'That Thing'- A Sketch

The dialogue came to me in a dream and I wrote it down on the train home.


Lights up.

Two people on stage- MUM and DAD. They sit upon chairs.

M: Do you remember?
D: Remember what?
M: You know.
D: What?
M: That thing.
D: What thing?
M: That thing.
D: Which thing?
M: That thing!
D: I don’t remember.
M: You do.
D: I don’t.
M: You do!
D: I do?
M: Yes!


Pause


D: What thing?
M: You know.
D: I don’t.
M: You do. It’s that thing.
D: Which thing?
M: That one.
D: That one?
M: No, that one.
D: I don’t remember.
M: You do!
D: I don’t.
M: It’s that thing!
D: What thing?
M: That thing!
D: I don’t remember.
M: You do! (Pause) Oh, it’s that thing!
D: That thing?
M: No, that thing!
D: That thing?
M: Yes! That thing!
D: Ah, that thing!
M: That thing.
D: I do remember.
M: You do.
D: I do, yes.
M: Yes.
D: That thing was good.
M: It was good.

D: I thought you meant that thing.
M: No, that thing.
D: I see.
M: Yes.


Pause


D: What about it?
M: What?
D: That thing.
M: That thing?
D: That thing.
M: It was good.
D: Yes. Very good.
M: Good that thing was.
D: Yes. Very good. Very good.


Black-out.

For Those...

For those 3 people (myself in included) who read this rarely updated blog should know I've started up a new one- http://bergmanblogathon.blogspot.com/

Because I had an obsession with Ingmar Bergman's films and 30 of them on DVD I'm going to review all of them on that blog.

Charles Dance

When I heard that Charles Dance would be gracing DeMontfort with his presence I was very excited as I am a fan of his. As you can imagine when I heard that the event was cancelled I was very disappointed. I presume the reason for his cancellation is that he got a job at short notice, so in the hour I should have spent listening to him talk about his career, I imagined what films he could be making instead...

‘Land of 1,000 Dances’- on a mysterious island a government experiment clones Charles Dance 1,000 times, think ‘Battle Royale’ meets ‘Bleak House’

‘Save the Last Dance’- the sequel to ‘Land of 1,000 Dances’

‘Dance with a Stranger’- Charles Dance in conversation with whoever we can pull off the street.

‘Dance of the Dead’- A lowly shop worker (Charles Dance) tries to get his girlfriend back and survive a zombie apocalypse.

‘Dance Floor’- A supernatural horror about a young couple who find their floor is alive (voiced by Charles Dance)

‘The Forbidden Dance’- A dystopian future where Charles Dance is banned, but can a small band of resistance fighter armed with copies of ‘The Jewel In The Nile’ change that?

'Dance With Death'- Charles Dance and Death take the opportunity to interview each other and discuss their lives and careers.

And finally...

‘Dances With Wolves’- Charles Dance and a pack of wolves take on old London town.

How I Became A Psychopath Over Christmas

When I first read ‘Othello’ and saw the film with Laurence Fishbourne and Kenneth Branagh, my first thought was for a play called ‘Othello’ the more interesting part was Iago. Sure the play’s about an honest man who gets his life torn apart, but for me I was far more interested in the man doing the tearing- Iago. So knowing I had Christmas to go through before return to studying I decided to look at Iago myself and asking that timeless actor’s question- how could I do it?

My initial question was- why is Iago doing this? He gives reasons (a fair few) such as racism, jealousy of being passed over for promotion, fears that Othello seduced his wife, and commentators have listed many, many more ideas of why Iago does what he does. I found a great quote by the actor Andy Serkis (aka Gollum from Lord of the Rings) from when he played Iago and he came up with this:

“There are a million theories to Iago's motivations, but I believed that Iago was once a good soldier, a great man's man to have around, a bit of a laugh, who feels betrayed, gets jealous of his friend, wants to mess it up for him, enjoys causing him pain, makes a choice to channel all his creative energy into the destruction of this human being, and becomes completely addicted to the power he wields over him. I didn't want to play him as initially malevolent. He's not the devil. He's you or me feeling jealous and not being able to control our feelings."

