Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Re-Imagined Detective

Sherlock Holmes (2009) *

Chaplin (1992) *****

Robert Downey, Jr. using his BlackBerry to keep up to date with 'The Man in Lincoln's Nose'... possibly.

I don’t know about you but when I go on holiday the holiday begins as soon as I get to the airport. The sitting around trying not to drink too much, trying aftershaves that I will never buy and getting frisked by a large woman in slacks are all part of the excitement. My joy really increases when I board the plane and we take off as I love flying almost as much as I enjoy long train journeys. However on my recent flight to Istanbul (great city, loved it, go if you get the chance) the soothing ointment of the flight had a rather nasty, irritating, mockney fly in it – Guy Ritchie’s ‘Sherlock Holmes’.

Released towards the end of last year, the film has been a roaring success. It will doubtless spawn several sequels which will make large amounts at the box office, Ritchie’s stock in America is at an all-time high and it won Robert Downey, Jr. a Golden Globe. However, the film follows what could be called the ‘Virgin’ model. You have a product that you think is pretty good but to ensure that it gets more publicity and a better chance of selling well you pay to use an established brand name. Companies do it with Richard Branson; Ritchie has done it with his film about a bare-knuckle-boxing, all action detective who happens to live in Victorian London. The character bares very little resemblance to Sherlock Holmes as most people know him (via the books, Basil Rathbone’s film series or the television incarnation with Jeremy Brett) but with the Holmes name attached the film was always likely to have a large following. There are Sherlock Holmes fans that went to see what was done to their beloved sleuth, action movie fans who liked the massive set pieces and blood-letting, and sadistic types who were hoping to see an old favourite roughed up by cinema’s Jamie Oliver. What the film amounts to is an eye-catching but ultimately silly, confusing and wearisome picture that, mercifully, will not linger too long in the memory. The plot is so difficult to follow and so full of Guy Ritchie’s usual, unfathomable London-accented tripe that it feels like you are watching and adaptation of Stephen Hawking’s ‘A Brief History of Time’ written by the Mitchell brothers. Defenders of the movie will say that it is a ‘re-imagining’ in the style of how Tim Burton handled ‘Planet of the Apes’ (2001) and ‘Alice in Wonderland’ (2009) but Burton at least kept the essence of the originals in his work. Ritchie plainly knew that after a few duds at the box-office he needed a sure fire hit to ensure he would be in a position to continue to make feature films as a career. He hit the jackpot by pretty much doing the opposite of what has been done in the Daniel Craig era James Bond movies – take a serious, somewhat dour series of stories and make them fast-paced and ridiculous. Call me an old fart but I like my Sherlock Victorian, not from the Queen Vic.

* * * * *

Speaking of Tim Burton, Robert Downey, Jr. appears to have aligned his career with Burton’s most famous and frequent collaborator Johnny Depp. Both were considered prodigal talents who were occasionally overshadowed by their dark good looks. They both tried to combat this in their early film careers by not picking obvious heartthrob roles and scored big successes critically doing so in the early 1990s (Depp as ‘Edward Scissorhands’ (1990), Downey, Jr. in ‘Chaplin’ (1992)). They both had a fairly timid period in the mid-90s, Downey, Jr. due to his drug use and Depp in an attempt to become a more mainstream proposition. Now the two of them seem to alternate between the big summer blockbusters and more interesting, smaller roles. Neither could be considered as more than a supporting player in ‘Tropic Thunder’ (2008) (Downey, Jr.) or ‘Alice in Wonderland’ (Depp) for instance. Neither of them has won the big one yet either but they seem to be there or thereabouts nominations season these days so they can’t be far off a classic ‘it’s their turn’ gesture from the Academy.

For what it’s worth, I think that Downey, Jr. should have won an Oscar for ‘Chaplin’ but he was beaten by just such a sentimental gesture towards Al Pacino. He was a fairly controversial choice to play Britain’s most famous export to Hollywood but his performance was exceptional. Anyone who has read Chaplin’s autobiography will know that he was a man keenly aware of his genius but who worked harder and more obsessively than would be considered normal. Downey, Jr. puts that on the screen. The work ethic, the flickers of self-doubt and the relentless desire for recognition are played perfectly alongside the arrogance, the superficial bragging and political naivety of the real man. For once it was a good thing to be called a proper Charlie.

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Don't forget that you can follow me on Twitter @lincolnsnose or twitter.com/lincolnsnose. I will be posting some of my mini-reviews on the blog soon but if you can't wait then from tomorrow use the search #TMILN to find them. Happy tweeting!

Hollywood’s Forgotten Stars: Part 4

In the last of a series of four pieces I will be looking back on five more of Hollywood’s forgotten stars. This week it’s the actors numbered 5 - 1 in my countdown. Can you guess who will come out on top? I hope you enjoy it. As always your comments are more than welcome.

Are these men Hollywood's five most criminally forgotten actors?

N.B.: This list is not intended to be definitive. It is merely intended to highlight the talent of ten largely forgotten actors who played a significant role in Hollywood history, be it as a great box-office star, an Oscar winner, a pioneer or an unfulfilled talent that shone all too briefly. In deciding on my order, I have rated the actors on both their contribution to cinema and how little I perceive them to be remembered by the general public. The biggest star will not necessarily come out on top.

5 – Glenn Ford
In ‘Superman Returns’ (2006), after our hero returns from Krypton to visit his mother, there is a photograph of dear, departed Pa on the mantel piece. The photo is of Glenn Ford, a nod to his role as Jonathon Kent in ‘Superman’ (1978) but also a tribute to a great star and underrated actor who has been largely forgotten. Ford’s career spanned over fifty years, beginning in the late 1930s in a few largely undistinguished roles. The Second World War delayed his crack at stardom but when he was paired with Rita Hayworth in ‘Gilda’ (1946), their on-screen chemistry ensured that Ford became a very hot property. He starred with Hayworth in a further four movies but none of them recaptured ‘Gilda’s spark. Ford specialised in three types of role; weary anti-hero (‘The Secret of Convict Lake’ (1951), ‘The Big Heat’ (1953), ‘The Blackboard Jungle’ (1955)), heroic yet understated cowboy or soldier (‘The Fastest Gun Alive’ (1956), ‘3:10 to Yuma’ (1957), ‘Torpedo Run’ (1958)) and ordinary ‘Joe’ in awkward situation (‘Teahouse of the August Moon’ (1956), ‘Ransom’ (1956), ‘The Gazebo’ (1959)). Usually, though, the film makers would use Ford’s inherent likeability and an extreme situation to get the audience on-side. This is what made Ford a huge star throughout the 1950s and early 60s. Never conventionally good-looking, he was able to move into character parts smoothly but it may be that ‘ordinary guy’ charm that has allowed Ford to be overlooked whilst contemporaries like Humphrey Bogart and James Stewart remain hugely recognisable.
Watch Glenn Ford in: There are a lot to choose from but ‘The Blackboard Jungle’ just has the edge performance-wise over ‘The Big Heat’. It’s the now-clichéd story of a seemingly mild-mannered teacher taking a job in a rough inner-city school but this is the original and the best.

