Hammer Thrown

Hang the garlic - horror from beyond the ‘tome’ is heading your way…

Dracula's hand look a bit weird? Well, yes, my own was the model, dislocated pinky and all...

On the 30th September, 2016, I sent out a poorly-written and probably very naive book proposal to a number of publishers around the world.

Despite my lack of experience, Telos Publishing in Britain expressed some interest a few days later. And looking back, I see that they actually responded on my mother’s birthday, which is surprisingly appropriate.
Mum passed away in 2009, but more than anyone encouraged my young interest in science fiction, fantasy and horror - and the films of Hammer.

A month short of two years in the making, Infogothic: An Unauthorised Graphic Guide to Hammer Horror is now finished. A celebrity introduction from a busy and much-loved actress was a long time in coming, but once it arrived (and the wait was well worth it) things began moving very quickly indeed.

I’ve written about the book’s long gestation here:
http://fasmatodea.blogspot.com/2017/03/getting-hammered.html

http://fasmatodea.blogspot.com/2017/08/getting-hammered-pt-2.html

and felt it appropriate to round off with this conclusion. A 'Karnstein trilogy', if you like.

Infogothic is due for release this Halloween (set back a full year after the lengthy fact-checking and proofing found us with no time left in 2017), but is available for pre-order now.

Some wonderful friends have even signed up already - and I am busy gratefully building shrines to them now.
Forgive me if you’ve already seen me 'pimping' my book everywhere, after so much work I can’t sit back just yet.

Like a shonky Hammer bat, my unholy progeny has just flapped shakily out of the castle window, and is now unleashed upon the world. I hope it finds happy roosts in other Hammer fans bookshelves.

https://telos.co.uk/shop/film/infogothic-hammer-horror/

"More than sixty years ago, Hammer Horror first exploded onto screens in a splash of vivid colour. Over the following two decades, the studio redefined horror cinema and crafted an often-interconnected world of gothic fantasy. The many graphics, diagrams, illustrations and maps within these pages will take you on a journey through the ‘Hammer-verse’ (most likely by horse-drawn coach). Pursue Count Dracula through the centuries, reconcile the many versions of the careers of Frankenstein and Quatermass, translate the curses of ancient Egypt and explore ‘Hammer time’ from doe-skinned prehistory to plastic-clad future.

Everything you ever wanted to know about Hammer’s horror films is contained in this incredible graphic guide. Charts, templates, diagrams and illustration take you through all the facts and figures. From the relative heights of Frankenstein’s Monster, to the actors to have played Dracula … no stone is left unturned in this compelling and fascinating look at the films which redefined ‘Horror’ for a generation.

“Truly original and wonderfully illustrated” – from the Introduction by Caroline Munro

96pp. 11 x 8 paperback book in full colour.
ISBN: 978-1-84583-124-0
Published 31 October 2018"

Getting Hammered Pt 2

So you want to write a book? Be careful what you wish for…

Hello again dear, neglected blog. It’s probably just you and me listening, but I’m still going to write about how it feels to have got the first draft of Infogothic: An Unauthorised Graphic Guide to Hammer Horror, completed.

I’m sure such people must exist, but off-hand I can’t think of anyone else foolhardy enough to do every aspect of a project like this single-handedly.  In my day job I’ve been fortunate enough to be given opportunities as a published writer, designer and illustrator. I’ve designed books, researched information graphics and wrestled with the myriad technicalities of preparing a complex document for print.

So, why wouldn’t I do it all myself?

To answer to that question - I need to remind myself of the following: 

I have spent the last seven-and-a-half months working every possible spare hour I could find in my day, on this book. Whenever possible, I’ve started my day at 4:30am and worked in a freezing room (hello chilblains) until my day job or a grumbling stomach intervened.
I’m not a night owl but have burned the other end of the candle, too. I found that if I could get past my ’pain threshold’ of 10pm, I would end up having to make myself go to bed in the wee hours of the following morning.

Exercise has fallen by the wayside, as has sometimes even leaving the house. And to myself at least, I definitely look older. 

I’m not looking for sympathy though - I’ve loved every minute of it.

Whatever happens next, I hope that love comes through in this book.  My publishers might demand extensive changes, or lose confidence altogether. Even after it’s published I might end up with a garage full of unsold volumes, gathering dust and cobwebs like a Hammer film set.

But you know what else?  I’m proud of it. I’ve put everything I have into this book - most of my annual leave, every ounce of effort and what might pass for talent that I possess.