I think that, yes, this is an interesting interpretation, and makes Iago more of a sympathetic figure, who succumbs to power. As good as it is, it’s just not how I’d play it. I don’t think I could play an honest man who breaks down like that. Something I agree with him though is that Iago certainly is intelligent, very much so. So I began to form my interpretation that Iago is a psychopath. He uses this great intelligent negatively to destroy several people’s lives out of some narcissistic desire. I think that Iago really seems people as a means to an end, almost as if when he speaks to people he knows that if he says ‘x’ it will produce reaction ‘y’, which makes him seem so cold and viewing others as little more than machines.

When I began to think about Iago as a psychopath, I began to think about the show ‘Heroes’ of which I am a fan, and I thought about the character of Sylar. Now I think that Zachery Quinto puts in great performances ever week as the psychopathic Sylar. He really fit’s the ‘classic’ mould of a psychopath- cold, detached and without empathy. The reason why he kills is that he believes that he is ‘special’ and so steals other people’s superpowers people who he doesn’t believe are worthy of them.. So I began to think of Iago like this- believing that he is owed more than he gets, that he is ‘special’ and cannot understand why unworthy people (Cassio and Othello) get more than he does. So to him it must seem logical to get rid of them.

But my whole Sylar analogy began to fall apart when I looked upon his manner- isolated from other people. Iago certainly is not an isolated figure, in fact other characters seem very fond of him (“Honest Iago” oh, Will, you ironic devil, you), so if he is this cold and detached person then why the hell would people like him? And why the hell would Amelia marry him? What would she see in him? So I want back to the drawing board.

I found inspiration from another source after days of pondering over how on earth I could make my Iago work when I watched the film ‘10 Rillington Place’. At Christmas I try to keep my watching of Christmas films at a minimal (all that sugar-sweetness, snowy, jolly goodness doesn’t mix well with me) and so ‘10 Rillington Place’ seemed very much an anti-Christmas. It’s based on a true story about serial killer John Christie, played magnificently by Sir Richard Attenborough. When I was discussing my Iago dilemma with my best mate and said I’d been inspired by a Richard Attenborough performance he was taken aback as, like most of my generation, he thinks of Richard Attenborough as the kindly old grandfather in ‘Jurassic Park’ or Father Christmas. But his career wasn’t always like this, oh no, most of his early career was based on playing violent hoodlums (go see ‘Brighton Rock’- a British film noir).

Anyway, Richard Attenborough was fantastic as John Christie who was a serial killer in the 40’s and 50’s. What struck me was that he didn’t appear to be a ‘traditional’ psychopath, Christie was even married, like Iago, and she, like Amelia, discovered all too late what her husband was up too. I got the dvd of the film so I could watch the interviews with Attenborough about the role, and he made point that Christie wanted people to trust him and spoke in a very gentle tone of voice that was also sing-songy. It was how he lured people but speaking gently and telling them what they wanted to hear. So I began to try and read Iago’s speeches in a gentle voice and sing-songy way, which was hard at first to try and not sound too much like Salad Fingers.

There’s a moment in the film where Christie tells someone that he has a background of medical experience and I (like the victim) didn’t question it. It was only towards the end of the film that’s revealed as a lie, and the audience realises that Christie must be a pathologically liar. This suits Iago so well, that he just lies and lies to get what he wants from that person. So Iago is never sincere in reality, but he must always seem sincere to those he speaks to, not like Richard III who can afford to give the audience a wink. Now, I did see similarities between Iago and Richard, but they’re very different roles to play as Richard has so many wonderfully black lines I find it’s hard not to play him with a smile.

Not so long ago I had a drink with a friend who had studied Psychology at college, and in conversation I mentioned that I’d been looking into the character of Iago over the break. Luckily he knew the play and gave me his interpretation that Iago is not a psychopath, but a sociopath. He argued that Iago is not a psychopath because he isn’t violent enough, whereas I think that he is. But the sociopath idea is an interesting one as it fits with my idea of his narcissism and his clinical view of other people.

So all of it boils down into what I want to channel into the part of Iago that he’s so sure of what he’s doing (destroying lives) and believes it to be right and logical, and must appear to others as very sincere and, hell, even nice and helpful, but inside he is plotting, quietly and calming. I suppose I could have made things easier for myself and just read one of those True Crime books, but I really don’t want to read anything like that because I think those sort of things would upset and disturb me. It was only as I was looking into the character of Iago that I realises just how many films, programmes, books are about psychopaths and cast them as villains, like I saw ‘The Dark Knight’ at last and The Joker is clearly insane, and ‘No Country For Old Men’ when Javier Bardem’s character function and works on his own brand of logic.

