MARK O'CONNELL

Writer, Author, Bond Fan

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POLARI – London’s Best Glitterary Salon

November 14, 2013 / / 0 Comments
Host and Mr Polari Paul Burston.

Host and Mr Polari Paul Burston.

November 13th 2013 marked the night the Polari Salon had its annual Polari First Book Prize. Catching Bullets – Memoirs of a Bond Fan was on the shortlist this year so attendance in spesh clothing and clean shoes was a must. And no, I didn’t wear the Octopussy dressing gown or Roger Moore ski-suit despite hinting on Twitter I would (the many open stairs at the Southbank Centre rendered the Octopussy nightgown a no-no for anyone underneath not wanting to cop a peek).

And what a grand night it was, putting – as ever for a Polari gathering – the great and the good better all together to honour all guises of the queer word – spoken, sung, poetry, narrative fiction, non-fiction, stand-up, performance art and speech. And that was just host Paul Burston’s entrance!

Before the Prize winner was announced, Polari took on its more familiar monthly form. The nights are held at London’s Southbank Centre, cost a very fair fiver and represent two hours (plus interval, book and beverage stall) of the best LGBT readers and writers out there. This month’s menu of salonistas included Rosie Garland, Patrick Flanery, Dee Chanelle, Helen Lederer, Dean Atta and Charlotte Mendelson. It is hard and wrong to underline faves, but Patrick Flanery’s prose was fragile and quick-fire, Dean Atta’s stand-up poetry struck a very contemporary and sadly apt chord (“racism is institutionalised thinking“), singer Dee Chanelle gave the Brazilian street dancers a run for their volume-levels next door and Helen Lederer (a comedy hero of mine) was typically self-deprecating all over the podium.

And then to the grand master-plan, the denouement of the night and Polari’s crowning glory – the Polari First Book Prize 2013. Announced in true “Acadamee Award” style by the quietly incisive VG Lee (a new comedy hero of mine), the Societe Generale sponsored trophy went to Mari Hannah and The Murder Wall. A lovely winner clearly in awe of her charity telethon sized and much deserved cheque took to the stage and made winners of us all. Okay, she didn’t at all. Nor should she. It was her moment and she earned it. Us other four shortlistees got to go home with the ‘win’ that Polari and Paul Burston took us under his sterling wing. Not only have I been asked to read at Polari this year but I have seen first-hand the immense value and support mechanism it represents for queer writers. Writing is a lonely practise at the best of times. Paul himself has rightfully remarked how writing needs a reader to complete the process. Polari allows all manner of voices a podium or chair or even sometimes just a Re-Tweet and gives an audience to so many people, including myself. That is worth its weight in gold. The use of words as help and support versus the use of words to hate and incite is still the centuries old dilemma of language. Even now the use of phrases like “dyke” or “queer” is over-worried by the over-worriers, when it is up to gay individuals to adopt it into their parlance and out of the box marked “abuse”. Included in the audience was Nigerian activist and TV host Funmi Iyanda and out-gay Nigerian Bisi Alimi (now a welcome UK resident having had to flee his home country and family). The pair have their own [and sadly very] valid LGBT story to tell and THIS is where Polari is more than a few dykes and queers supping Pinot from plastic glasses in the name of literature (not that Burston would allow that complacency to sink in – hence his ever changing rota of readers and performers).

Polari and the work and efforts of its alumni, audience regulars (the life and pulse of each monthly gathering), venue owners and just those that pass the word on is one of the greatest LGBT assets in London and indeed the UK (where Polari is stretching its wings north – see here).

Furthermore, Paul and his team of judges give their time and efforts to reading the longlist and shortlisted titles and for my tale of a 1980s Bond fan to even get dropped on the “to read” pile is the stuff of privilege.

The Polari First Book Prize 2013 judges this year:

Paul Burston (Chair of Judges) – author, journalist and host of Polari.

Bidisha – writer, critic and broadcaster

Suzi Feay – literary critic

Rachel Holmes – author and former Head of Literature at the Southbank Centre

VG Lee – author and comedian

Joe Storey-Scott – books buyer

 

The Polari First Book Prize 2013 shortlist:

The Murder Wall by Mari Hannah (Pan Macmillan)

Tony Hogan Bought Me An Icecream Float Before He Stole My Ma by Kerry Hudson (Chatto & Windus)

The Sitar by Rebecca Idris (self-published ebook)

Catching Bullets – Memoirs of a Bond Fan by Mark O’Connell (Splendid Books)

The Tale of Raw Head & Bloody Bones by Jack Wolf (Chatto & Windus)

 

For more on Polari and why you should get along, click here.