But not for a second am I forgetting any of the wonderful people who’ve supported and helped me - I will definitely thank them all properly in due course. But for now, you know who you are.

It’s an unusual product in an already very narrow market, but I know the ‘Monster Kids’ are out there - those of us who grew up adoring our horror films and learning to appreciate them like fine wines as they, and we, age.

I hope Infogothic finds them - and hopefully you - eventually. 

But for now, there is still some way way to go in bringing my very own ‘unholy creation’ to life.

Getting Hammered

Hammer horror, Hammer horror,
Won't leave it alone.
I don't know,
Is this the right thing to do?”

(Kate Bush)

Warning: spending too much time in your room could leave you looking like this...
(from Infogothic: A graphic guide to Hammer horror)

In my pre-teens I didn’t go out much. I spent too much time in my room and didn’t interact nearly enough with the real world. I didn’t do anything physically active, and if the very thought was not ridiculous to someone who still names his blog after a stick insect, I would almost certainly have been overweight and unhealthy. Instead I was immersed in a fantasy world of my favourite films and TV, pouring over books and magazines and writing and drawing pictures about them. It’s little wonder I had the social skills and physical coordination of a baby giraffe when hormones finally propelled me out of my bedroom.

Sometimes it feels as if I’ve lived my life trying to make up for this ever since - forcing myself outside in all hours and weathers for physical pursuits I might not even be very good at, pushing myself into social situations I’m probably equally ill-suited to.

So how utterly bizarre it is to come full circle all these decades later.

Instead of my bedroom, I now spend all my time at a keyboard in our office, and as much as I miss regular exercise, I’m still a stick insect. I’m even secretly glad we’ve just had the worst summer in living memory because I wouldn’t have been able to spend much time out in it. Much else has been neglected - needless to say this blog has been one of them. My wonderful wife has been incredibly patient and tolerant, only making occasional remarks about the anatomically-impossible position she believes my head to be lodged in, most of the time.

And I’m (only just) getting away with this blindingly anti-social and monstrously selfish behaviour because I’m writing a book, with a signed publisher’s contract and everything.

Coming soon...

I can’t remember the first Hammer film I actually saw, but do recall seeing a couple of seconds of a fanged, hissing Christopher Lee in an episode of Some mothers Do ‘Ave em when I was very young. Always like Frank Spencer in so many ways, this made an instant impression on me.

It’s taken forty-something years, but I’m now researching, designing, writing and illustrating a 94 page soft cover book about the horror films of Hammer Studios.
Very aware these productions have already been analysed, dissected and evaluated in molecular detail by authors all across the world (I was reading some of their books in my bedroom all those many years ago), I pitched a very different approach which astonishingly attracted some interest from a british publisher.

Over the last decade my day job has required me to produce infographics (information graphics) - visual representations of information which can be absorbed quickly by a reader, rather than having to be excavated from large bodies of text. These can be charts, diagrams, maps, graphs, schematics, illustrations - any visual device which analyses and informs.

Apart from the fact that successive generations of film fans are now delving deeper and deeper into the backgrounds and minutae of their favourite films, the perennially popular output of Hammer studios lends itself perfectly to this treatment. As with so many of their decisions, Hammer’s body of work was driven by cost considerations. Sequels were an efficient way to reuse props and costumes and calling upon the same actors familiar with the Hammer method of working saved time, as did reusing directors, writers and technicians.

The result of this ‘business model’ is a vast, interconnected world stretching across two decades of film-making. Sometimes it’s the fictional characters and settings which form the connective tissue, and sometimes it’s real-world factors. Either way, this gives me plentiful data which can be sifted and arranged into (hopefully) attractive and engaging infographics.

Will Infogothic - A graphic guide to Hammer horror sell? Will it actually see the light of day - will I even make my deadline? Even I’ve learned that many uncertainties lie between a project and a product in this industry.
The single best thing which has come out of this incarceration is the incredible generosity of fans and authors all over the world which I’ve encountered. They have been unfailingly encouraging and helpful with my every request and enquiry. I’m still reeling from the incredible kindness of one author who sent me a PDF of his entire out-of-print book for my own reference. Like Hammer films themselves, although the subject matter itself was often sensationalist or even tawdry - it was always executed with pure class.