Well, that’s one way of fending off boredom over Christmas.

I Like Short Shorts

There's no real 'official' name for stories under 30 words, but even if there was I'd still call them 'short shorts', for obvious reasons. Anyway, I was inspired by Ernest Hemmingway's story 'Baby Shoes' which is 6 words long and a masterstroke. I tried at this format and found that it suited my more drier sense of humour.

Modern Love
“Can I add you on Facebook?”

Ward No. 9
They say they keep the worse of them in Ward No. 9. I’ve never been up there. They say it’s too dangerous.

Psycho Killer
I love it when it rains. Clears the blood off better.

I Love You (Or- The Butterfly Collector)
Why is it so hard for her to say ‘I love you’? Maybe I should loosen the gag.

Noir
I’m sure she did it. Shame she’s so damn beautiful.

Only A Pawn In Their Game
What’s so good about a Knight anyway? There’s two of them and eight of us.

Advice to A Sick Man
“With a flu make sure you have enough to drink.”
“That’s ok. I’ve got some rum left over from Christmas.”

Boobs
I was told to sex up my work.

The Death Of James Dean
“He’s bound to move out of the way.”

In Dreams...
I held her at last. Then, she kissed me.

A Mugging
After my date with Susan I got threatened with a gun and my wallet was stolen. I went after it but got beaten up. I’m never going to trust a woman again.

'The Man Who Loved Cats'

'The Man Who Loved Cats'

He had the target lined up neatly in the crosshairs. He followed the target carefully, following the movement. The target had been easy to spot- a yellow vest, green shorts and a white sweatband around his large head. Moments ago Elliot had stopped to observe this hideously dressed jogger before realising that he was the target he was looking for.
The crosshairs followed the chest area. A head shot would have been more effective, but the head was a smaller area and more difficult to follow. An excellent shot at the chest would produce the same desired effect.
Elliot pulled the trigger.
The target fell forwards and hit the ground. Elliot stood and dismantled the rifle. He put each part of the rifle inside of a leather briefcase. He picked up the briefcase and opened the fire escape door and walked down the stairs until he reached ground level. He walked through the reception to the main street. Dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase Elliot did not stand out on Hong Kong’s streets.

“He’s dead?”
“Yes.” Elliot replied. He handed the man the briefcase with the rifle in.
“My employer will be very pleased.”
Elliot nodded, “I want my fee within the next 24 hours.”
“You can have it within the next hour, if you wish.”
“I do.”
The man smiled as him, “Something important back where you’re from?”
“Yes.” Elliot replied. The man smile faltered and knew that the assassin would say no more. Elliot did not tell people about Hermione.

He returned to his hotel two hours later. He packed his luggage and called for a taxi to the airport. The taxi arrived shortly and drove him to the airport. Upon arriving Elliot paid the fare and checked in at the main desk. He then went into the bar and had two small gins. As he walked through to the departure lounge he stopped in at a gift shop to see if he could find a present for Hermione, she was very fussy about what Elliot brought for her. He selected a gift and handed it to a smiling girl behind the counter.

He returned to London at twenty minutes past three. He took a taxi from the airport to his penthouse. He lived two floors away from the top of the building but refused to take the elevator. He carried his luggage upstairs and reached his door. He took out his key, unlocked the door then opened it. The penthouse was as he left it. “Hermione?” He called. There was only silence. He dragged his luggage inside and shut the door. “Hermione?” He checked the bedroom and couldn’t see her there. He’d left the balcony door partially opened in case she wanted to go outside. He opened the door fully and walked onto the balcony. There was no sign that she’d even been outside. He returned inside and went into the kitchen. He’d left her enough food and water for a week, and it looked only a slightly less amount than he originally left for her. “Hermione?” He called.
There was a knock at the door. Elliot passed through the living room to the door and partially opened it.
“Mr. Landry?”
“Yes?” Elliot replied. He recognized the man at the door from working in reception. He was a small, greasy man with an unease smile.
“Mr. Landry, I saw you come in and I thought that…”
“Yes?”
“I should speak to you.” The greasy man said. There was a long pause.
“About?”
“It’s… it’s your cat I’m afraid.”
“Hermione?”
“Yes…” He looked down at Elliot shoes. It infuriated him when people did that. “Your cat… managed to get down to the ground… did she do that often?”
“Yes.”
“Well…. She got down to the ground and I’m afraid to say that she was run over. Hit by a car.”
Elliot nodded.
“I’m… very sorry, Mr. Landry.”
He nodded again.
“You would have been told sooner but the mobile phone number you gave us, and to the vets, didn’t work. You must switch mobiles often.”
“Who…”
“The vet told us it was your cat. It was on the chip you see.”
“Whose car was it?”
“A resident here I’m afraid.”
“Who?”
“An old gentlemen a few floors below you.”
“What room?”
“Oh, Mr. Landry, I don’t thi-”
“What room?”
The small , greasy man rubbed his hands and looked up and said, “Room 19 if you must know, sir…”
“Thank you.” Elliot said and shut the door.

