Welcome To New Asgard!
“Move aside, there, Lebowski!” – Tony Stark.
Thor: “Do you know what is coursing through my veins right now?”
James Rhodes: “Cheez Whiz?”
This is the end, beautiful friend…
In a movie that is the culmination of eleven years and over twenty movies, thus transcending the rules and expectations of the superhero movie genre, where the whole objective is to conclude all super-business in a convincing and compelling closure, AND fire decisive repulsor-rayblasts to your mind, heart and – hoo-boy! – tear ducts, where do we begin?!
Tony Stark is marooned in space with the daughter of the fiend who fatally slew him; where do the original Avengers – survivors of the Snaptastrophe – go from here?
To undo the Mad Titan’s wrongdoings, and try and restore some sorta semblance of order back to the universe, before you can say: “TREE! Help me find the handle!” they have constructed a “machine” that can transport what’s left of the cast into their respective subplots…
And to that end, as expected, the following three hours deliver on so many winning levels in the best way possible.
The only way.
The MARVEL way! 🙂
PHOOEY to those critics who dared slate this gargantuan cinematic swansong as “preposterous”(!)
Look, this is a comicbook movie fer cake’s sake, where fans don’t bat an eyelid at such Stark Raving Hazelnuts stuff as a talking raccoon, a wizard’s cloak that has a mind of its own and a giant Peter Dinklage.
One can appreciate how (the best of) these MCU movies have been created by comicbook buffs who not only know how crazy, clever and cosmic these stories can be, but understand how they work. Essentially, Avengers: Endgame has been (ahem) assembled in such a meticulous, but oh so MARVELous way that it looks – and works – like a remastered Greatest Hits compilation, with a handful of iconic scenes from the last eleven years – including familiar faces we thought we’d never see again! – lovingly spliced in to add an always-welcome tinge of nostalgia to that unfailingly spectacular eleven-year mix of action, drama and humour.
Moreover, this time, we are presented with an unprecedented, but irresistibly intriguing premise in a superhero movie:
failure, and how (what’s left of) the team deal with that.
Just when you think the First Act would dissolve into something too morose to handle, and drag a tad, once again – thankfully! – writers Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely are at the top of their (end)game, providing one of the best scripts of the year (and not to mention, as reliable as ever, a hefty wodge of rad quotable lines! 😉 )
The depleted number of protagonists means that Avengers: Endgame offers closer attention to character study, and even sends some of their story-arcs down paths that were (dare we say it!) hitherto undreamt of. One of them in particular highly uncharacteristically crawls into a bottle (Clue: it’s NOT Ant-Man).
At the end of the day, it’s so cool to discover that – like your fav cake-scoffing blogger 😉 – Clint is just as badass with a blade as he is with a bow.
Oh, and speaking of cool, that much-anticipated Stan Lee cameo is – how we remember The Man – real classy!
At three hours and one minute, this is the longest MCU instalment; kudos to its directors: Anthony and Joe Russo for not letting the pace slip at all, not once, during these epic proceedings. Against all odds, Avengers: Endgame manages to be a worthy and thoroughly enjoyable successor to Avengers: Infinity War.
However, once that sheer exhilaration settles down and those critical faculties kick in, a few niggles pop up preventing me from bestowing it the full quota of five perfectly balanced stars.
The biggest drawback here happens to be the biggest character: despite having a few cool scenes, Thanos is inevitably relegated to formulaic antagonist.
When Captain Larson shows up at Avengers HQ, nestling the Benatar on their front lawn, there are no gawps or gasps from Steve and co. Obviously, this universe is positively heaving with enhanced individuals of one sort or another, so “New Girl” is allowed to hang around the base, no questions asked, until the moment
the script has no further need for her she has to skedaddle to some distant planet to… do something for no discernible reason… She eventually returns, making a brief, but blistering impact during the Final Act which, incidentally, looks far too cluttered and chaotic. All in all, Captain Marvel’s appearance in this movie was not substantial or integral enough to have warranted her own lousy movie almost two months ago.