This post is already longer than I intended, so it’s back to work. I’m not sure when I’ll return to this blog, but I definitely will - there’s been so much else to write about this year.
In the meantime; I’m learning a lot - not just about Hammer itself, but history, geography, languages and literally, rocket science. And I’m currently working on a fashion spread, charting the costumes of Hammer heroines from Raquel Welch’s doe-skin bikini in One Million Years BC to the PVC futurism of Moon Zero Two. So don’t feel sorry for me - and if you like what you hear - buy my book!

Under the Influenz

What doesn't kill you makes you... wish it would?

It's been  a long time - much longer than I ever promised myself I'd allow to pass between blog posts. It's also been a very trying couple of weeks but the result has been that I now realise I've probably never had the 'flu' in my life before.  It is not a cold, it is not a nice couple of days tucked up in bed, it is not a joke.

In  late 1918 New Zealand lost almost half as many people to influenza in two months as it had in the entire first World War.  The name comes the Italian word for 'influence', meaning that their astrologers believed this most unpleasant of viral blights was a direct result of some malign cosmological affect.

I'd best not dwell on having to miss a school friend's long looked forward to 50th birthday celebration, or a running event I'd trained for months for (perfect weather on the day, incidentally). And I certainly won't linger on the fact that I undoubtedly gave it to my lovely wife who only now is beginning to eat again and return to work.

Good things have happened too, not the least of them being finally recovering, but also successfully test-piloting a night shift from home (the result of months of careful diplomacy and fumblingly cobbling together an entirely different way of working which can still satisfy a barrage of impatient deadlines).

An exciting writing opportunity may be about to coalesce (or not) and a chance to sponsor (in a tiny way) an independent creator whose podcasts have given me much joy over the past few years has left me feeling unaccountably happy, particularly as the general response to his invitation to help has been extremely encouraging.

Despite feeling like a very worn insole bearing the weight of someone sweatily enjoying life a hell of a lot more than me, I managed to do a little creating as well.

I don't tweet and probably never will, but this illustration (knocked up in record time between coughing fits) accompanies a story about the potential mass destructiveness of twitter, when a predatory tweeting flock can round on a target and become a stinging swarm of social media wasps.  Ostracisation, job loss and worse can ensue.

Woefully un-Rugby minded, I now possibly understand more than most after having been given the apparent privilege of creating a Rugby World Cup wall chart.  Dates, times, stadium names, national flags and daylight saving adjustments in two hemispheres were scrupulously fretted over and constantly altered.  Most papers and on-line ran it throughout the country last weekend, so I guess that means it was worthwhile.

In an alternative universe, Hammer is packing out the multiplexes,
while Marvel is still making Saturday morning cartoon series for television

More personally fulfilling was this little number.  Having been invited to join a Facebook Hammer discussion Group, I fast-tracked this dubiously photoshopped pastiche to share. In some cases, these figures are composed of elements from over a dozen different pitifully-low resolution sources, and it certainly looks like it.  (Brian Donlevy's Quatermass wasn't even represented in colour anywhere!)  But hopefully it is as much fun for a Hammer fan to look at as it was for me to put together. (38 'likes' seems to indicate this might be the case).

Spot the difference

With the return of my appetite comes the return for a taste for life as well.  Good health, everyone!

War of the Words

One hundred years ago, international tension was fermenting, about to erupt into our first global conflict.

The 28th of this month marks the 100th anniversary of Austro-Hungary's declaration of war against Serbia, in response to the notorious assassination of the Heir to their throne in Saravejo.
What could have been yet another minor European un-neighbourly squabble quickly escalated as heavyweights Russia, Germany, France and Britain took sides according to which treaties were in place at the time. As the great powers' dominions and colonies joined the fray, even the United States eventually stepping into the ring in 1917, the cataclysm known as the first Great War raged for four years and claimed approximately 17 million lives.
It's a complex and tragic series of events which are still being unravelled today. Humour is an unexpectedly powerful learning tool which the BBC is no stranger to. Even the brilliant Black Adder Goes Forth made sharp and lasting observations about the Great War, not the least being the closing moments of the series.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vH3-Gt7mgyM

In a similar, but catchier vein, the BBC commissioned a Rap Battle from Balista Media, with key players present their points of view in Hip Hop style, as part of the WW1 100th Anniversary programming.

Daniel Page as Serbian assassin Gavrillo Princip and Morrison Thomas
as Austro-Hungarian Emperor Franz Joseph.

The over-worked writer eventually needed exploratory surgery when his larynx swelled to twice its size as a result of all the shouting into microphones he did while putting the tracks together. And on the shooting day military buttons pinged through the air as the performers aggressive gesticulations stressed the historically accurate uniforms.
The result, however, is genius: a masterclass application of music and humour to relate a complex and important story. But don't take my word for it:

(With thanks to Gary for bringing this, yo.)