 

 

Catching ROGER

October 30, 2013 / / 0 Comments

CATCHING ROGER

Whoever said never meet your heroes clearly never had mine as theirs. For thirty years my cinematic hero, sartorial inspiration and now literary muse was and continues to be Sir Roger Moore.

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It was June 1983 when my dad took a reluctant and seven year old younger version of myself to the Guildford Odeon to see Roger Moore’s sixth Bond opus, Octopussy. It was a simple outing that put a 007 shaped stamp on my life and was the beginnings of realising the stamp James Bond had already had on the O’Connell family. Key to that was Roger Moore. Being a 1980s kid, he was my Bond. Being a 1980s cinema kid, he was crucial. Numerous posters and images flanked my walls like Broccoli frescoes and an autographed still for my ninth birthday is still the best birthday present in the world ever.

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Flash-forward thirty years and not only have I written a comedy memoir about literally growing up with Bond, Catching Bullets – Memoirs of a Bond Fan (Splendid Books), but Sir Roger is appearing in his current tour An Evening With Roger Moore at a local Surrey venue, G-Live (or the Moore-quip friendly G-Spot for those who can never quite find their way round Guildford’s notoriously shocking one-way system). Organised and marshalled onstage by Roger’s manager and biographer Gareth Owen, the Autumn 2013 show is a relaxed but complete look at Roger’s career from his early days at RADA (with fellow classmates including Bond alumni Lois Maxwell) via the touchstones of The Saint, The Persuaders, The Sea Wolves, that small matter of seven 007 movies to his more recent and very sterling work for UNICEF and taking on the charity baton handed to him by friend Audrey Hepburn.

And just as a 007 who sported the best ski-wear known to man should be, Moore is a master of going off piste – taking the audience and himself along reminiscences and sharply recalled anecdotes with cute timing and that self-mocking veneer that has served him well over the years. If only all of us could even hope to be so sharply minded at 86 years young. I had never seen Moore more lucid, relaxed, quick to quip and totally poised with all that trademark saintly persuasion.

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It was not wholly random and the people who I need to thank already have been, but as the highly recommendable show came to a close I was faced with the prospect of finally meeting the man himself. Should I? Maybe I shouldn’t. The man might want to quite fairly shoot off home and crack open a glass of something bubbly, no? Guildford’s fine but it is no Monaco (despite Roger remembering with mocking fondness filming an AA commercial decades there before as a young actor). Suddenly I was overcome with a paranoia – “I should leave best alone, the journey of Catching Bullets has been so wonderful and well received and an L.A. encounter with my Bond Girl was such a divine day, don’t push your luck and spoil it now O’Connell!”. But if I didn’t try I would – to badly paraphrase the film Moore circles as his finest work – become the man who haunted himself.

Cut to the back car-park of G-Live and my seven year old Bond fan self has already led my adult brain down into a Guildford car park before the auditorium had barely got to its feet amidst well deserved cheer. A chauffeured car is naturally waiting for Mr Moore as is someone’s vintage Volvo from Roger’s The Saint days, and of course some loyal fans wrapped up against the autumn cold. A wink and a nod later and my partner, our friend Pat and I are coming in out the cold towards Mr Moore’s dressing room and a friendly hive of post-show backstage activity. I don’t know if the tricky Bond mistress that we all call ‘life’ meant to add such poetry to but it suddenly hits me how right now Roger Moore and I are merely yards away from the Guildford Odeon where my Bond fan journey commenced with Octopussy. Furthermore – and due to a bout of parental house-sitting – I write this piece alongside the very childhood bedroom that was a veritable shrine to our man James, 007, Octopussy, Maud Adams and all manner of Bond-foolery. Like those little white dots mark each and every Bond movie, events do sometimes have a very curious habit of going full circle. And before I knew it I was sat in Roger’s gleaming white dressing room with the man himself looking at me with the same piercing blue eyes that fought Zorin, Drax, Scaramanga, Stromberg, Nick Nack and Jaws with the same boyish grin that bedded Solitaire, Mary Goodnight, Anya Amasova and of course both our shared favourite 007 lady, Octopussy.