Personally, last year’s masterpiece – with its towering (and harrowing) central performance, a truly Mighty Marvel Team-Up in the unexpected groovy forms of Thor and Rocket, moon-throwing and THAT unforgettable ending – seared a more indelible mark on my memory, but this is still an incredibly engrossing piece of work, and provides a fitting finale to this frenetic franchise.
When The BIG Bradscribe MCU Countdown is due to be revised shortly, Avengers: Endgame should be riding high in the Top 10. It deserves to snap out of existence all box office records; after only three days, it’s officially become the Highest Grossing Movie Of All Time.
The enormous, exciting, and – oh yes – emotional effects have proved remarkable, and will surely never end – this really feels like the blockbuster to end all blockbusters.
Therefore, yours truly takes this opportunity to announce The End of my forty years of cinema-going. Let’s face it: during the next ten – perhaps twenty – years, methinks it probably unlikely that we will ever experience a movie, bigger, bolder or better than this…
At the very least, watching Avengers: Endgame is infinitely preferable to being stuck in a flying doughnut billions of miles from Earth with no backup…
“I like this one.”
Some people in this galaxy DON’T dig Marvel movies. 0_0
But not us…
Before unleashing my Review next week, this chattering animal will be posting – midweek – a few thoughts on the soon-to-be-revealed Avengers: Endgame, so hope you can join me for that!
Ha ha! We all wondered how we would manage to wait a whole year to find out how this monumental story arc could come to a satisfying MARVELous denouement – now we are only DAYS away.
So this is it? It’s all been leading to this…
Imagine my nightmare. If you can…
Stuck in a packed cinema, trying to keep awake during the latest MCU instalment. Amidst a rather bland action scene – in space – one of the most annoying pop songs in living memory – by that eternally-detestable combo: No Doubt, no less! – starts to play.
Yes, it did make my one good eye roll.
No, it did NOT put a smile on my face…
You know, Bradman is NOT one to skedaddle from a battle, but in this case, the urge to split almost consumed me.
Moreover, to compound the no-good-niggles tormenting my throbbing bonce, the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi throttled my mind:
“I’m getting too old for this sort of shit…”
‘0 _ 0’
After the jaw-dropping brilliance that was Avengers: Infinity War it seemed pointless going into Captain Marvel with any expectations. Nevertheless, confidence that we would get another top quality comicbook movie package remained fairly high.
The plot is your basic “origins” tale: Nick “Two-Eyes” Fury teams up with The Cat From Outer Space and they set out on a quest to find the memory of The Woman Who Fell To Earth, with the Jude Law and the Kree Order in hot pursuit.
Okey-dokey, methinks, so far, so groovy.
Before you can say: “Higher, further, faster, baby!” it descends into a dismal display of bland performances, incoherent narrative and some of the most lame and lacklustre lines heard in a long while…
And don’t get me started about the Skrulls: those nefarious shapeshifting aliens who look here like Trekkie cosplayers.
Quite naff Trekkie cosplayers…
Rather than the despicable race as depicted in the comics, the BIG twist here is that they are the repressed refugees of the galaxy. And we’re supposed to empathise with them? Don’t you know what they say? “Keep your friends close, your Skrulls closer.” DON’T listen to them, Carol – IT’S A TRAP…
And just why on C-53 is Ben Mendelsohn trying to do an Andy Serkis impersonation…?!
It comes as absolutely no surprise to learn that Roy Thomas – legendary Marvel writer who co-created Carol Danvers in 1968 – felt less than impressed with this movie.
“Actually, the one thing I really hated in the film was turning the Skrulls into a peace-loving race, with the Kree as the heavies.” he said in a recent interview. “As far as I am concerned, as the principal conceptualizer of the Kree/Skrull War, (and I suspect Stan Lee and Jack Kirby would agree with me) the Skrulls and the Kree are each as bad as each other, as they say. Having the Skrulls all mushy and family-friendly at the end left a bad taste in my mouth…”
The only aspect to please him was thus: “Still, Yon-Rogg turned out to be appropriately vile, and that’s all well and good.”