George was watching ‘Deal Or No Deal’ when there was a knock at the door. At first he ignored it, but when it came again he decided to answer. “Alright, alright…” He grumbled.
He got up, walked across the apartment and opened the door. “Yes? Can I help you?” He said to the strange man outside.
“My name is Elliot. I live downstairs.”
“Elliot?” He said the name to try and bring back remembrance of it. It struck him and he groaned. “Oh dear, the man with-”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear. Look, I am sorry, it just shot out in front of the road, I didn’t see it-”
“How old are you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How old are you?”
“I don’t see ho-”
“Answer the question.”
“Sixty eight.”
“Thank you.” Elliot said and nodded. George’s eyes narrowed. This Elliot was certainly a strange chap, ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘Any unmarried man with a cat has got to be a little peculiar.’
Elliot said, “Do you live alone?”
“Yes. My wife died two years ago. Kids left years ago.”
“May I come in?”
A pause. “Yes.” George replied and stood back. Elliot walked in slowly and sat down in a chair, placing both arms on the arm rests, finger hooked over the ends. George returned to his seat and switched the TV off.
“I didn’t see my cat that often.” Elliot said. “I work abroad a lot. I never like to bring business home, but I’m afraid in this case I must.”
George nodded, but did not understand.
“In my line of work... It’s not the sort of thing you want to bring home, you understand?”
George nodded, but once again did not understand.
Elliot said- “Do you have any pets?”
“No. I don’t. Never liked ‘em.”
“Dogs are stupid animals. Mean, stupid animals. Cats, on the other hand, are smart. Very smart. They only go to people when they need something from them. They can go away for days on end then return back when they need shelter. Cats don’t need other cats. They only fight if put together. Cats are solitary creatures. Predators. It’s their nature to hunt. If I could live again as any animal it would be a cat. You understand?”
“Yes.” George said.
“My cat was very dear to me, very dear. I got her from an animal sanctuary. Her former owner had tried to kill her, unsuccessfully. A neighbour stopped him and rescued her. The animal sanctuary were going to put her down as she was a vicious creature. She attacked any animal she was put with, even a few people. When I went to find a cat I saw her, Hermione, and there was something. A connection, if you will between us. I was the only person she allowed to touch her. Not because of kindness but I think out of… recognition. Can you believe that?”
“Well… if you say so.” George said.
“They’ll never be another one like her.”
“Look, I’m very, very sorry about what happened I-”
“There’s something I’d like to show you.” Elliot said.
“Yes?”
“But I’m afraid I left it in my apartment. Would you like to come with me please?”
“Look, mister I-”
“It’d mean very much to me. Please.”
George sighed and checked his watch. If he as quick he’d be back in time to watch the news. “Oh, all right.” He stood up. “Where’bouts do you live?”
“Just downstairs.” Elliot replied.
George walked across the room and opened the door. Elliot walked past and out into the hallway. George followed, shut the door and locked it. He turned and headed towards the lift.
“Oh.” Elliot said. “Why don’t we take the stairs since it’s just downstairs?”
George shrugged, “Fine.” He turned left inside and walked down the corridor towards the stairwell and Elliot followed behind.
George reached the stairs, put his hand on the railing and went to go forward. He tripped. He tumbled down twenty five steps and crashed into the wall at the bottom. His nose was broken and blood flowed from it.
Elliot stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at George. He watched his breathing get slower and slower until his chest remained stationary. Elliot bent down and removed the piano wire he’d placed at the top of the stairs before going to see George. He put the wire in his jacket breast pocket and took the stairs up back to his penthouse.
He opened the door, walked in and sat down. He reached underneath a table and pulled out a Yellow Pages. He put the book on his lap and began to look for the nearest animal sanctuary.