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Whilst the details shall remain personal (in part due to me being caught by the utter surrealism of it all and hence forgetting what the hell happened), Roger soon beckoned me into his Santa’s Grotto of suavity to sit down with my cardigan-friendly eye already on his fine knitwear and wishing I had sported mine that night. We discussed Bond, Catching Bullets and my grandfather who worked with Cubby Broccoli and who Roger would have known. I also coyly mentioned the personal symmetry of finally meeting Mr Moore a few metres from where I had seen him in my first Bond at the cinema. He wondered, “which one?”. I nervously replied, “the Odeon“.

He then kindly asked again, “no, which film…?” to which I duly responded with Octopussy-mentioning pride and embarrassment. Roger then kindly said he wants to read Catching Bullets. I jokingly hinted of course he didn’t have to at which moment those firm blue eyes suavely clarified, “oh no, I will”.

Forever a gent. Forever Bond. Forever Moore.

 

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An Evening with Roger Moore continues round the UK.

Catching Bullets – Memoirs of a Bond Fan is available now.

From 1963… With Love

October 9, 2013 / / 0 Comments

“He seems fit enough. Have him report to me in Istanbul in 24 hours…”

Rosa Klebb, From Russia With Love, 1963

10th October 2013 marks the fiftieth anniversary of Eon Productions From Russia With Love. A favourite of both CATCHING BULLETS and even John F Kennedy (who boosted sales by declaring it was his favourite book) this was the first Bond film with a pre-title sequence, the first overture of a title sequence within the film itself, the first Bond film to go to Europe, the first full score by John Barry and the first film to prove that James Bond can indeed return. It is a clear favourite with the Bond producers Eon Productions and always a film that those responsible came back to when discussing how they got it right.

“I’m not mad about his tailor, are you?”

Read more about From Russia With Love in CATCHING BULLETS.

From Russia With Love @ 50 / (c) Mark O'Connell / 2013

 

 

CATCHING BULLETS is shortlisted for the POLARI FIRST BOOK PRIZE 2013!

September 20, 2013 / / 0 Comments

QUAD SHEET - POLARI SHORTLISTING (1)Splendid Books and I are more than proud to announce that CATCHING BULLETS – MEMOIRS OF A BOND FAN has been shortlisted for the POLARI FIRST BOOK PRIZE 2013.

Polari is a monthly literary salon held (more often than not) at London’s Southbank Centre. Masterminded by author/writer Paul Burston, it is a queer / LGBT showcase of a brilliant rainbow-hued spectrum of writing, poetry, fiction, non-fiction, performance, works-in-progress, theatre and song.

Previous readers have included Jonathan Harvey, Celia Imrie, Damian Barr, Jake Arnott, Neil Bartlett, Rikki Beadle-Blair, Andy Bell, Sophia Blackwell, DJ Connell, Maureen Duffy, Stella Duffy, Fenella Fielding, Christopher Fowler, Patrick Gale, David Hoyle, VG Lee, David McAlmont, John McCullough, Will Self and many more. Oh, and of course yours truly (January 2013).

The POLARI FIRST BOOK PRIZE is an annual award to honour the best in LGBT writing. CATCHING BULLETS and myself never once imagined we would be rubbing shoulders with a range of very skilled books so are doubly chuffed to find ourselves on the final shortlist. The winner is announced on November 13th 2013 at the Purcell Room, Southbank Centre.

POLARI First Book Prize

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of “the World’s Best Gay & Lesbian Hotspots” for 2013! – ArtInfo.

“Lively, funny and inspiring – a gay-themed salon of interest to anyone remotely interested in literature, whatever their sexual bent. Paul Burston’s achievement in consistently bringing together writers and performers who will stimulate and inspire is remarkable” – Patrick Gale

“Always fun, always thought-provoking – a guaranteed good night out” – Sarah Waters, Tipping The Velvet.

“London’s most theatrical salon” – The New York Times

“London’s peerless gay literary salon” – The Independent on Sunday

 

For more details about past, present and future Polari nights then head over to the website. The evenings are a great and relaxed showcase of good writing, creativity, thought and ideas. A bar and book store is always at hand as are great views of London at night, whatever time of year. Though be warned – Polari often sells out quick so get in early.

 

@Mark0Connell

@PolariSalon

@PolariPrize

CATCHING BULLETS nominated for the 2013 POLARI First Book Prize!

July 31, 2013 / / 0 Comments

CATCHING BULLETS catches a POLARI First Book Prize nomination!