What about those 12-year old girls this film so desperately tried to impress and inspire? Incidentally, the number of that demographic in the audience at my screening could be counted on the “fingers” of MY gauntlet. And they looked bored to tears…
Wire sued Elastica for stealing their riff from Three Girl Rhumba. Nirvana lifted the bass-line from Killing Joke’s Eightites, which in turn “borrowed” from The Damned’s Life Goes On, and – hey! – here’s me slouching (nay, yawning!) in the middle of the latest MCU movie with my concentration drifting into such mundane musical matters, particularly wondering which alternative Kurt Cobain song would have sufficed instead, if at all…!
Is it any wonder that the only scene to actually move me happened to be the heartfelt tribute to Stan Lee over the Marvel logo? And the only cool scene was, of course, his cameo. He’s reading the script to Mallrats (also released in 1995), in which you can find the most extensive cameo of his illustrious acting career.
Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck have never made a comicbook movie before and, quite clearly, it shows. The montage of flashbacks from Carol’s early life are so fragmentary and ever-so-minimally informative (not helped by Skrull scientists jabbering over each clip!) that they look confusing, almost to the point of annoyance.
Imagine what a dramatic improvement we would have if allowed to see that key moment in the comics in which teenage Carol rebels against her overbearing Dad and walks out.
There should be a terrific performance by Lashana Lynch, as Carol’s best pal: Maria Rambeau, but, there again, the shoddy script deprives Maria’s role the chance to really shine. Moreover, the 1st Act needed a bonding moment between them – it would have instilled the emotional resonance this movie so sorely lacked.
The fact that three writers were involved proves yet again how:
The more names involved in concocting a major studio movie script = the more incoherent that script becomes.
Again, is this really the MCU we are dealing with here…?!
“Packed with action! Humour! And visual thrills!! With an origin story that makes effective use of the franchise’s signature formula!”
Uff, well, that’s a loada’ cobblers…
Allow me to suggest (mercifully briefly!) why this movie is regarded as “good, but not great.”
Apart from the obvious observation that Larson lacks charisma, consider how Captain Marvel is supposed to be an origins story. Despite countless versions of this theme – some produced, remarkably well, within the MCU itself over this past decade! – the only spectacular revelation to be had here is the way it fails in this regard.
Bafflingly, the core of this movie is mysteriously bereft of a hero(ine)’s journey, so no revelation, atonement, redemption, or moral/ethical self-discovery.
Wow, she had no misdeeds and failings to rectify; no life-changing lessons to learn; no knowledge to attain; no challenges to overcome; therefore, we feel no curiosity or compulsion to follow what happens to her. Subjected to the full blast of the Kree core engine does not count as a “personal transformation.”
Ultimately, this is all a meaningless spectacle.
Always appreciated the origins story of Marvel’s other Cap: the classic, compelling Captain America: First Avenger. Where was the stirring equivalent “world doesn’t need a perfect soldier, but a good man,” speech amidst this mess? We waited and waited again for something other than a perfect Power Lady (so she doesn’t need to learn great responsibility either, yay!) but the real good – i.e. relatable, compassionate, etc. – Carol Danvers failed to show up…
Yeah, but wasn’t Goose purrrfect?!
When the “cat” freaks out, tentacles an’ all, it suddenly felt like a Men In Black movie – truly, one of the most abhorrent experiences anybody could suffer in a cinema…
Can’t get over the fact that the script is unbelievably inept. The dialogue is so clunky – Captain Clunky!
Despite having the “Supreme intelligence” onboard, there are too many dumb moments; considering all that flying: in jets, spaceships or just as herself, her “character” never gets off the ground…
This blog has been honed to practice (and hopefully perfect) my story-telling skills, for when my movie/TV breakthrough eventually comes my humble way. And yet this esteemed gig goes to…
this gaggle of amateurs…?!
Behold: the Plight of the Livid Brad?
Not at all.
Yours truly is too tired to generate any antipathy towards anyone or anything these days. So to read about these ignorant trolls wasting their energies – and our time – spewing their, quite frankly, pathetic Caps-Lock-laden rants at something they haven’t even bothered to watch(!) makes for the most bewildering behaviour.
Have reached that stage in my life whereby the race, sex – or even sexual orientation – of a character has become irrelevant, how that character is developed (or not!) however, means everything to me.