4 – Van Johnson
Having red hair has often been a problem for men in the pursuit of movie superstardom. Those who have made it were not normally seen as ginger on screen. Stan Laurel only appeared in colour once in a government information film; with a few exceptions, Spencer Tracy had gone white by the time he made the majority of his colour movies; Danny Kaye and Robert Redford both went blond; and, believe it or not, Harpo Marx’s hair was actually a wig! Van Johnson was the exception. He was unashamedly red and freckly in an era when that look was shunned for men on screen unless you were either 8 years old or you were the hero’s comedy side kick who dies in scene three. Johnson was a dancer on Broadway when MGM came calling. However it wasn’t his twinkle toes they wanted. It was the boy-next-door looks that MGM desired as they were casting plenty of war pictures and wanted all-American guys to play the parts of servicemen. After a couple of supporting parts Johnson got his big break with the second lead in ‘A Guy Named Joe’ (1943) alongside Tracy. More WWII dramas followed but Johnson’s biggest success of this era was ‘The Thrill of Romance’ (1945), a musical which marked the first of four pairings with Esther Williams. The movies success meant that Johnson topped the box-office chart for 1945. From supporting player to Hollywood’s most bankable star in less than three years, Johnson is an example of how the studio system worked. Stage stars, models or extras were spotted and then carefully groomed for stardom in a few well chosen support parts before being given the big launch in films with the studio’s big names. Johnson’s success continued through the 40s with the same mixture of war and musical pictures – 1949 being a particularly good year for both with ‘Battleground’ following ‘In the Good Old Summertime’. Never nominated for an Academy Award despite working in an era where stardom virtually guaranteed recognition, Johnson’s finest performance came in 1954 in the ensemble piece ‘The Caine Mutiny’. More challenging work followed such as his role as the blind man embroiled in a kidnap plot in ’23 Paces to Baker Street’ (1956). His career stalled in the 60s as his marriage break-up descended into a bitter divorce and never picked up again after just one big screen appearance between 1960 and 1967 but Johnson continued to work until the late 1980s. As an example of what the studio system could do and as a beacon for red headed actors everywhere Van Johnson deserves far more recognition then he is afforded.
Watch Van Johnson in: ‘The Caine Mutiny’ may be primarily remembered for Humphrey Bogart’s last great role but Johnson is a stand out in a powerful cast.

3 – Joseph Cotton
When your most prominent movie roles were opposite Orson Welles it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that very little of the limelight was afforded to you. Joseph Cotton would have been unlikely to complain as without roles in ‘Citizen Kane’ (1941) and ‘The Magnificent Ambersons’ (1942) he would never have been a Hollywood name. However, purely in terms of acting ability Cotton was easily the equal of Welles as proved by a string of excellent dramatic performances throughout the 1940s. Starting with his appearance as Jedidiah Leland, Kane’s right hand man, Cotton then made ‘The Magnificent Ambersons’ and the wartime thriller ‘Journey into Fear’ (1943) with Welles. All three are excellent movies in their own right with ‘Journey into Fear’ surely ranking as one of the great forgotten thrillers. He was stunning as Uncle Charlie in Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Shadow of a Doubt’ (1943) and then supported Charles Boyer and Ingrid Bergman in the remake of ‘Gaslight’ (1944). This was followed by a sympathetic role in another underrated movie ‘Love Letters’ (1945) as a soldier desperate to find some answers after the murder of his friend. Before the decade was out, Cotton had added a classic western (‘Duel in the Sun’ (1946)) and a classic fantasy (‘Portrait of Jeannie’ (1948)) to his CV and he then returned to thrillers with the seminal ‘The Third Man’ (1949). Cotton was the lead but, again, he was overshadowed by Welles as Harry Lime who doesn’t even appear until the movie is half gone. As a decade of work, Cotton’s output was consistently excellent, yet his great performances have fallen foul to either being forgotten or to the presence of a co-star who went on to bigger things. Is that a reflection on Cotton and indicates that maybe he wasn’t that good? Watch the films and see for yourself.
Watch Joseph Cotton in: A straight choice here between ‘Shadow of a Doubt’ and ‘The Third Man’ with Cotton’s performance in the Hitchcock thriller winning out. He is just so damn menacing. You will never invite your relatives to stay again.

2 – Paul Muni
During the 1940s, the cracks in Hollywood’s studio system were starting to show more than ever. One man’s contract dispute was another man’s big break. In 1941 Paul Muni was one of Warner Brothers’ biggest names with four Academy Award nominations (and one win) under his belt. He had made his name with highly popular and critically acclaimed crime dramas before undertaking a series of historical biopics that usually required him to hide his distinctive features beneath make-up and false beards. Given his status and popularity, the studio assigned him to the gangster picture ‘High Sierra’ (1941). Muni wasn’t having it though and, after effectively being put on suspension, the role went to up-and-coming Humphrey Bogart. Muni made fewer and fewer films from that point on and, from being fairly prolific in the 1930s, ended his life with just twenty-five screen credits to his name. A successful stage career brought him to Hollywood’s attention. In the early days of sound, actors with stage experience were sought after as they were used to speaking lines and being understood. His first movie ‘The Valiant’ (1929) was a death-row drama that set the tone for much of Muni’s early output. It was bleak, realistic and, for it’s time, dealt brutally with its themes. His next two movies, after a return to the stage, were ‘Scarface’ and ‘I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang’ (both 1932). More than any James Cagney picture of the period, these were the best examples of Warners’ gangster/crime output. ‘…Chain Gang’ in particular is a terrific piece of movie-making with Muni’s performance at its core. After another couple of dramas in a similar vein, Muni was cast in the title role in ‘The Story of Louis Pasteur’ (1936). This was quite a departure from Muni’s previous films but when he was awarded the Oscar for his performance it ensured that similar roles came his way, most notably in ‘The Life of Emile Zola’ (1937). After leaving Warners, Muni’s roles became far less frequent but that meant that he only picked quality such as ‘Angel on My Shoulder’ (1946) and his last role in ‘The Last Angry Man’ (1959).
Watch Paul Muni in: To convince you that Paul Muni didn’t need heavy accents, false beards or hours of make-up to electrify the screen watch ‘I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang’. Mercifully, they chose to remake ‘Scarface’ and not try to take this on as you cannot improve on perfection.