Exciting news! CATCHING BULLETS – MEMOIRS OF A BOND FAN has been nominated for the illustrious POLARI First Book Prize 2013! This is a fine honour indeed and I am most flattered, shaken and stirred!

Splendid Books and myself would like to extend a big thanks to Paul Burston and the POLARI First Book Prize judging team. I am now going to paint myself in gold paint and have a lie down to celebrate….

POLARI First Book Prize

Goldfingers crossed for the prize announcement in September 2013.

www.polariliterarysalon.co.uk
www.splendidbooks.co.uk

 

 

PLAY IT AGAIN SAM – Mendes returning for ‘Bond 24’

July 12, 2013 / / 0 Comments

Sam Mendes and Barbara BroccoliSam Mendes returning to the Bond fold is great news. Not because Skyfall was the most successful Bond movie, the most successful British movie ever, won two Oscars and a few high profile gongs. It is not even because it was the first Bond movie for a while to become a cultural event, a film whose momentum and qualities both shook and stirred the public’s consciousness and stoked the anticipation for what James does next in a way possibly not seen since the 1960s. No, Sam Mendes returning to direct Bond 24 is great news as the Bond series is in a new golden age of confidence and impetus. With 2012’s fiftieth anniversary bench-marker Skyfall pulling all sorts of clever doves out of Baron Samedi’s top hat, the pressure is naturally there for all involved to find a new hat to pull some tricks from.

Can lightning be trapped in an empty Bollinger bottle twice? Of course it can. 007 producers Eon Productions have a whole cellar full of lightning bottles. But I doubt Bond 24 will be Skyfall Too – Back to the Chapel. It will no doubt take its predecessor’s baton and sprint with it like a gym-fit Daniel Craig. Yet it will be a totally different kettle of SPECTRE piranhas. Heck, there may even be some SPECTRE piranhas in there. And a submersible Prius. With Union Jack airbags. Maybe not.

Yet it won’t retread. We are in era of Bond directors with firm creative signatures of their own. Mendes’ tends towards films exploring what circumstances and the wider facets of society does to people. Respectively American Beauty, Road To Perdition, Revolutionary Road and Skyfall are a turn of the century classic, an ode to gangsterdom, a bitter stab at suburban nirvana and a home-soil vendetta. They are Sam Mendes looking at what wider circumstances, societal structures and defence mechanisms do to the common man. Javier Bardem’s Raoul Silva (Skyfall) is no different to Kevin Spacey’s Lester Burnham (American Beauty). Both have been chewed up and spat out by life. And both allow Mendes to have fun with how they stick up two fingers to the world. Likewise Jake Gyllenhaal in Jarhead and Away We Go’s Maya Rudolph and John Krasinski are striving to not let the same happen to them. There are lot of roads to perdition in Sam Mendes work. There is no reason to question why a new facet of Bond will not be explored, another internal scar creating external damage laid bare. That is the world of Fleming. And that is the DNA of Bond onscreen.

But along Mendes’ story paths there is a playfulness and wit. Lester Burnham’s breakdown is a lush descent into suburban anarchy and Away We Go is a fun road movie peppered with non-centric eccentrics. Mendes is currently executive producing Penny Dreadful under the auspices of his own creative company Neal Street Productions (Call The Midwife and The Hollow Crown – which of course saw Skyfall’s Ben Wishaw recently scoop the Best Actor BAFTA). Written by Skyfall and Bond 24’s John Logan, Penny Dreadful is a London Victorian re-imagining of the origins of classic horror creations such as Dracula and Frankenstein. A co-production with Showtime, the series is due to bite TV screens in 2014. This sort of baroque villainy has already shown its own teeth (literally) in Skyfall and could well flick a different villainous cape in Bond 24. With John Logan in the writing seat alongside Mendes, the end result of their 2012 ‘act one’ was a carefully arched Bond film marked by rich exchanges pushing the story forward through dialogue, character wit and drives (Bond and Severine, Bond and Silva, Bond and M, Bond and Q, Bond and Kincade, Bond and Moneypenny). The creative impulse to let the characters steer the story was a welcome one and wholly succeeded. Expect more of the same come the Fall of 2015. Skyfall ended with the orphan James Bond presented with a new family. Ben Wishaw’s Q is suggesting he will be back, as might Naomie Harris as Moneypenny and Ralph Fiennes as the new M. But what about the bureaucratic Clair Dowar MP (Helen McCrory – whose real life husband and possible ‘next Bond’ candidate Damian Lewis is currently shooting Eon’s new co-production, The Silent Storm) and Rory Kinnear’s much-liked ally Tanner? And of course we may well see more familiar keynotes of Bond re-dressed for 2015.