Winter Solace

Happy Matariki!  The mid-winter theme continues with some
history and masochism...

Rituals give comfort when the world around us starts to feel like a less benign place, and we are reminded of just how small and vulnerable our lives are on a more elemental scale.  Where we basked in sun just a month ago, now the air is turning cold and, particularly recently, raging gales drive stinging sheets of rain across the land with primal indifference to anything in its way.  Nature has turned from generously bestowing light and warmth to taking those same things away, sending us scurrying for cover like the small, shivering mammals we are.

In ancient times this meant more than putting on a layer of polypropylene and turning up the heat pump; the change to the darkest season could threaten survival. Cold, starvation, flood and a score of other dangers awaited as the sun fell ever lower in the grey, uncaring sky.
But ancient peoples, like other animals on Earth who already knew, became aware that there was a pattern to the seasons: a planetary life cycle.  Just as it began to seem that the world couldn’t become any darker and colder, the sun would begin to climb higher in the sky once again, and light and warmth gradually returned.
In preparation, some livestock were slaughtered so that precious feed didn’t need to be found for them over the frozen season to come, which provided a bounty of fresh meat. Alcoholic beverages had also been fermented over the preceding months and were now ready to be enjoyed.  The longest, coldest nights became a time of celebration, feasting, companionship and merriment, observed in practically every culture across the world with festivals and resurrection myths.

Many traditions we are most familiar with come to us from the Northern Hemisphere, where their midwinter takes place at the end of the year - and so whether we realise it or not, we gleefully celebrate their biggest mid-winter bash when the sun is highest and brightest in our own skies: Christmas.
The appropriation and absorption of the ancient European Pagan festivals into the tinsel-strewn Christian/commercial touchstone we look forward to, (as well as our New Year observances), is a long and complex story. In order to dodge a history lesson, I like to think it can all be distilled down to a common human desire to celebrate hope, peace and joy.

Instead, let’s look at our own hemisphere.
Matariki is the Maori New Year observance, marked by the rising of the beautiful star cluster sporting the same name (also called the Pleiades, or ‘seven sisters’) and the sighting of the next New moon. This takes place on June 28 this year.

Traditionally, depending on the visibility of Matariki, the coming season’s crop was thought to be determined: the brighter the stars, the warmer the season.  Originally, this was a time to remember ‘absent friends and family’, but was also a celebration –with harvesting and hunting completed, the food storehouses were replenished and Matariki became a time for music and feasting.
Enjoying something of a resurgence in recent years, Matariki is hopefully on its way to becoming our New Zealand thanksgiving.                

Personally, my own annual midwinter ritual has always been an exercise in unabashed masochism.  I live near a river which makes its way down from the snowy heights of the Tararua ranges, and at the end of each June I harass a small but brave band until they join me in a mid-winter swim.  This extremely quick dip usually takes place mid-morning, forced bravado shedding at the same rate as our many layers of clothing, before the charge is led over the frosty river stones and into the stingingly cold water.  Unfortunately extremely loud and ripe language always immediately follows our re-surfacing and rapid retreat for the shore, towels and sometimes a waiting nip of whisky. Beyond ‘the dare’ it’s difficult to answer the inevitable question: “Why would you do that?”  Rituals can be as self-apparent as they are inexplicable, but I also suspect I’m drawn to that moment when the water closes over my head, just before the pain and cardiac arrest set in, when my every nerve and fibre feels completely and utterly alive.

Perhaps this isn’t as mad as it sounds, for the Northern Hemisphere winter solstice has always been a time of re-affirming and celebrating life, and doing things which you hope will never appear on anyone’s Facebook page
So let’s follow their example this year, and look forward to our own approaching mid-winter not with gloom, but with friends, family, feasting - and comfort and joy.
  

The Southern Lights

35 years ago, New Years Eve in New Zealand made world headlines,
but not for any reasons you might expect. 

The final day of 2013 has dawned hot and bright – already the best day weather-wise since Christmas, over a week ago.  And this is quite natural, as this also happens to be my first day back at work, since finishing an absurd 22 hour shift on Christmas Eve.

Part of the reason for this rather long day was my determination to complete a project which I first began working on in the middle of this year, but then found less and less time available to work on as my job spiralled into the purgatory of ‘admin’.