1 – Fredric March
Due to the era that most of the twenty stars I have written about in these posts worked in, I have again and again referred to Hollywood’s ‘studio system’. Put simply, Hollywood movies in the early sound era through to the 1950s were predominantly made by a handful of powerful studios (MGM, Paramount, Warner Bros., Columbia, Universal etc.) that signed up actors, directors, writers and whoever else they needed on long, virtually unbreakable contracts with a regular weekly wage. The omnipotent heads of the studio would then assign the talent on the books to whatever picture they saw fit. In return, the stars got the most efficient publicity machines ever created behind them to enhance and, when misdemeanour required, protect their image. For most actors the system worked well, but for a number it was a stifling environment that meant typecasting. Rebellion was biting the hand that fed you and could mean professional suicide if you were anything less than a huge star. My number one male star, Fredric March, was even rarer. He was almost unique in that he was a hugely successful actor, with the critics as well as the public, despite never signing a long-term studio contract. The sheer force of his star quality and the consistent excellence of his performances was all the publicity March needed to have the studio executives clamoring for this relative rebel to star in their prestige productions.

March, like Paul Muni, came to Hollywood in 1929 when established stage actors were in great demand as silent movies took their bow and exited. He had some minor success with his first few films but came to prominence playing Tony Cavendish in ‘The Royal Family of Broadway’ (1930), a play based on the legendary Barrymore family (grandparents and great-grandparents of Drew). The performance garnered an Oscar nomination for March and he went one better the following year with the definitive screen portrayal of ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ (1931). Urbane as Jekyll, terrifying as Hyde, March was superb in the dual role and this helped him, as well as his refusal to sign up to a single studio, to avoid being pigeon holed. March was excellent in the melodrama ‘Smilin’ Through’ (1932) and the war movie ‘The Eagle and the Hawk’ (1933) but also showed he could handle comedy with ‘Design for Living’ (1933). His next truly great performance was as Death in ‘Death Takes a Holiday’ (1934), a movie inadvisably remade over sixty years later as ‘Meet Joe Black’ (1998) (Brad Pitt taking on a role played my Fredric March is the cinematic equivalent of The Cheeky Girls covering Ella Fitzgerald). Before the 1930s were out, March had starred in a series of movies based on great novels such as ‘Les Miserables’ and ‘Anna Karenina’ (both 1935) as well as pulling out a truly heart-breaking performance as Norman Maine in the original ‘A Star is Born’ (1937). The war years brought still more variety in March’s choice of movies but ‘The Best Years of Our Lives’ (1946) brought March his best role of the decade and a second Academy Award. The film’s plot concerns three men trying to piece their lives back together after returning to America after WW2 and March is the cast’s stand-out performer. He concentrated more on stage work in the ensuing years but when he did appear on the big screen he had lost none of his power. ‘Death of a Salesman’ (1951), ‘Executive Suite’ (1954) and ‘The Desperate Hours’ (1955) all contain brilliant, layered performances but if there was one last film performance for the ages left in Fredric March he delivered it in 1960’s ‘Inherit the Wind’. Based on the real-life 'Scopes Monkey Trial' of 1925, March plays a famous and fiercely Christian prosecuting lawyer in the trial of a school teacher who slipped Darwin’s theory of natural selection and evolution into the syllabus. His scenes with defence attorney Spencer Tracy are a tribute to two titanic talents of Hollywood’s golden age. March continued working until his death in 1975 but like so many whose careers were predominantly in black and white movies he seems destined to remain a star on in the minds of a the minority. For March more than anyone that is a tragedy.
Watch Fredric March in: More than any of the nineteen other actors I have written about, this is an impossible choice so I am going to cheat and go for ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ for early March, ‘The Best Years of Our Lives’ for the middle of his career and ‘Inherit the Wind’ for March the elder.

Let it now! Let it snow! Let it snow!: Januay Reviews Part One

It has been far too long since I last added to this blog. In fact I can say with complete pedantic accuracy that it was last decade. It is January 2010, the beginning of a year where I will regain the complete appreciation of movies I had as the fresh faced 16 year-old who stared out from the front of the Chester Chronicle to mark my appearance on the Radio 4 movie quiz ‘Screen Test’ (I will never watch ‘An American Werewolf in Paris’ because of it). The adverse weather helped me to start the year in fine form to achieve this as the time I spent stuck in my flat was largely spent in front of the television with the DVD player or Sky+ box spewing cinematic offerings of varying quality into my minds IMDb. So in order to play catch up since my Poirot-themed post in October I will indulge myself with a small review of the movies I watched in the first week of January.

We start with something that should have been put away in the attic with the tinsel and that jumper with the massive reindeer face on it. Four Christmases (2008, **) is a movie that you will sit through waiting for the good bits that seem to be permanently around the corner but they never arrive. It stars Vince Vaughan, a man whose charge sheet of cinematic crimes grows year-on-year, and Reese Witherspoon as a clinically practical couple whose Christmas plans are thrown into disarray and they are forced to spend the day trawling around their family’s houses being humiliated, abused and talking over one another in a very irritating manner. About an hour in I suddenly remembered that Witherspoon won an Oscar just a few years back and the names of Halle Berry, Maximillian Schell and Helen Hunt rattled ominously around my brain. That said pre-Oscar Reese Witherspoon made worse films such as Sweet Home Alabama (2002, *) which I will dwell on only long enough to say that it is the only romantic comedy I have ever seen where you hope the two men of the love triangle end up together having been turned off women for life by the nasty, selfish ‘heroine’.