Having watched her in a couple of TV promotional interviews, Brie Larson comes across as witty and charming, so it’s a shame that “Vers”/Carol is denied the chance to bring these qualities to this muddled mix.
Out of 21 movies, this is the first with a female lead…
…and yet, instead, we’re all raving about how cool and funny Samuel L. Jackson as a remarkably-undistracting-de-aged Nick Fury turned out to be…
Fortunately, this interplay between Brie and Sam is fun and entertaining to watch – they obviously got along fine and dandy whilst working on Kong: Skull Island (gee, remember that?!)
Considering how Brie has signed a SEVEN-movie contract with Marvel, ensuring this Cap’s prominent role in the MCU’s Next Phase, this movie should have delivered a more substantial, more distinctive, and, if you will, more thought-provoking introduction to supposedly the most powerful hero in the MCU. Up until now, this franchise looked, and felt, meticulously planned, years in advance – from its expansive plot-unfolding to those subtle Easter Eggs – and yet this movie feels too muddled, as if hastily thrown together at-the-last-minute just to appease the crowd who have been crying out forever for a female-led Marvel superhero movie. Thus, it does not present a suitable prelude to Avengers: Endgame, in which the hotly-anticipated rematch against Thanos may likely culminate in GOOSE GOING FOR THE HEAD.
Whatever’s in store, in the ever-reliable hands of the Russo brothers, Avengers: Endgame ought to be a more epic and engaging eyeful than what we got here…
Yep, Captain Marvel is now the most powerful hero in the MCU.
Can’t dispute that.
She single-handedly drained my will to write for at least ten days after my trip to the cinema. And almost depleted my enthusiasm for the upcoming Endgame (!)
One fan Comment summed it up perfectly: “If Captain Marvel has to fight Thanos, I’ll be rooting for Thanos…”
Sure, the Captain Marvel movie may help pass the time, but it’s not worth dropping into a Blockbuster™ for…
I remember all my life, raining down as cold as ice. Shadows of a man, a face through a window, crying in the night…
Heck, this man only happens to be Nicolas frickin’ Cage! Here he’s Red Miller, a lumberjack, but – hoo boy! – he’s NOT okay. “Crying?” Ha! That’s putting it mildly. Brooding in his bathroom, Cage is growling with grief and hollerin’ with hate in his own legendary, inimitable way, splashing vodka down his throat and over his wounds, ‘cos a wacko redneck hippy cult known as Children Of The New Dawn infiltrated the blissful, pine-scented haven in the Pacific Northwest which he had shared with his girlfriend, Mandy. Until they killed and cremated her...
From Panos (Beyond The Black Rainbow) Cosmatos, prepare for a blood-red phantasmagoria of ethereal imagery and INSANE violence.
Just one long horrific gonzo bloodfest, this most certainly is not.
No, in one of its most striking scenes, in order “to get the girl,” Brother Swan drives deep into the woods and blows the Horn of Abraxas, thus summoning a biker gang known as the Black Skulls – NOT your ordinary bunch of drug-addled Peter Fondas. This movie rams all logic and reality into the furnace, revelling instead as an almost-delirious, acid-drenched dark fantasy. Therefore these queasy riders just happen to be monstrous psychos in spiked leather gear – as if they chugged in from Mordor via the Mad Max wasteland – “speaking” with suitably deep and demonic drawls. Mercifully, we never get a proper butcher’s at their ugly mugs – perhaps it’s just as well! Once, apparently, they were normal men, but The Chemist cooked up “a special batch” of psychedelicacies, transforming them into the freakiest bunch of devilish antagonists since Hellraiser’s cenobites. They’re mostly depicted as menacing figures, eerily silhouetted against the thick, crimson smog…
As you just heard, the intense images herein are ably and effectively complemented by Johann (Arrival) Johannsson’s in turns blistering and breathtaking soundtrack. Sadly, Johann passed away shortly before the film’s release last October, so there is a message: “Dedicated to our friend Johann Johannsson” during the end credits – the only time this whole production presents something sane and respectful.
Arguably the outstanding track is the Love Theme; wonderfully evocative of Vini Reilly AND Robert Fripp at their sublime best- it’s uncanny. Even reminded me of Popol Vuh’s mesmerising score for Aguirre: Der Zorn Gottes (1974), itself a dizzying descent (down the Amazon river) into an ever-swirling madness.