Today is the 35^th anniversary of one of the world’s most famous UFO sightings. And it happened more or less above my head as twelve-year-old me slept on oblivious to the fact that the Marlborough skies were at that moment full of a phenomenon which I usually sent everyone else to sleep with.

I do remember seeing the now-famous footage shot by Quentin Fogarty’s camera crew, soon afterwards, on their return to Blenheim in the very early hours of December 31 1978. Although reportedly feeling as if their Argosy freighter was being played with by the mysterious objects like a lumbering fishing boat surrounded by a mischievous pod of darting, leaping dolphins, the film sadly does little to convey this. Instead a fuzzy, ‘squashed orange’ bumped around TV screens all over the country (and eventually the world) accompanied by Fogarty’s excited narrative.  In fact, I’m pretty certain we didn’t even have a colour TV then, but the even less impressive result did little to curb my enthusiasm.

Despite being the only case of unidentified flying objects ever verified by multiple radar sources and visual sightings simultaneously, (amounting to several reliable witnesses including  experienced air crews and air traffic controllers), and on top of all that actually filmed – few people seem to remember this incident today.  The only echoes of it I was aware of years later came from seeing pilot Captain Bill Startup’s son ribbed in my seventh form class, because of his father’s experiences.

I managed to acquire both Bill Startup’s book (The Kaikoura UFOs) and journalist Quentin Fogarty’s (Let’s Hope They’re Friendly!) for my research, and each give fascinating accounts - Startup’s  factually, and Fogarty’s more emotionally.  Either way, it’s clear that there was an awful lot more to this story than the public was ever made aware of, and this was emphasised further by the white-wash report prepared by the New Zealand Defence Force.  The nearby Japanese Squid fishing Fleet and/or Venus rising explanations offered are both embarrassingly inadequate, and perhaps the reaction of an anxious Government caught short by the possibility of foreign aircraft making merry in our airspace while the Cold War still loomed.

To me it’s very appropriate that this event occurred during the festive season, book-ended by child-like amazement and looking to the future. The universe, and even some aspects of New Zealand history, is still full mysteries. As we enter a bright new year may we never lose our capacity for wonder.

Happy New Year!

Who's turning 50: Part Two

It's here at last, but the moment has been prepared for

Thursday 21 November

The anniversary celebrations really began for me this afternoon at the Embassy theatre.  Doctor Who was up there on the big screen, but it wasn’t some time-paradoxical screening of The Day of the Doctor from the near future.  It was part of a show reel of the very best which New Zealand television’s greatest television channel is offering next year.

The Prime new season launch in Wellington is an annual event which I always look forward to. In some ways, it feels like the very first stirrings of the festive season with bubbles and gifts, and it’s always great to catch up with these lovely people who do so much promote Doctor Who in New Zealand.

I found myself in a ‘your sad teenage self would never have believed this’ situation, being engaged in conversation by two beautiful women who only wanted to talk about how exciting the Doctor Who anniversary special was.  I know it’s their job and I know our acquaintance is purely a business one, but all the same it was in equal parts bizarre and utterly delightful. 

Friday 22 November

Then the following morning this charming graphic and apparently very addictive game was brought to my attention by a variety of friends and colleagues throughout the day. 

 Even my sister texted me updates of her progress through the game.

Workmates who had no real interest in the programme took breaks to pitch themselves against a lone obstreperous Dalek, and ask me various questions about the history and anniversary of Doctor Who during the day. An editor asking me who Catherine Tate played and how to spell ‘Noble’, and stuff.co.nz asking for a copy of the infographic at the top of this post to put on-line made it seem as if Doctor Who was seeping into all aspects of every-day life.

To my surprise the fiftieth anniversary was indeed starting to feel like a global celebration, or at least the eve of one.

Saturday 23 November

The big day dawned hot and sunny, a further reminder that it may be the half-centennial here, but in the wintry northern hemisphere the anniversary special, wouldn’t screen until 8.50am the next day, our time.

I passed the day very happily, doing odd jobs outside while enjoying the boundless generosity of my friends Peter and Dave, firmly plugged into my ipod and listening to some ‘aural Who’.   

Under the banner of Destiny of the Doctor, Audio Go and Big Finish have collaborated this year to release an audio story for each Doctor, each month, culminating with the eleventh Doctor adventure which I listened to today.  Wrapping up the previous ten month’s stories and telling a great yarn in its own right, listening to this proved to be a perfect way to quietly celebrate this special date, in anticipation of the main event tomorrow.