Mendes clearly relished his time working with Eon Productions, Barbara Broccoli and Michael G Wilson. It is a team-led ‘family’ operation with working relationships and continuity much valued linchpins. Throughout the 1980s, director John Glen helmed all five successive Bond movies with great results, creating new fans in new generations and blasting the lazy detractors of that era’s output with aplomb (see this writer’s Catching Bullets – Memoirs of a Bond Fan). Sam Mendes will have already done the same. As part of a maybe three-act regeneration of Bond, Skyfall certainly has re-pointed the character for its guardians and its audiences new and old. The twenty-second Bond film relished the heritage of 007. My hunch is that Bond 24 will move forward from that. Or aside. The history of the films will not be sidelined. The much touted ‘formula’ of Bond is entwined with the heritage of the character, the films and those that produce them. Yet, Mendes will want to produce a brand new movie, a brand new take and a brand new project. He has never directed a sequel to any of his cinematic work (whose narratives admittedly do not leave much room for ‘what happened next?’). We all have our wish lists and suggestions (mine would be Barcelona, Washington, a bit of skiing and a Daft Punk theme tune). However, it is worth noting the curious skill of Skyfall was how it packed in wholly familiar turf for the Bond series – London, the Far East and Istanbul – yet dressed it most wisely. Mendes is not about reinventing the wheel, but how the spokes work. We are still in a time of relative studio poverty (Skyfall had to allegedly hem in its budget and the results worked). Bond 24 will no doubt have to rein itself in too – as best as a multi million pound movie can. But having financial and physical restrictions often aides creativity. The Bond series’ production history has always proved that.

For any director or writer to come into that Bond world is no doubt a daunting task. Next time round Mendes is no longer the new boy at school. He is head boy – a proven newcomer with a few trophies (if that matters alongside such global box office stamina) gleaming in the Eon cabinet. But the team at Bond HQ are not wholly looking to emulate Skyfall. They are looking to emulate the decisions, the discussions, the aptitude and perceptions Mendes brought to the table. Of course the dollars and the studios that gave and then counted them are wanting more of the same. That is simple business sense. But film-making – even on the scale of a Bond – thrives on creative relationships and continuity. It is about both project and product for Eon.

The Sony PR elves were forever telling us how Mendes noted his own Bond fandom launched when he saw 1973’s Live and Let Die. There are echoes of that film in Skyfall (the arched villainy, the deathly opening titles, the throwaway dead girls, the drama often playing out on familiar streets and pavements and even the shared double-decker London buses…maybe). The question now is – what Bond film did Sam like next? My money’s on a direct sequel to Octopussy. That barge had to pull in somewhere?!*

(*joking)

Mark O’Connell is the author of Catching Bullets – Memoirs of a Bond Fan (Prelude by Barbara Broccoli). www.splendidbooks.co.uk

FLEMING – a first look at Sky Atlantic’s new drama series

July 1, 2013 / / 0 Comments

PLAYBOY.
GAMBLER.
SPY.

FLEMING (c) Sky Atlantic / Ecosse Films / BBC America

Sky Atlantic and Ecosse Films / BBC America have revealed an early look at their new 2014 series, Fleming.

Filmed in the UK and Budapest, the mini-series is set during the Second World War when Ian Lancaster Fleming (Dominic Copper) was heavily involved in mounting special operations against the Nazis and others.

Mat Whitecross (The Road to Guantanamo) is directing from a script by John Brownlow and Don Macpherson (based on John Pearson’s work on the life of Fleming). Laura Pulvey (Fleming’s wife Ann), Annabelle Wallis (Muriel Wright), Rupert Evans (Fleming’s brother Peter) Samuel West (Admiral John Godfrey), Anna Chancellor (Lieutenant Monday) and Lesley Manville (Fleming’s mother Evelyn) co-star.

The four part mini-series will air on Sky Atlantic later in early 2014.

Check out the new teaser trailer, Fleming.