If you go down in the woods tonight – hey! – you’re sure of Nicolas Cage being your BIG surprise! Having already played the Ghost Rider – Spirit of Vengeance – (twice!) Nasty Nic knows plenty about exacting big paybacks.
Here – by Jove! – he’s as cross as two sticks. And crazy?! Oh yes. Ol’ Rage Cage is – as we say in Blighty – a few Hobnobs™ short of a full packet…
Speaking of hobnobs, the leader of the New Dawn cult is Jeremiah Sand, a Manson-like, failed musician nutjob played by Linus Roache. Personally, it wasn’t his performance that unsettled me, but his uncanny resemblance to a disgraced ’70s UK children’s TV presenter…
Thou shalt not mess with an unbalanced woodsman who makes his living using a chainsaw. Well, really: you’d think those dozy Dawn dipwits would know that!
Straight after his beloved has been killed, Red staggers indoors; the Children forgot to switch the TV off: cue the movie’s most surreal moment: a bizarre (and thankfully FAKE) commercial for Cheddar Goblin, a horrendous puppet barfing cheezy chunks over a couple of giggling children sitting at their breakfast table!
In order to wreak his lunatic revenge spree against Sant, his New Dawners AND the Black Skulls, Red pays a visit to an old chum: Caruthers (played by Bill “Predator” Duke) a taciturn recluse who lives in a dilapidated trailer elsewhere in the forest. He’s been looking after “The Reaper”: Red’s CROSSBOW.
And that’s not all! Whoa, no!
Red even goes to the trouble of forging The Beast: his very own badass hippy-hackin’ AXE. Ah, those Dwarf-lords in their mountain halls would have been proud…
It’s very convenient that Red has someone like Caruthers with which to discuss his revenge-spree. At one point, Caruthers remarks: “These arrows cut through the bone like a fat kid eats cake.”
HELLO? DID ANYBODY SAY CAKE?! 😉
Mandy herself – played here by Andrea Riseborough – exudes a fragile and doe-eyed beauty, and uet there’s something creepy anout her otherwise innocent look. It’s like watching Shelley Duvall in The Shining all over again…
Although its never mentioned, Mandy seems to have suffered a shocking experience at some point in her past, for she has totally withdrawn from civilization, to nestle in the healing tranquility of nature, and while away her days producing comic book art. And reading dark fantasy novels. It would have been nice to see more of Andrea (Birdman) Riseborough and Nicolas (Birdy) Cage together, but let’s face it: this “visionary director” seemed far too eager to bring on this
If teenage Brad had gawped at this, he would certainly have squealed with delight at the numerous sequences of blood-spewing on display here. But these days…
Perhaps it’s a tad too excessive (for me).
Perhaps one has reached that stage in life where the flow of excellently-crafted words pouring forth is infinitely more preferable…
There’s no point in developing these one-dimensional cult members – everybody knows that gruesome ends await each one of them anyway! As to be expected, Red is haunted by disturbing dreams, but here, all those brief sequences are… animated.
And – oh yes – there’s a tiger. A live – not animated, LIVE – tiger. What’s it doing there…? Heck, not even yer ol’ buddy Brad can explain that one…
Apart from a President Reagan speech on the car radio, and a couple of retro football shirts, there is little indication to suggest that this “supremely unnerving horror dimension” is actually set in 1983. Retrobrad had half-expected an ’80s soundtrack(!), but: soz, folks, there’s no Cyndi Lauper or Kajagoogoo to bop along to here…
However, there is an intriguing assortment of retro-references. The chainsaw duel is reminiscent of the duel featured in The Texas Chinsaw Massacre 2 (1986). And these proceedings commence with the classic Universal Pictures logo from the 70s (a personal fav!)
At one point, Red mutters something about: the psychotic drowns where the mystic swims, alluding to the quote by mythologist Joseph Campbell (see above!)