A better romantic comedy of recent times is The Wedding Singer (1998, ***) which amazed me as being quite enjoyable despite the twin turn offs of over-blown nostalgia for the 1980s and the presence of Adam Sandler, a man who normally sends me into a deep depression that only Stan & Ollie can drag me out of. It is the usual tale of unavailable boy meets unavailable girl and their path to mutual availability runs anything but smoothly. To be fair to Adam Sandler his performance actually carries the film though the when you are battling for acting honours against the wooden Drew Barrymore that isn’t hard. Her lack of ability was much in evidence in Grey Gardens (2009, ***), an over long but eerily fascinating dramatisation of the lives of two women related to the Bouviers whose mental and physical decline shocked America when it was captured in the 1970s by documentary film makers. Barrymore wrestles with her New York socialite accent and loses but Jessica Lange is very good and the film gives one the urge to track down the 1975 documentary and see the real ‘Big Edie’ and ‘Little Edie’.

We jump now from one rich, eccentric American family to another and George Cukor’s 1938 comedy Holiday (1938, ****). It’s a bit of a slow burner this one. I tried to watch it once and switched it off after twenty minutes. However I am now very pleased I gave it a second chance as it proved to be a charming, if very predictable, movie. Cary Grant is all set to marry the daughter of a rich businessman but his free-thinking ideals are more in line with his fiancées sister played by Katharine Hepburn. Lew Ayres gives good support as Hepburn’s permanently tipsy brother and with such talent involved it is difficult not to like ‘Holiday’.

Finally in this first part of my January reviews we come to Remains of the Day (1993, *****). The story concerns a house keeper who comes to work at a country manor before the Second World War and her relationship, one of frustrated love, with the house’s butler. There is a lot to admire about this film, particularly the performances. Hugh Grant has probably never been better even though his role is pretty small. James Fox is also very good as the lord of the manor whose political manoeuvrings eventually destroy his reputation whilst Emma Thompson’s turn as the house keeper who cannot penetrate the reserved Mr. Stevens is a fantastically judged performance. Even Thompson, though, pales in comparison to a stunning display of acting by Anthony Hopkins as Mr. Stevens. Hopkins is the very essence of repressed propriety, a man whose professional pride will not allow an iota or human emotion and feeling to escape to the surface whether he is being teased, insulted or complimented. Even when his father dies he carries on with his duties with barely a flicker of evidence that this event has occurred. His scenes with Emma Thompson are simply brilliant as their relationship turns from one of friction to mutual admiration for each other’s work ethic to something deeper that is never given a hope of developing by Stevens’ incredible reserve. Coming hot on the heels of ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ and ‘Howard’s End’ this is Hopkins at the peak of his cinematic career and, in movie packed with excellent acting, his performance stands out as not only the pick of the bunch but, I feel, as one of the greatest performances by an actor in cinema history.

Has Hercule Poirot been murdered by the movies?

I think I have just watched one of the worst movies I have ever seen.

To make that statement more incredible ‘The Alphabet Murders’ (1965, *) is based on one of the best loved of Agatha Christie’s mystery novels featuring Hercule Poirot and, as such, must be one of the all-time great examples of how Hollywood can turn good source material into utter horse-shit. The plot, as you may be aware, concerns a series of killings of people whose initials follow the alphabet (AA, BB, CC etc.). Poirot attempts to solve the mystery with help from Captain Hastings, here converted to a Secret Service agent played by Robert Morely, before the killer has worked their way through the whole alphabet. There are various slow-witted policemen and suspects involved along the way as one would expect and the whole thing is all wrapped up as neatly as is possible. You may have seen the ITV version from the long running series starring David Suchet but let me assure you that any similarity between that excellent series and this movie is purely coincidental.

Tony Randall: Hercule D'oh-irot?

I hardly know where to begin as I try to describe exactly what makes ‘The Alphabet Murders’ so poor but if I want you to carry on reading I must... so here it goes. Let’s start with the version of Poirot we are presented with in the film. In a quite incredible bit of casting the American light comedy actor Tony Randall was hired to take the lead. Randall had just appeared in ‘7 Faces of Dr. Lao’ (1964) as the ancient Chinese circus owner of the title. Randall’s transformation thanks to Oscar-winning make-up must have convinced studio heads at MGM that he was the perfect choice for a role that required a wig, a fake nose and a moustache. The result, as illustrated, is that Randall’s Poirot ends up looking like James Finalyson, the temperamental Scot who featured in many a Laurel & Hardy movie (and who used the expression of exasperation ‘d’oh!’ long before Homer Simpson). I suppose the make-up is not Randall’s fault, nor is the decision to relocate the story from the 1930s to 1960s London where, in a particularly awful scene, Poirot shows off his ten-pin bowling skills! What we can lay at Tony Randall’s door is his accent which ranges from the policeman from ‘’Allo ‘Allo’ to a bad impersonation of David Niven. Agatha Christie’s Poirot is totally unrecognisable in the character we see here. He is rude, short-tempered and thoroughly unpleasant. He is also a complete idiot who solves the case by accident as opposed to engaging his “little grey cells”. In fact the script by David Pursall and Jack Seddon attempts to make us laugh at and ridicule him. There is supposed to be something fusty, inflated and pompous about Poirot but he not a figure of fun and is certainly not a buffoon. It is abundantly clear that ‘The Alphabet Murders’ was conceived in the wake of Peter Sellers’ enormously successful turn as Inspector Clouseau in ‘The Pink Panther’ (1963) and its sequel ‘A Shot in the Dark (1964). Sequences such as the aforementioned bowling alley scene, Poirot’s comic visit to a sauna and his lack of manners in polite society are very similar to features of Sellers creation. MGM’s British wing had the popular series of Miss Marple movies starring Margaret Rutherford as an example of how a Christie detective could be tweaked and moulded to fit their will but it just doesn’t work here as the leap from Christie’s vision to Clouseau II is much too large.

The other actors do not fair much better. Anita Ekberg is present as the prime suspect but she doesn’t have a great deal to do which is probably a blessing as I don’t think she is much of an actress. As for poor Robert Morely he is employed to play a complete nincompoop whose presence in the movie seems only to serve the purpose of allowing the scriptwriters to fill their screen play with lots of jokes about his weight. Which brings us back to the films number one problem (even greater than Randall) – the script. It just isn’t funny. In fact it is painful. I wondered to myself as I watched ‘The Alphabet Murders’ whether I would have liked it better if the character’s were not previously familiar to me but in truth the humour is so weak that I doubt it.

