Talking Movies

April 23, 2026

It’s World Book Day!

It’s St George’s Day, therefore it is Shakespeare’s birthday, therefore it is World Book Day. (And any tedious people who insist ackshually it’s been moved to March because mumble mumble can expect to eaten by bears like the little boys who mocked the prophet Elisha)

Alfred! Where did you learn to catalogue?! Aurelius is not filed under philosophy, he’s under Bat-philosophy. The man is filthy rich, stoic, and keeps a journal. Good grief, Alfred.

I have been on something of a spree of book-buying of late, after a long pause. Mostly old books. The Collector. Ripley Under Ground. A 1930s Short History of Religions. A 1960s translation of Spanish histories of the conquest of Peru. An Oxford History of Magic. Some of this is research for a writing project. But a lot of it is resurgent intellectual curiosity. Perhaps spurred by my recent discovery that literacy collapsed in the Roman Empire in the 200s, and never recovered thereafter; yet another reason for the decline and fall. Is literacy collapsing now? Yes. Obviously. The New York Times doesn’t know what NATO stands for. The SAT exams had a reading comprehension passage that was 24 words long and had as one of the answers literally the same words in the same order as in the passage.


What is going on? Smartphones. Social media. Collapsing attention spans. The decline of publishing. Terrible reading material. Semi-literacy (as Moore McDowell famously described his students twenty years ago) finally metastasised into actual functional illiteracy. I was writing recently about my editing of a Classic Novels section for the University Observer back in the halcyon days of 2004/5. Dune, Master and Commander, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Right Ho, Jeeves, Gormenghast, The Naked and the Dead, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas – such titles. Such setpieces: Paul Atreides placing his hand in the Gom Jabbar, Gussie Fink-Nottle’s inebriated prizegiving speech at Market Snodsbury Grammar School, Raoul Duke attempting to drop Dr Gonzo off at the very steps of his airplane, the stream of consciousness of a falling whale. Imagine if in secondary school such books were taught. Fun? Never!

To paraphrase GK Chesterton, writers that pen jokes are not taken seriously, even though crafting jokes is far harder than dashing out thoughtless, empty solemnity.

April 22, 2026

A Milestone

Regular readers of the blog will know that, like Charles dating his Oxford days from when he met Sebastian, I think of the blog proper as beginning in September 2009; from whence monthly archives can be found all the way up to April 2026. And yet today is a milestone.

It is 18 years since the staking of this claim in the digital terrain. April 22nd 2008. A mere month after the collapse of Bear Stearns and the intervention of the Federal Reserve to calm the waters. A move that would inexplicably not be repeated for Lehman Brothers in September 2008 leading to the credit crunch. But in Ireland we were already experiencing the quiet implosion of the housing market from its bubble peak, as the soft landing we had been promised did not materialise; because there never had been one before in history. George W Bush was the President, and Barack Obama was trying to push the obdurate Hillary Clinton out of the race to replace him. Bertie Ahern had mere days left to serve as Taoiseach before one implausibility too many about sterling exchange rates spurred his resignation.

What has this got to do with the blog? Everything, and nothing. When the blog started I hadn’t mastered how to insert images, so I simply did without for a while. Which is how, when I backfilled all the posts later, the first entry ended up with a gif that didn’t exist at the time; months before the release of The Dark Knight. At all times, it seems, technology to me appears unbidden as a black monolith, and, after panic, fear, and curiosity, I eventually figure it out. It is darkly comic that after such beginnings the blog now showcases AI generated art. People in 2008 insistently read into The Dark Knight the political context of its time. But context fades, and is forgotten. It can be interesting to reinsert lost context, certainly, but valuable culture must have eternal verities.

Back in 2008 I was engaged in a writing project that could have been derided, par Spaced and especially Paul, as being all references. Now in 2026 I am engaged in an even more ambitious writing project that aims to strip out nearly all references. The imitation of Chekhov, if you will. It wasn’t until 2009 that I finally saw Three Sisters in performance, but I knew Alfred’s dictum in The Dark Knight – “Endure!” – had a Chekhovian ring to it. By 2010 I had officially expanded the remit of the blog because I wanted to write not only theatre reviews as well as film reviews, but also colour pieces, concert reviews, and thinkpieces on music, television, theatre, literature, art, philosophy, and wider culture, including, yes, politics. And now in 2026 the humble blog is legally old enough to vote. Whoa.