Incidentally, the epilogue – considering the cram-packed cavalcade of chaos and carnage that preceded it – is a surprisingly pleasant, almost-incongruous, but very much appreciated, totally non-trippy bittersweet sequence. Having shattered our senses and churned our stomachs, Cosmatos sees fit to round it all off by well and truly rending our hearts. (If you can call it that, the post-post-credits scene is just a still image – a montage of Mandy‘s artwork).
Would Brad recommend this gvindhouse show?
Aww gee, that’s a toughie.
There are some unusual and truly astonishing visual flourishes here, but, as forewarned, you will have to endure truly disturbing images lurking within. If and when you decide to watch, make sure that Auntie Mary has left the room…
Stuff the sequels. Raze the remakes.
We need MORE unique works like this, but: less gore, next time… please?
And oh no, Brad will definitely NOT be sending Mandy away!
“Well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking
And I need you today, oh Mandy…”
Honestly, how can a “movie” as DEMENTED as this, offer such a hauntingly BEAUTIFUL Love Theme as this…?
Rumours are rife around the Rebellion that
Queen Cherisasara of Madeira, in the Whoopeedoo System, is an Imperial spy.
Having just narrowly escaped the Ruckus in Star-Field Zigma 12,
Brad Burrito Fartlighter, the Rebellion’s most
has opted to investigate the matter, especially as
that pleasure planet is renowned throughout the galaxy for its
delectable sweet fancies.
So whilst waiting for the ravishing ruler to show up,
your hero is entertaining the pretty Princess Gamelan at the Royal Court…
“Y’see, lov. it wuz like this,” Brad gesticulated. “I just manoeuvred straight down this trench and skimmed the surface to this point. The target area was only two meters wide. It was a small thermal exhaust port, right below the main port… but enough of this technical gubbins! ‘Ow ya bin doin’, Gammy?”
“Awesome as always, Mr. B, but enough about me – I take it the shaft was ray-shielded, so you had to use proton torpedoes?”
“You’re tellin’ me! It- say! You’re wasted at this royal court, lov. Ya could-“
At that moment, the heavy gilded double-doors of the Throne Room flung open, and in marched an official magisterial entourage.
“BEHOLT!” cried a whining and insubordinate voice. “Mek ware fer Hair Illuztriouz Majezty: Queen Cherizazara!”
The princess bolted straight to her feet; Brad stayed sprawled across his glitzy beanbag.
An elegant and deliriously beautiful verdant-skinned young woman swayed majestically across the gleaming marble floor. A trio of Diluvian dwarf-girls carried the extensive chiffon train of her elaborate silk costume.
“Remove the harlot from my sight, immediately!” she snapped, but with such a rich and mellifluous voice. “Leave us, Chamberlain!”
“Vhot?! Year Majezty! Leaf yo ELLURN wiv ze alien?!”
The Queen of Madeira shot one disdainful glance at your hero and snarled: “This… Earthling… should not give me any… trouble… Now, Chamberlain, be GONE!”
“But Year Majezty, Ay muzt protezt-!”
“I’m the QUEEN! TRY ME!”
“But yo muzt moof-!”
“I DON’T MOVE when you want me to move! And I don’t groove when you tell me to groove! ‘Cos I’m the QUEEN! And I always will be! Now… pathetic. Little… man. Get OUT, before I throw you out…!”
The Queen gnashed her teeth, observing venomously as her officials, the princess and servant-girls all scurried out; the Battleforce Commander-turned-blogger watched in fascination.
“Impressive. Most impressive…” he muttered, clambering to his feet.
The emerald enchantress rotated impatiently on her formidable stilettos and marched menacingly towards your calm and collected hero; her lustrous, but intimidatng, hazel eyes seared into his cute blues.
“SO…!” the Queen of Madeira snarled. “What’s your story? It had better be good or I’ll-I’ll… …!”
Unexpectedly, she fell silent, looking around anxiously to check if her minions had all gone.
“Oh, what the heck, they have all gone, haven’t they…? Good. Come here, baby…“
In that instant, all her rage dissipated, and she hurled her lithe figure into the Earthman’s arms.
“Hiya, Hotshot! How you doing?!”
“Sound as a pound, lov.”
“Ha ha, HA, that’s my Brad!”
She stepped back, taking in a thorough butcher’s at him, then shook his hunky torso playfully.