 

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“When you were young and your heart was an open book…”

June 27, 2013 / / 0 Comments

LIVE AND LET DIE @40 (c) Mark O'Connell

Eon Productions Live and Let Die celebrates its fortieth anniversary this week (it opened in the States on June 27th 1973, and a week or so later in the UK). It has been a linchpin of the series and the man on the street’s affection for James Bond ever since. It is also director Sam Mendes stated favourite 007 entry, whose influence is very evident in 2012’s Skyfall.

For more thoughts on Live and Let Die and all the Bond movies, check out Catching Bullets – Memoirs of a Bond Fan.

I’M SO EXCITED! (LOS AMANTES PASAJEROS)

May 1, 2013 / / 0 Comments

ISE! Portrait Poster“Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going be a bumpy night”

(All About Eve, 1950)

 

 

 

 

 

 

With King of the Tangent himself Pedro Almodóvar on duty as chief flight recorder, pilot, trolley dolly and navigator, I’m So Excited! is a boisterous stopover of a film. Less long-haul than the melodramatic Volver, clever Live Flesh or the masterly All About My Mother, Almodóvar’s nineteenth feature is a short-haul hen-night of a movie, as quick to get into as it takes to blow up one of those canary yellow safety vests.

Welcome to Peninsula Airlines Flight 2549. You will be cruising at an altitude of 32,000 feet. Literally. And if nothing excites you on the duty-free cart, there will be enough in-flight entertainment and emergency grandstanding to keep children of all ages (and predilections) entertained.

This plane is like a sunlit backroom – floating on clouds of mescaline, passion and resignation. Neither bitter or moral, this is Almodóvar as chief pilot of a Mile [very] High Club. Never mind the fuel the plane suddenly has to burn off before an emergency landing. Almodóvar’s own script is more concerned in his motley passengers jettisoning absurd amounts of tequila, vodka and Valencia cocktails. Pilots, co-pilots, stewards, ground staff – everyone’s necking a quick shot to take the edge off. Before having another. An Easy Jet flight to Sitges packs less booze than this. Yet, as such happy-hour excesses soon replace characters inhibitions with much needed action (Lola Dueñas’s virginity status is quite cheekily – and anonymously – downsized at 30,000 feet), the weight of everyone’s emotional ballast nearly drags the flight into the sea. A mostly empty business class section and a disgraced banker speaks volumes about Spain and Europe’s economy – with the stricken Peninsula 2549 flight struggling to find an airport that is manned, let alone not cash strapped. But that is as political as Pedro gets. His world is one where men are already in marriages to each other (be it sexual, spiritual or actual), mistresses are afforded perceptive back stories and empty control towers are manned by a husband and wife and their packed lunch.

Just as the theatrical Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988) pitches itself in a farce-like apartment, its nearest sibling I’m So Excited! relishes the proscenium confines of this Peninsula flight – affording Pedro his trademark backstage wranglings, curtain twitching, character hierarchies and story-centric phone-calls. It is certainly Almodóvar’s simplest effort for a while, jettisoning the masterful twists of Live Flesh and The Flowers of My Secret for an unabashed pantomime of an in-flight movie that unfurls as if Airplane had a quick knee-trembler in the disabled toilets with Carry on Emmanuelle and Shortbus was the result.

Gone for now are the masculine pulses and of The Skin I Live In and Broken Embraces. Here they are replaced for the mescaline ones of a cabin-fevered cabin-crew led by self-destructive, yet puppy-eyed steward Javier Cámara (Talk To Her, Bad Education) and Pedro newcomers Raúl Arévalo (granted a Pedro tache on his first outing) and portly Carlos Areces. If this work-weary triumvirate steal the movie, then it is the scene-chomping Areces who gets the ‘Peninsula Employee of the Month’ award with his dour queen Fajardo forever hand-fanning his magnificent cow-lick fringe amidst his random urges to pray into a brassy pop-up altar.

As Almodóvar’s gayest film for quite a while, there is very little room in the aisle for any straight manoeuvring. Like most of Almodóvar’s efforts, even the straight women behave like gay men. And possibly vice versa. Not that every persuasion doesn’t get a chance to “check in” on this voyage. Everyone is at it. From the hot straight couple fresh off a three day wedding bender (and a curious affliction the sexy groom is milking to the hilt) to a bi-curious co-pilot, a horny security officer and a veteran soap actor juggling a suicidal ex and a shrewd new squeeze via misplaced cell phones. So far, so very Almodóvar.