Sunday 24 November

The line between tragedy and comedy became even finer than usual this morning.  Tomorrow night we are going to see The Day of the Doctor at a packed cinema, in 3-D, but I wanted to see it today so as not to be ‘spoilered’ as soon as I went anywhere near the internet or a newspaper.  And if I’m to be entirely honest, I also wanted some reassurance that I wasn’t setting up others seeing it with me for a less than memorable night out.

So, as arranged, I called around at a neighbour’s home to watch, only to discover that in the recent digital change-over, they had somehow lost Prime – the channel exclusively screening the anniversary special.

At least half an hour was spent, flicking between all the other channels, trying a busy helpline and scouring an incomprehensible manual, before I concluded that fate was telling me to get outside and enjoy the sun instead.

Walking home, I gave in to last-minute temptation and called in on another neighbour, who made me a cup of tea and watched the remaining last half of the special with me – in a perfect state of incomprehension.  Bless you Brian, I don’t think you’ll ever know what it meant to me and I only hope the experience of me alternating between whooping with surprise and joy and shedding nostalgic tears hasn’t traumatised you too much.

Having only seen the last half, I can’t even begin to review this story, and indeed, most likely won’t, as three posts on the fiftieth anniversary of Doctor Who are probably enough.

But I will say that what I saw certainly ticked all the boxes for me, and then drew some more boxes and ticked those too.  I eventually left to shovel sheep poo in sweltering heat for a couple of hours, with a grin on my face and still-moist eyes, feeling completely satisfied and very fortunate.  Not only do I now know how it ends, but I still have forty-odd minutes to look forward to tomorrow night which I haven’t seen yet.

Many happy returns, Doctor!

With final apologies to The Radio Times

Hip to be Square

The dubious rubber-fetishism of 'the Bat' has never been for me, I've always been a blue tights kind of guy...

Superman is 75 this year, so it’s almost impossible to imagine a time when he wasn’t leaping tall buildings in a single bound.  The ‘Man of Tomorrow’ has had his highs and lows throughout the decades, but it’s good to be able to write about this particular pop culture icon now, at a time when he seems to be flying higher than ever. 

I've already written about the extreme relief which Man of Steel's success has been this year, and I can never suppress a wry smile when I see the current preponderance of the 'S' symbol on street wear when I'm out and about in our own Metropolis.  It's as if the old fashioned values of Superman, which had seemed to disappear under a bat-shaped shadow of cynicism and vengeance some time ago, (or was it actually a huge ‘M’ for Marvel?), have finally emerged back into the sun.  Perhaps newer generations are less inclined to shuffle uncomfortably when faced with words like truth and justice; righteous outrage and intolerance of societal ills are apparently Y-Generation traits and we should all be grateful for that.

However, the direction Man of Steel's marketing took seemed initially at odds to this proud new attitude.  Not only did we seem to have a film without the character’s name in the title and a shy teaser poster which barely even shows the ‘S’ symbol, but a trailer which cut Amy Adams off before she can even say “Superm…”  As we now know however, this apparent coyness turned out to be nothing of the kind, and all for good reason.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  I'd call myself a fan of the character, but at the same time feel somewhat fraudulent in doing so in doing so because Superman is a creation of the DC comics world, and I never read them.  With a scant few exceptions, my experience of Superman is almost exclusively through what are strictly called adaptations - in film and television. 

George Reeve was Superman when I was growing up in the mid-seventies, even if Adventures of Superman actually first screened in 1952. It wasn't unusual to have shows of this vintage screened in prime viewing slots back then, and the fact that it was one of the very first series ever to be filmed in colour probably helped (not that any of us had colour TVs yet). We didn't know or care that it was horribly dated even then.  The rushing wind sound as Superman took to the air (in the same special effects shot every time, which looked as if it had been matted with a black felt pen) and the unforgettable introduction (“...is it a bird, is it a plane..”) were the most exciting thing our 15 inch black and white screen ever lost its vertical hold on.

 In years to come, a little film by George Lucas absolutely hypnotised and entranced me to the exclusion of almost all else.  So when I heard that a Superman film was coming out the following year, which according to the inevitable hype was going to be 'better than Star Wars' , I vowed to hate it there and then. I probably wouldn’t even have gone to see it, except my family, (once again, I recall it was Mum who was especially keen) dragged me along while we were away on holiday.