“Uh-huh, look at me…”
“Gawd, yer even MORE ridiculously good-lookin’ than ever! How do ya do it, baby?!”
“‘Ow much time ya got, Yer Maj…?”
The Queen of Madeira led Brad to her Royal Lounge, a sumptuous chamber strewn with even larger glitzy beanbags; intricate mosaics decorated the floor while sumptuous murals adorned the ceiling; an open, ornate balcony overlooked the main foyer. She guided him over to a large, opulent couch-for-two; she reclined, slowly and sensuously, enticing him to repose beside her.
“Tell me, Brad, what… …” she exclaimed softly, then tugged at his jacket to catch his attention. “Hello, handsome… are you receiving me, over… …?!”
He could not speak (yet), otherwise entranced by the winsome smile radiating from her glistening fuchsia lips, the billowing violet, candy floss “hair” and the divine caress of her intoxicating vanilla perfume.
“Ah, Cherry, I’ve missed you…” he eventually sighed, savouring the velvety mattress beneath him.
“As always, I am transfixed by the exquisite lustre in yer eyes,
A glow that shines like the sunrise.
When first we met, me heart flew high,
On gleaming wings through a cloudless sky.
You ta me are ev’rythin’,
The sweetest song that I can sing…”
“Whoo, really…? Say, Hotshot, all that cake has certainly given you a sweet mouth, hasn’t it…?!” she sniggered bashfully.
“Okay… There is a very special man,
Who came from far, far away.
He visits me but only once in a crimson moon,
But not a day later can he stay.
Our song of love is pure and fair
All hurt the music can repair.
How cute and extraordinary this dude from “Earth,”
All those fleeting moments when he excites my heart, I love a lifetime’s worth.”
“Nice… but then again, ya can’t beat a good slice o’ Madeira Cake. Or three…”
“Thank you! So tell me, Brad, were you and… that lil cupcake… exchanging equally heartfelt lines when I came in? You know she’s bad news in cheap make-up…”
“What, Gammy? Aww, she’s a good girl, causin’ no-“
“No trouble? Uff, she’s a constant pain – always poking her snooty lil nose in my affairs. She’s untrustworthy – she’ll betray us both one day…”
“By Holdo’s Beard! Tha’s nah way ta talk abaht yer own sister! Look, she only requested some cake recipes, an’ I obliged, like…”
A lengthy disbelieving pause, until the Queen of Madeira slapped her mouth to stifle shrieks of laughter.
“Oh, YOU! That’s the lamest fib I’ve ever heard. Ha! For once, your wicked way with words FAILS you, Brad. That’s the most-”
“‘Onest statement. She fancied some’t other than Madeira Cake fer a change…”
Cherry leant forward, placing the flexed fingers of her right, bejewelled hand to the side of his head, then darted back in astonishment.
“By the crystal foxes of Crait…” she gasped. “You’re… telling the truth…?!”
“I got no reason ta lie ta you, Cherry… an’ you KNOW that, too… Speaking of truth…”
“Yes, yes, I picked it up in the mind-meld as well – it dominates your thoughts. Rajendra and your rebel-buddies all believe that I’m an Imperial spy… Those… rumours have gotten out of control… They’re sooo… ridiculous…!” She skimmed his luscious lips with one of her extended, extensively-painted fingernails. “…An’ you KNOW that!”
“Yyyyyeah, I guess so…”
“You KNOW so! Look, every time you’re here, Brad, it’s such a thrill… Just how long have you been fighting with the Rebellion? Are you closer now to defeating the Empire than you were… Dyzan knows how many years ago…?! Walk away from it all, baby…”
“Come again, lov…?!”
“Leave the war behind. Stay here, in my palace, and we can enjoy the myriad delights of Madeira together…
Can you stay…?
Can you be mine…?
Can you… be… my love forever more… …?”
“Yes, I can be… but part o’ me is always gonna be itchin’ ta get aht an’ thwart the Empire as much as poss… Aww, ‘eck... I’ll STAY! Oh yes, Cherry. A thousand times, yes, I’ll be YOURS. Throughaht the galaxy there’s NAHbody:
“Not ‘arf, lov! Yeah, there’s nahbody as groovy as you… Fer you, Yer Maj, I can be anythin’ you wan’ me to be… Anythin’, lov… … as long as it’s not an Admiral wiv pink ‘air… …”
“There’s something I’ve simply got to tell you, baby…” the Queen announced.