I hadn’t realised until last year just how many blogs fell by the wayside since the heyday of the form in the late 2000s. I’ve seen people give perfectly reasonable excuses to pull down the shutters. I’ve had perfectly reasonable excuses to do so. And yet didn’t. Talking Movies Endures.

April 19, 2026

Project Hail Mary

Directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller return after a decade in the wilderness with a new formula: comedy plus soul.

The good ship Hail Mary is sailing across the universe. Its sole living inhabitant is now Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling), who is having tremendous trouble remembering who he is, where he is, and what the hell he’s doing there; not being a pilot, as he keeps reminding the over-eager ship’s computer. We see his backstory unfurl in flashbacks as he first comes into contact with Project Hail Mary, led by the stern Eva Stratt (Sandra Huller). The sun is having a bit of trouble, you see. It’s being eaten slowly but surely by astrophages. But Grace had a theory about life developing without water, which may apply to these curious organisms. In any case he can be useful in training the astronauts (led by Ken Leung) for a suicide mission to Tau Ceti whose sun abides. Or, indeed, completing it.

Project Hail Mary is based on the novel by Andy Weir, author of The Martian. And the screenwriter of that 2015 smash, Drew Goddard, has adapted this too. Where that tale concerned the fate of one man, this concerns the fate of all mankind; resting on the shoulders of one man. (And one Rocky.) The time delay between Earth and the Hail Mary renders communication impossible. Instead we feel a connection because of the flashbacks as Grace’s memories bubble up. There are undoubted shades of Brian, Mike and Ike in Limitless when it comes to Officer Carl (Lionel Boyce) just going with Grace’s madcap experiments. And that dynamic continues in the present, because the world’s new favourite alien is here. James Ortiz, a puppeteer and now an actor, delivers lines as Rocky that have already become staples: “Words of Encouragement!”

Kathleen Kennedy infamously fired Lord & Miller midway thru Solo. As redemption arcs go, producing one of THE films of 2026 is pretty neat.

4/5

April 5, 2026

Any Other Business: Part CX

As the title suggests, so forth.

Skyfall no longer makes sense!

From 2012 onwards I have always enjoyed walking into one particular room of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. Rarely finding the appropriate seat free to sit in, but always being able to stand with a Wright and Gainsborough to my back, and so to mutter “Always makes me feel a little melancholy. Grand old warship being ignominiously hauled away for scrap. The inevitability of time, don’t you think? What do you see? — A bloody big ship. Excuse me.” Except they’ve only gone and moved a bunch of notable paintings about. Klimt might as well be in a hallway for where they’ve put his portrait of a lady, and Turner and Constable are now facing off against each other in a small room, so Gainsborough’s stylish couple and Wright’s astonished audience now look in vain across the room to see Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire’. Oh well, at least it’s still on the twenties. (What do you mean all traces of people have to be removed from the English currency now?!)

Regeneration – 1996

I have been thinking about the 30 year anniversary of the first attempt to revive Doctor Who. I’m sure it was an Easter weekend special, but the internet stubbornly insists it was a Whit weekend special. Back in the monoculture there was still event television. Contrast the BBC’s handwave at Easter this year, especially with their eschewing the Boat Race, to the days where a lurid crime miniseries, like The Scold’s Bridle in 1998, would often be a centrepiece of festive programming, and drag in the most unexpected of viewers – to wit, my mother. The BBC was faffing about with the likes of Crime Traveller, Bugs, and Invasion Earth, each working out an element of Doctor Who, while avoiding the obvious solution to the problem – the grand unified theory of just reviving Doctor Who.

Secret Suite

Last month I had the great good fortune to stumble over a piece of music, Gustav Holst’s Japanese Suite. Written during a sticky patch in composing The Planets, it is a collection of dances for a Japanese dancer that Holst encountered, and it is a delight. By the next day I was already unbidden humming the Marionette Dance to myself at work, and had to stop to check what on earth it was. They are that perfect as melodies. But this was an entirely unknown piece of music to me. It wasn’t something I knew existed, and hoped to get around to some day. This was a piece of music that I had never heard anyone mention, had never seen it referenced anywhere, and had never heard a snatch of any of its tuneful sequences. How? How does a work of such joyful exuberance so totally disappear?

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