I’d love to report that I loved Superman the Movie on sight, but I stupidly wouldn’t let myself. I knew it was good, I could see that Christopher Reeve was the Man, but instead I picked and niggled at this magical film like the brat I was.

But two years later, we all went to see Superman II and that experience transformed me into a life-long fan in the space of 127 minutes. Yes, it’s a fabulous film (although even I came to realise not as fabulous as the first) but it was more what happened at this particular screening.  During the climactic battle in, under and above Metropolis, the whole cinema audience went crazy for Superman. Perhaps it was a little ironically intended, or maybe this spontaneous release of enthusiasm could have happened at another film - but that night everyone clapped and cheered and yelled for all they were worth.

I’d never experienced an audience responding to a film like that before and I doubt I ever will again - walking out of that cinema, with John William’s beloved score still blaring from the speakers, I felt like I wanted to fly.  “We used to cheer the cowboys at the pictures” said my Dad afterwards, “Now they’re cheering Superman!”

By the time Superman III arrived, friends and I took our girlfriends – the days of tagging along with our families were past. It was fun, but if we felt like being analytical we could see that it was very far from a good film.  And when Superman IV limped into cinemas four years later I couldn’t even find anyone prepared to see it with me, and only caught it myself many years later on VHS (not the best use I ever put my membership card to).

These were the dark years, but while everyone flocked to see Batman at the cinema, I rediscovered Superman the Movie through VHS, and with the maturing of what passed for my critical faculties I could finally appreciate it for the modern masterpiece it was.  Of course it has its faults, but the tone is absolutely right.  The world believed a man could fly back in 1978 because everyone involved in this film believed it too, particularly Director Richard Donner and his Star.  Even Brando, overweight, overpaid and unrehearsed, turns in a performance of almost preposterous gravitas and dignity.

I never really invested in Lois and Clark: the New Adventures of Superman on TV, as it always struck me as little more than a thinly-caped vehicle for Teri Hatcher’s debatable talents.  It certainly had its fans though.  When Christopher Reeve’s tragic 1995 accident was reported and someone at work gasped that Superman had broken his neck, another very young colleague cried: “Oh no, poor Dean Cain!” Similarly, Smallville never caught on with me – ten years of foreplay – really?

What did excite me was the news that the ‘Godfather of the modern superhero film’ and massive Superman fan, Bryan Singer was bringing ‘Big Blue’ back to the screen.  Everything about it sounded perfect – John William’s music: tick, a sequel which follows on from the second Reeve film and over-writes the last two: GREAT idea, a digital Brando cameo: could it get any better?

It might be surprising to contemplate that, takings–wise, Superman Returns was a huge success and there was much talk of a sequel.  However, what we saw on screen was proof that you can be too much in love with something, as Singer clearly was with the 1978 film. His ‘sequel’ actually comes across as an infatuated remake (coining the expression ‘re-quel’), as he lovingly re-crafts key scenes and even lines of dialogue from Donner’s film.  The title sequence, a 21st century reworking of the original opening, is great, and when the rare action is delivered, it hits the spot.  However, with his annoyingly undersized ‘S’, Brandon Routh comes across as more of a ‘Superboy’ and this rather ‘emo’ film has been labelled the world’s first ‘Superhero weepie’.

A limited market, to be sure…

Seven years later, Man of Steel took the exact opposite approach to Singer, treating the subject as if it had never been filmed before.  So there are no 'kisses to the past' in terms of previous films, but I'm assured that there are plenty to the mythology of the comics. And with that, I'll move on as I've probably written quite enough about this year's film in these last two posts.

I think I’m a Superman fan for two reasons, apart from three very good films.  Like Kal-El, I’m adopted and although my own special powers seem limited to emulating the creature this blog is named after, the concept of being raised by parents who didn’t bring you into this world but love you all the more for it strikes a chord with me.  Trying to adapt to a strange new environment at a very young age, as I did when we immigrated, also has resonance.
And secondly, despite my unspectacular personal record, I think it’s important to constantly strive to be better than we are. To hold yourself back from simply responding in kind to unthinking aggression and prejudice, to help others whenever you can and never give in if you believe your cause is a just one.  Man of Tomorrow is an apt name for this ‘strange visitor from another planet’ because I also believe that if we strive to live up the same ideals, we can all be super men one day.
 

The above images of  George Reeves, Christopher Reeve and Henry Cavill are taken from Zack Snyder's
wonderful 75th anniversary animated short - enjoy it here:

And here is my own 75th anniversary tribute (magnify to read):

The Heart of Matter

This marvellous book explains the world’s most famous equation, by writing its biography.