If you are a huge fan of all things Poirot, you have a keen interest in cinematic Christie adaptations or if you are a masochist then you may want to catch ‘The Alphabet Murders’ next time it appears on television. Everyone else should switch on ITV3 (the ‘Poirot channel’ as a good friend of mine calls it) and see how it’s done properly.

***

A decade later and Poirot returned to our movie screens in ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ (1974, *****) which despite atrocious editing and continuity is a highly entertaining version of another of Poirot’s greatest cases. Poirot is portrayed by the marvellously over-the-top Albert Finney who revels in his slicked down hair, waxed moustache and protruding belly without ever stepping over the line into the ridiculous. He is keenly aware of the old-world eccentricities of the role and the humour present in Agatha Christie’s novels but neither Finney nor the script allows any clowning to take place. Christie herself said he was a good match for her idea of Poirot and there can be no higher recommendation than that.

Finney is supported by a list of famous faces. The ‘Golden Age’ of Hollywood is represented by Lauren Bacall and Ingrid Bergman, Sean Connery, Michael York and Jacqueline Bisset were all big stars at the time, and the rest of the cast is made up of supporting players of the calibre of Martin Balsam, Anthony Perkins, John Gielgud, Richard Widmark and Wendy Hiller. I won’t say every performance is a knockout but I will pick out Gielgud (as the murder victim’s sardonic valet), Jean-Pierre Cassel (as the conductor with a tragic past) and Bacall (as a brash, ear-bashing widow) for special praise. The period look of the film is very good and the score is excellent. All in all it is highly recommended.

***

Finney was nominated of an Oscar for his portrayal of Hercule Poirot but the long hours of make-up required for the role dissuaded him from returning when ‘Death on the Nile’ (1978, ***) was planned. We got Peter Ustinov instead and he was very good. Like Finney he knew how far to push the envelope with humour without nullifying the need for te audience to take Poirot seriously when it came to summing up time. The problem Ustinov faced in ‘Death on the Nile’, ‘Evil Under the Sun’ (1982, ***) and the other four Poirot movies he made was that his supporting players were not as strong as the one Finney enjoyed. The producers were keen to replicate the success of ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ and filled both movies with familiar faces (‘Nile’ had Bette Davis, Angela Lansbury, David Niven, George Kennedy and Maggie Smith whilst ‘Sun’ had James Mason, Diana Rigg, Roddy McDowall and, again, Maggie Smith) but the crop of young actors employed in both movies were pretty but dull and it takes away from the films as wholes. That said both movies are entertaining and Ustinov makes a good Poirot. If you’re bored and they are on the box then why not check them out.

***

A final note to say that ‘Evil under the Sun’ has a soundtrack to die for. It is made up of Cole Porter songs which makes a bit of bad acting well worth sitting through.

My Week: A bear and a mouse in paradise – Children can be so cruel - Tony Curtis' window of excellence

I always worry when I watch one of my favourite films with someone who has never seen it before. Usually I will have built it up before hand but that horrible moment when they say 'yeah I can see why YOU like it but...' always feels like it is just around the corner. I have had this happen with 'It's a Wonderful Life', 'West Side Story', The Bridge on the River Kwai' and ‘Touch of Evil’. It is also a depressingly common reaction to Charlie Chaplin, Laurel & Hardy, anything silent and, even, anything black & white. So it was with some trepidation that I settled down with my girlfriend last week to watch ‘Cinema Paradiso’ (1989,*****). Thankfully I need not have worried as Giuseppe Tornatore’s celebration of all things cinematic charmed her as it has charmed millions who have watched it. The story is told in flashback, in the memory of a successful Italian film director named Salvatore (or Toto) who grew up in a tiny village. The centre of village life is the cinema where gruff but inherently decent Alfredo works as the projectionist. Toto loves the cinema and begins an unlikely friendship with Alfredo that lasts through his childhood into his teens and early twenties when he leaves the village with strict instructions from Alfredo not to look back but to follow his dreams.

This film has so much going for it. The Italian countryside provides stunning scenery, the score by the legendary Ennio Morricone must be one of the best ever written and the film shows of a host of character actors bringing the ‘Cinema Paradiso’ to life. Technically the film is superb and even the extra running time and story of the longer director’s cut doesn’t lessen the movie’s impact.

There are three things, however, that raise ‘Cinema Paradiso’ to the pantheon of the greats. Firstly is the presence of a child actor so far removed from your typical Hollywood brat as it is possible to get. Anyone who has ever watched ‘Home Alone’ and thought Macaulay Culkin was cute, lovable and talented should watch this movie (and seek psychiatric help) to witness the performance of Salvatore Cascio. He is funny, he’s mischievous and there isn’t a single moment when you stop believing he is a kid growing up in a one-horse town at the end of the Second World War. The second piece of magic is what has become known as the ‘kissing sequence’. I won’t ruin it for those of you who haven’t seen the film but suffice to say it is a wonderful and moving moment. The third and most important reason I love this film is Philippe Noiret. His portrayal of Alfredo is marvellous as the character moves from the grumpy projectionist putting up with young Toto’s relentless attention to the wise and placid figure that begs Salvatore to make something of his life and forget the sleepy town that would destroy his spirit if he stayed. It is a stunning piece of acting.

If you have never seen ‘Cinema Paradiso’ I beg you to watch it at the earliest opportunity, even if you have a natural aversion to subtitles. You will be rewarded with an experience that few films can ever hope to match and one of the finest male screen performances of the post-‘Star Wars’ era.

***

The performances of children are foremost in the two other films on my movie radar this week. ‘The Innocents’ (1961, ***) is a British horror movie that now seems rather tame but has at its core a terrific performance by the always-reliable Deborah Kerr as the governess assigned to take care of two children whose last carer killed herself after the failure of a torrid love affair. The theme of possession has been done more graphically countless times since this movie was released but it has rarely been done better. Kerr’s optimism and desire to help the her charges in the face or repeated warnings not to delve too deeply into the story spun by the children is gradually built up to the point of mania until the dreadful truth is revealed in an unsettling but slightly rushed climax.