With crew and passengers pitched as types culled straight from 1970’s Airport, Almodóvar has early fun churning out the disaster movie character tropes (the disillusioned suit, the veteran fun-time girl, the cabin crews in mid-affair, the family man pilot’s bit on the side, a concerned psychic and a potential killer). Yet, as much as Almodóvar lets the film party with this entertaining bunch, he still takes the time to surprise, to charm and regret. Just as Airport 1975 had the real Norma Desmond in the guest-starring likes of Gloria Swanson, I’m So Excited! gets its own Norma in the guise of the fabulous Cecilia Roth (All About My Mother) as society dominatrix and potential government-toppler Norma Boss. This Anna Wintour fringed ice-maiden is the most familiar from Pedro’s oeuvre. We are told this is a character that – like the director himself – emerged onto the scene in the late 1980s, ruffled the establishment’s feathers and subsequently hit her stride in her 50s.

One of the utter joys of an Almodóvar film is how he lets you go ahead of his story and characters, allowing the audience to curve off with their absurd notions and plot predictions. You kick yourself for thinking that wildly or crudely. But then suddenly Pedro takes you by the hand and ‘goes there’ for you with a day-glo aplomb that is forever liberating and – most vitally – honest. The director’s CV is on show throughout. From key Pedro icons Penelope Cruz (Volver, Broken Embraces, Live Flesh) and Antonio Banderas (Matador, Laws of Desire, The Skin I Live In) playing consequential ground crew to the point of almost giggling on-screen at the fun of it all to the lies men tell of Laws of Desire, the drug dependencies of What Have I Done To Deserve This and Norma Boss’s sado-masochistic day job echoing Tie Me Up Tie Me Down.

Like a trashy airport novel, I’m So Excited! is a wondrous, crazy holiday distraction. Never meant to outstay its welcome, it is a rude jaunt farcing about its tight running time. Pedro purists might want this frothy baggage reclaimed immediately, but he still carefully peels back the motifs of character like the cling-wrap on a Stansted Airport beef casserole. This is a deliberate inflight meal of a movie – easy to get into, tastes better than it looks and will perfectly suffice until you touch down. As a comedy it is possibly more successful than Women On The Verge of a Nervous Breakdown – which now pales when compared to what Almodóvar did next. He is now a genre all of his own, one that has re-pointed people’s opinions and views on Spanish cinema and culture. As fun goes and the summer blockbusters start circling the skies, I’m So Excited! deftly proves Pedro Almodóvar can still drop a big block of blue toilet ice onto his rivals. Just when does this “seatbelt” sign disappear?

 

 

With thanks to Pathe UK for the screening.

 

I’m So Excited! lands at UK cinemas from May 3rd 2013.

 

SAW MISGIVINGS

April 24, 2013 / / 0 Comments

SAW MISGIVINGS
Written by Mark O’Connell
Directed by David Lilley
Starring Vicky Album & Steve McNeil

Being the perfect housewife can kill…

“A bizarre, yet funny as hell mix of twisted humor….Seriously, this thing’s full of funny (the beer opening gag = genius) and not a one note joke…Damn fine acting, damn fine filmmaking, damn fun time.” – AIN’T IT COOL NEWS

SAW MISGIVINGS has featured very successfully at the LUND INTERNATIONAL FANTASTIC FILM FESTIVAL 2012 (Nominated – Méliès d’argent), the Three Corpse Circus Film Festival 2012 (USA), SAN SEBASTIAN HORROR & FANTASY FILM FESTIVAL 2012, COFILMIC 2012 (Nominated : Best Comedy Short), LEEDS INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL (Nominated – Méliès d’argent), SCREEN STOCKPORT FESTIVAL 2012 (Special Mention), THREE CORPSE CIRCUS FILM FESTIVAL, LONDON SHORT FILM FESTIVAL 2013, the LONDON COMEDY FILM FESTIVAL 2013, the SKEPTO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL, the DETMOLD INTERNATIONAL SHORT FILM FESTIVAL 2013 and more.

“A ‘cute’ piece (if cute even sounds appropriate) … the perfect spoof short film for horror audiences. You’ll want to seek this out and take 6 minutes out of your day to enjoy the fun!” – HORRORNEWS.NET

“…a rock solid and humorous tribute to the Saw franchise, successfully lampooning the iconic traps as well as the kinetic style found in the series. All of the jokes perfectly hit their mark” – HORRORMOVIES.CA

SAW MISGIVINGS Poster

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