Author and scholar David Bodanis was apparently inspired to write this book when he read an interview with Cameron Diaz in which the actress expressed an earnest desire to understand what E=mc² means.

Most of us can recognise Einstein, and perhaps even mumble something about ‘special theory of relativity’ if pressed.  Perhaps I should just speak for myself here: I could even get as far as knowing that E is energy and m had something to do with matter, and the speed of light was involved somehow, but could I claim to understand it?  Of course not.  At least, until I read this amazing book

It is a biography, not of Einstein, although we certainly learn much of the man, but the equation itself.  Bodanis takes us through the ‘life story’ of each element of the equation (yes, even the ‘equals sign’ gets a chapter) and then, once we’ve been thoroughly edified and entertained, gives us this wonderful gift:

“…mass is simply the ultimate type of condensed or concentrated energy.  Energy is the reverse, it’s what billows out as an alternate form of mass under the right circumstances.  As an analogy think of the way that a few wooden twigs going up in flames can produce a great volume of billowing smoke.  To someone who’d never seen fire, it would be startling that all that smoke was ‘waiting’ inside the wood. The equation shows that any kind of mass, in theory, can be manipulated to billow out in an analogous way. It also says this will happen far more powerfully than what you would get by simple chemical burning – there is much greater expansion. That enormous conversion factor of 448,900,000,000,000,000 (the speed of light squared, represented as ‘c²’) is how much any mass gets magnified if it’s ever fully sent across the “=” of the equation.”

This was a revelation to me.  At school we were handed huge science text books called Matter, energy and life, the implication being that these three ‘kingdoms’ might well interact, but were to be thought of as very much separate entities.  We won’t discuss the meaning of life here, but matter and energy are in fact a ‘holy duality’, two aspects of the same thing, and Einstein proved it.

But Bodanis’s book is not just about Einstein, as I’ve said.  New Zealand ‘Father of physics’ Ernest Ruthford (fondly described by Bodanis as a ‘booming-voiced rugby player’ and by Einstein as ‘a second Newton’) is crucial in the ongoing story of understanding matter/energy.  To harken back to school again, we are all taught that Lord Rutherford ‘split the atom’.  Not content with explaining Einstein’s equation, Bodanis also explores what that rather glib expression which we all learned by rote actually means. This man who went to school in Havelock actually surveyed, redefined and ultimately transformed the building block of the entire universe. Below is a graphic I produced to mark his birthday in August.  (Once again, zoom in if you’d like to read all the text).

 

The Abominable Bushman

Another famous mystery has been making the news, so it’s time to visit its local cousin.

Earlier this month Doctor Who fans received a special fiftieth anniversary gift when two stories long assumed lost were recovered in Nigeria.  One of these was a tale long-coveted: Web of Fear, which not only introduced Alistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart for the first time, but brought back Doctor Who’s terrifying interpretation of the Yeti.  This was one of the very first target novelisations I ever read back in the late ‘70s (all but the first episode were believed gone forever even then), so I’m very much looking forward to finally seeing it.

  Then a couple of days ago Oxford University Geneticist Bryan Sykes announced that DNA tests on unidentified hair samples from the Himalayas have brought us closer to identifying the Yeti.  In a strange case of life imitating art, Sykes doesn’t present the familiar image of the man-beast most immediately identified with the mysterious creature, but, like the Doctor Who story mentioned above*, speculates that it could be a “more aggressive, more dangerous…bipedal” bear-like creature!

http://www.stuff.co.nz/science/9299444/DNA-clue-links-Yeti-to-bear

I’ve been fortunate enough to spend some time in the Himalayas, including a memorable night in a valley infamous for a ‘yeti attack’, and was also able to speak to a close friend of Sir Edmund Hillary about his 1960 Yeti expedition, while researching the graphic below.  Although Tenzing was convinced, Sir Ed remained sceptical, and in respect to Professor Sykes’ recent discovery, it seems to me that Himalayan people have always spoken of more than one type of creature.

 However, the New Zealand equivalent, the Maeroero, or Moehau, makes for a wonderful camp fire story.  Regrettably, I had to rely on some reports of a decidedly ‘tall’ nature for my timeline, and would have preferred to focus on pre-European Maori myths of ‘other races’ living in these islands.  Alas the time to give this subject the respect and detail it deserved wasn’t available to me.  One day, hopefully!  

*Yes, of course I know they were really fur-covered robots!