‘The Innocents’ would probably have been a more effective movie if certain aspects of the plot had not been required to be skimmed over by out-dated production codes in place at the time. The same is undoubtedly true of ‘The Children’s Hour’ (1961, ****) where a rumour surrounding the precise nature of the relationship between two female school teachers (Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine) threatens to ruin the lives of all concerned including Hepburn’s doctor fiancée, played by James Garner. Karen Balkin plays Mary, the vile bully whose failure to overturn punishments with fake fainting fits and ridiculous tantrums pushes her to twist an overheard conversation so that her Grandmother will withdraw her from school. The acting here is a treat but that id to be expected with two of Hollywood’s most talented stars at the centre of the picture. The limits on what could be discussed are skilfully negotiated by Lillian Hellman’s adaptation of her own play though a bit of freedom may have allowed a different, less bleak ending. Unfortunately, the message that the production code insists on here, as in so many movies that tried to tackle the subject of homosexuality around this time, is that whilst it’s fine to be sympathetic towards gay characters in movie, their actions are essentially wrong. It must have been like having your movie overseen by Jan Moir (only she wouldn’t have bothered with the sympathy as it is not a word she knows the meaning of).

Note: Anyone interested in the portrayal of homosexuals throughout Hollywood history should seek out ‘The Celluloid Closet’ (1992, *****), an excellent and humorous documentary that traces the depiction of gay and lesbian characters from the silent era onwards. You will never watch ‘Calamity Jane’ in the same way again!

***

Reading Tony Curtis’ new autobiography ‘American Prince’ last week made me realise that his output was pretty poor considering he was in movies from the late 1940s through to the ‘80s. Curtis admits his career took a nosedive towards the end of the ‘60s to the point where if he didn’t work outside the United States he didn’t work. There are several explanations put forward for this from anti-Semitism to a reaction against his perceived poor treatment of Janet Leigh during their marriage but the most likely, I feel, is that when Tony Curtis needed another strong presence on the screen to help his star to shine brightly. Anything he made before 1957 has pretty much been forgotten with the exception of ‘Winchester ‘73’ (1950) in which he had a very small role and the entertaining but overlong ‘Trapeze’ (1956, ***). Likewise, his output post-1960 was almost uniformly poor – ‘The Boston Strangler’ (1968, *****) providing a rare gem. However, Curtis is one of those stars who has managed to cement a place in the list of Hollywood greats by virtue of a handful of excellent movies made in a short space of time. Between 1957 and 1960, Curtis starred in ‘The Sweet Smell of Success’, ‘The Defiant Ones’, ‘The Vikings’, ‘Some Like it Hot’ and ‘Spartacus’ which, by anyone standards, are five top-drawer movies. Perhaps we can learn from this that Tony Curtis was at his best when playing opposite another strong male lead (Burt Lancaster in ‘Sweet Smell...’, Sidney Poitier in ‘Defiant Ones’, Kirk Douglas in ‘Vikings’, Jack Lemmon in ‘Some Like it Hot’ and Douglas again, along with Laurence Olivier in ‘Spartacus) and when, after the success of these roles, he was expected to carry a film all by himself, his limitations as an actor were exposed and his star power is what carried him through to be remembered with such affection.

I love Tony Curtis. I think he is a great star and when he made a good movie, they were great and he was great in them, but rather like his good friend Frank Sinatra he couldn’t quite get along without someone of equal stature to play off. He needed someone to challenge him for his best to brought out and we can be thankful that for four short years he was regularly challenged as he always rose to the occasion.

Paul Newman vs. Steve McQueen

From the time I was born right up to the present day I have always been told that I am very similar to my sister. We have similar personalities, a similar sense of humour and we tend to like the same films, directors and actors. However when I was in my teens we realised that there was a pair of Hollywood rivals whom we couldn’t agree upon. My sister was Paul Newman’s biggest fan whilst I loved Steve McQueen. Each of us liked both actors but when it came to who was the bigger star or the better actor we stuck firmly in our chosen camp. When Paul Newman sadly passed away last week it made me think again of those conversations we shared and drove me to reconsider if I had been right all along.

Any discussion on the relative merits of McQueen and Newman will hang on the period between the two films that they appeared in together. The eighteen years between ‘Somebody Up There Likes Me’ and ‘The Towering Inferno’ cover the peak years of Newman’s career and pretty much the whole of McQueen’s. As a picture of how their standing in Hollywood changed, the movies couldn’t be more different.

‘Somebody Up There Likes Me’ (1956) was significant for both men. After the death of James Dean in 1955 the roles he would have played initially went to Newman and Marlon Brando. Newman had made one or two films by this stage but this was the film that launched him as a star. Among the bit part players was a Steve McQueen making his film debut before embarking on the successful television series ‘Wanted: Dead or Alive’. Given that two years later McQueen was till a TV star and was making ‘The Blob’ whilst Newman was picking up an Oscar nomination it was clear that the younger man had some serious catching up to do. He finally made his breakthrough in ‘The Magnificent Seven’ (1960) but by that time Newman had a string of hits and was about to make the movie that many consider to be the best of his career. For my money ‘The Hustler’ (1961) is up there with ‘E.T.’ as one of the most over-rated movies ever made but I cannot deny that the one reason I sat through it was because of Paul Newman’s performance.

McQueen did little to follow-up on ‘The Magnificent Seven’s success, making a couple of average war movies and one of his ill-fated ventures into the world of comedy. Newman said that once he saw himself in ‘The Secret War of Harry Frigg’ (1968) he knew he was finished with trying his hand at comedy but McQueen took longer to learn the lesson. ‘The Honeymooners’ (1961), ‘Soldier in the Rain’ (1963) and ‘The Reivers’ (1969) are three very painful watching experiences. After finally making another good film, ‘The Great Escape’ (1963), McQueen mostly stuck to what he did best. His films contained a number of tough, distant, almost unlovable characters that suited McQueen who in reality seemed fairly tough, distant and unlovable. One role in particular drew parallels with Newman. In 1965 McQueen played ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ which tried to do for poker what ‘The Hustler’ had done for pool. The reaction has generally been unfavourable to ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ when the movies are compared but I think it is the superior film. It is one of Steve McQueen’s best performances and he is helped enormously by a terrific supporting cast (much better than ‘The Hustler’), tight direction and the toning down of the obligatory romantic sub-plot. (The film would probably be one of my all time favourites if Spencer Tracy had been well enough to accept the part of Lancey Howard. In the end another great actor, Edward G. Robinson, took the role but despite the esteem I hold him in I can’t help wondering what the movie would have been like with Tracy and McQueen facing off.)

McQueen was by this point becoming obsessed with the idea of becoming a bigger star than Paul Newman. They played similar parts in similar movies and, whilst he was a big box-office draw, McQueen was desperate to be seen as Newman’s superior in terms of star quality and acting ability. Newman had built on his personal success in ‘The Hustler’ by taking on a number of memorable or, at least, interesting roles. Chance Wayne in ‘Sweet Bird of Youth’ (1962), ‘Hud’ (1963) and ‘Cool Hand Luke’ (1967) are the former whilst Ram Bowen in ‘Paris Blues’ (1961), Andrew Craig in the criminally under-rated ‘The Prize’ (1963) and Juan Carrasco in ‘The Outrage’ (1964) fall into the latter category. ‘The Prize’ is an example of the kind of film Newman made that McQueen could never have been successful in. What McQueen lacked was a sort of ‘lightness’ that allowed Newman not to take himself too seriously. McQueen also showed poor judgement in his choice of roles. Newman rarely made truly awful during the 1960’s but McQueen never seemed able to make more that two or three good films in succession. This is best illustrated by considering that in 1968 he made ‘The Thomas Crown Affair’ and ‘Bullitt’ which, for the first time, put him on top of the box-office money list. His next film was ‘The Reivers’. Newman saw out the 1960’s with ‘Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’ (1969) a film that should have starred McQueen as well but his other obsession – having top billing – prevented the pairing. The film is better than any western McQueen made before or subsequently. McQueen had a knack of turning down good parts in order to make dud films. ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ (1961), ‘Two for the Road’ (1967), Jaws (1975) and ‘Apocalypse Now’ (1979) are four notable examples.

The 1970’s didn’t start auspiciously for either actor. McQueen’s long planned ‘Le Mans’ (1971) was not only a woefully boring film but was also the first box-office flop of his career. Newman appeared to have gone off the boil as well with films like ‘WUSA’ (1970) and ‘Pocket Money’ (1972), which were solid but unmemorable efforts. Then something significant happened. Steve McQueen met Sam Peckinpah and made two films that went someway to realising his twin ambitions. ‘The Getaway’ (1972) made him the highest paid actor in the world and ‘Junior Bonner’ (1972) shows McQueen acting ability like no other film he made. It is McQueen’s only real character driven piece of work and gives a glimpse of what might have been had he lived long enough to be offered the sort of roles Newman played from the 1980’s onwards. Of course Newman had been a character actor from the very beginning but he had the looks and charisma to make him a star as well. His transition from handsome movie star to distinguished supporting actor was a natural one. It is doubtful whether McQueen’s ego would have ever allowed him to make the same move but ‘Junior Bonner’ and the later ‘Tom Horn’ (1980) gave an indication that it would have been possible in purely acting terms.

If it weren’t so against what we know of Paul Newman’s personality it could be mischievously suggested that the decision to make ‘The Sting’ (1973) was solely influenced by his being knocked of his perch as Hollywood’s most expensive and bankable actor. Teaming up again with Robert Redford and director George Roy Hill after the phenomenal success of ‘Butch Cassidy…’ was as close to ensuring success as is possible. The movie didn’t disappoint. Not only was the film the number one box-office success of 1973 (bettering McQueen’s ‘Papillon') it is very possibly the best and most enjoyable movie made by either man. Robert Redford’s star was at it’s brightest at the time but he still played second fiddle to Newman’s Henry Gondorff. This was the perfect Paul Newman role – belligerent, ruthless, streetwise but likable - the anti-hero with a heart as well as a brain.

On the back of both men’s sustained success they were finally paired opposite one another in ‘The Towering Inferno’ (1974). The stories of McQueen counting lines in the script and going ballistic when he found out Newman had more, the staggered billing and his agonising over which of the main characters was cast in the best light by the film go to the very route of how seriously Steve McQueen felt about ‘beating’ Newman now that they were going head-to-head on screen. He was determined that it should be as equals so that any perceived victory would be incontestable. Newman probably didn’t care and that is probably why McQueen walks away with the film. Even in their few shared scenes it is McQueen who hold the attention. Many reasons have been given for this but I feel that McQueen was always the better action hero and this is what the film called for. McQueen may have won the battle but being declared the best actor in a disaster movie is a rather hollow victory. Nevertheless ‘The Towering Inferno’ was far and away the biggest moneymaker of 1974 and having, by general consensus, dominated the movie McQueen could by rights declare himself to be the biggest star in the world. The fact he had achieved this status by acting opposite Newman and giving a better performance should have made it all the sweeter. McQueen could, in terms of the movies, do anything he wanted and that is what he did. Remarkably, after finally getting where he wanted to be, he snubbed Hollywood. He went bike racing, dune buggy racing and car racing and didn’t make another film for three years. He only made three more films before he died in 1980. Newman, after some disastrous failures in the late 70’s, regained his standing after McQueen’s death with a number of excellent performances throughout the 1980’s and one or two choice roles in the ‘90’s and beyond.

Traditionally it has always been accepted that Paul Newman was the better actor and that he made better movies then Steve McQueen but it was whilst reading Newman’s obituary last week that I realised just how many misguided, imperfect and downright awful movies he had made. The number of genuine classics that McQueen made can be counted on one hand but you wouldn’t need to take your socks off to count the number of Newman films that have sit in that category. What we must realise is that for both actors on so many occasions it is their performances we remember, not the films that contained them. The characters created by Newman as the superior actor rise above some of the films he found himself acting in whilst McQueen is the more iconic. It is the Cooler King and Frank Bullitt who adorn bedroom walls to this day and given that Hollywood has a tradition of remembering its icons rather better then it remembers some of it’s finest acting talent McQueen may very well outlast Newman and their contemporaries in the same way that Clark Gable and Marilyn Monroe are remembered better than William Powell and Lee Remick. If we accept that Newman was the enduring actor and McQueen the enduring star then each can claim to be remembered how they wanted.

Paul Newman: Must See
Cool Hand Luke (1967)
The Sting (1973)
The Verdict (1982)

Steve McQueen: Must See
The Great Escape (1963)
The Cincinnati Kid (1965)
The Getaway (1972)

Review: The Strangers (2008) * *

…and so to my first review. First of all I should point out that there is no particular reason as to the order I review films in. I might have just watched it, just read about it, just been reminded of it or I might, as will be the case for the majority of the time, just feel like it. Also if you are expecting to read reviews only of the latest cooler than cool 'indie' flick or to hear what I think of the whole of the French ‘New Wave’ then you may also be disappointed. Those types of movie will doubtless crop up now and again but you as likely to find yourself reading about Doris Day or ‘The Poseidon Adventure’ as you are Jim Jarmusch or ‘The Red Balloon’.

As far as movie genres go, horror has never been a particular favourite of mine so it was with a certain degree of trepidation that I watched ‘The Strangers’ last night. The story, as you may know, involves a young couple (Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman) that leave a friends wedding and travel to spend the night at Speedman’s remote summer home. Whilst there, they are harassed, tormented and assaulted by three masked strangers (Kip Weeks, Gemma Ward and Laura Margolis). That is the sum total of the plot and therein lies the films biggest problem. Nothing really happens. The couple make no real concerted effort to get away from the house and they don’t even come into that much contact with the masked trio. The film consists of a string of scenes involving Tyler or Speedman walking silently around the house to be confronted by one of the three masked figures very suddenly and, as far as the audience I was watching it with are concerned, very shockingly. (My girlfriend spent part of this movie horizontal in her seat and her voice, which she had lost over the weekend, returned miraculously at certain junctures in the form of a scream).

To be fair to Bryan Bertino, who wrote and directed ‘The Strangers’, he has made a film that provides plenty of split-second shocks without resorting to the kind of shock value slashing of ‘Saw’ or the abhorrent ‘Hostel’ However, the film is extremely repetitive and, even worse, derivative. Blank, dead-eyed masks are scary but once one has appeared from nowhere on the screen it is very hard to make the audience jump the next time it happens. This situation crops up about ten times during the film and you always know when it’s going to happen – pretty much every five minutes. Aside from the masks, there are plenty of other clichés (red, scrawled writing appears on the windows, escape is hampered by injury to one of the good-guys). Movies like this rely on disorientation for its scares and, apart from one moment with a stuck record, there is nothing remotely disorientating about ‘The Strangers’ because it’s situations and it protagonists are too familiar from a hundred other movies. Added to the fact there is hardly any dialogue (though given the quality of what there is I should probably call that a plus-point) and the good-guys have much better weapons than the strangers (For fuck’s sake! You have a shotgun, they have one axe between three of them…) I have to say it is a bit dull with a suitably dull denouement.

It is good to see Liv Tyler though. I thought she had dropped off the face of the earth and I always thought she was quite a good actress. I imagine that the similar looking but younger Anne Hathaway gets all the roles once offered to Liv these days. I bet she is gutted she missed out on ‘Get Smart’.


‘The Strangers’ Genealogy

Grandparent: ‘Halloween’ (1978)
Estranged biological father: ‘Funny Games’ (1997)
Annoying, copycat sibling: ‘Eden Lake’ (2008)

The why.

I would love to be able to say that my earliest memories of movies were akin to those of Toto in 'Cinema Paradiso'. If they had been I could tell you of school holidays and weekends spent trying to sneak into the big movie house in my tiny home village and being taken under the wing of a grumpy, yet kindly projectionist. However my childhood was not spent this way. I have always lived in big cities or large towns with more than one cinema, I have never even met a projectionist, I didn’t grow up to be a successful film director, my Dad didn’t die in World War Two and I have never, ever risked pneumonia by standing below the bedroom window of a girl with dodgy eyebrows as the heavens opened.

However, the school holidays certainly had a large part to play in my movie education. When I was very young I used to watch, like the majority of children, any cartoon going. One of my favourites was the Larry Harmon produced 'Laurel & Hardy' series. As a toddler I was aware that these two animated figures may possibly have been based on real people but it wasn’t until I was a little more grown up, probably eight or nine, that I got to watch a real Laurel & Hardy movie thanks to those wonderful schedulers of BBC 2’s late morning programmes for children. What was that first film? Memory tells me it was 'Way Out West' but to be totally honest it could just as easily been 'One Good Turn', 'The Music Box' or 'Me and My Pal'. For six weeks my brother David and I were in wonderland and couldn’t get enough of Stan and Ollie. I did everything I could to ensure I was up and at home for them so that I could not only watch but video them for continued consumption. I mastered how to set the timer to record them at that early age in case my Mum had plans for us to go book shopping at Birkenhead market, bargain-hunting at Ellesmere Port or promenading at Llandudno or Southport. I cursed myself when I forgot to set the video and went ballistic when I discovered a recording of 'Coronation Street' where 'Saps at Sea' should have been. As my eldest brother was not a fan of L&H and I was absolutely convinced that he had purposely taped over them and from that moment on I zealously guarded them like a squirrel does with his nuts.

Perhaps the most pleasing side-effect of all this was that I was never going to be afflicted by that most odious of aversions that can affect the young – that they won’t watch black and white movies. I don’t think I can ever be a true friend with somebody who has this problem though I try to show tolerance. ‘I find them boring’ is the usual defence, in one sentence relegating 'Citizen Kane', 'Casablanca', 'Paths of Glory', 'Wild Strawberries' et al. below 'The Number 23', 'Ernest Saves Christmas' and 'The Spiderwick Chronicles' in terms of interesting or watchable films.

Over the years my love of films grew. I discovered Chaplin and Keaton, Tracy and Hepburn, Newman and McQueen. I grew to love Lang, worship Wilder, and marvel at Minnelli. I wanted to know James Stewart, drink with Richard Burton, make love to Jacqueline Bisset and be Cary Grant. The cinema had invaded me and I was powerless to resist. From Gene Kelly’s feet to Clark Gables’ ears I absorbed any film I could and still cried out for more. I knew about Claudette Colbert’s good side, Gene Wilder’s blue blanket and Sid James’ piles. Between the ages of 16 and 18 I was literally a review reading, movie watching, biography devouring machine and whilst my passion for all things cinematic has never gone away it has never quite reached those heights again (blame booze, girls and Steven Gerrard).

Movies are still a very important part of my life, rivalled only by football as an interest. I like to talk about them and that is really the reason why I have decided to write a blog about them. That is not to say that I am limiting myself to talking only about films, actors, directors etc. but they will make up the spine of what is written. If any one takes the time to read what I write them that is terrific and I hope that whoever they are they will enjoy what is written and feel free to comment on it.