“Mmm, okey-dokey, lov – I’m all ears-“
A sensor on her bracelet bleeped manically. “Oh, fudge!” she cursed.
“Oh, I’ve ‘eard that many times before…”
“What? No, not that. Please excuse me, Brad, I’ve got to take this call… Um, I’ll see that my royal chefs prepare you the finest spicy meal – the way you like it!”
“Ooh, goody gumdrops! Bless yer heart, Cherry…”
“Ha ha! Thought you’d dig that! Won’t be a minute, baby…”
She swanned over to her office chamber and activated her vid-conf system; a familiar Dark Lord appeared onscreen, beaming devilishly.
“Hello, preetty! ‘Tiz done?”
“Yes, yes, Zeg, the Earthling is here with me…”
“Goot! Ay shell dizpetch may fainezt deeveejun uv Shokk Troopairz to appreehent heem! Heh heh… Yo hef done well, Yair Majezty!”
“No, not at all… Now you listen here, Lord Tosspot: I only agreed to this rotten plan to prevent you from foisting one of your blasted garrisons on my territory! But to betray this hero? Nuh-uh, I’m not going to comply any more-“
“A footile murve. HA, yo kennot deny eet: Madeira belurngz to Zan Doka! End ze Urfzcurm eez main! Main, Ay tell yo, main main MAIN!”
“NEVER… We will never see that-“
“Urv course… Ay ken mek eet eeziair fer yo – jurrrrroin weev me! End togezzair ve shell rule ze galaxy ez huzzbend end WAIFE!”
“I’ll never join you! Demented little Zandokan cu-“
“ZYLENZ! Knur yer plazz, woman!”
“Uff, I know it all too well, Crotchstain. Always – ALWAYS! – parsecs ahead of the likes of you. Doing EVERYTHING in my POWER to deny you and your despicable Imperial hordes whatever you crave! For the pride of my people. And then some…”
“Heh, yo try ta fool Zegreatme?! Yo VEEL be main, darleenk! Dyzan decreez eet! Ve vill BREEEED weev yo, end our Empeerial prurgeny-“
“Ugh, hush up, NO! By the crimson moon, a thousand times no!! I’d rather kiss a skunk-“
“Hmm, zpeakeenk urv zkurnkz… vot do yo zee in zat Urfmairn?! Hee’z recklezz! Pennilezz! Hopelezz! AY em Zegreatme, Dark Lord uv Zan Doka! Ve ken leef een ENNY WUN urv may DOZAIN palazzez! VOT do yo ZEE een a BURM like ZAT?!”
“That’s something a chauvinist like you will NEVER understand…”
“Grrr, but vhy HEEM? Vhy, vhy?! Tell me VHY!”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Good boy. Over and out.”
“Confound it,” the Queen growled as she returned to her special guest. “CONFOUND it!”
“Whassup? Run ahtta salad?”
“What? Oh… no, it’s- Like I said, I’ve really got something to tell you, baby…”
“‘Ey, wotcha frettin’ abaht…? Y’know, Yer Maj, I’ve never seen ya lose yer cool-“
“Yeah, yeah, baby, but please listen-“
Suddenly, the double-doors downstairs swung violently open.
“I got THAT awright!”
“No! It’s- aow, HELL – it’s too late… …”
Brad peered over the balcony and yelped as a division of Shokk Troopers burst in: “‘ULK IN AN ‘OT TUB! Zandokans!! ‘Ow the blazes did THEY get in ‘ere?!”
“THAT is what I’ve… been trying to tell you… Forgive me, Brad, I-I… granted them permission to come here… to capture you…”
“Cherry, no… Say it ain’t so…” his lip quivered as he drew his blaster.
The Queen of Madeira could not bear to gaze into his crestfallen face. “Please, Commander, try to understand – with the Empire vying to wrest my sovereignty away from me on one side, and my beleaguered council trying to retain social order on the other, I had to… play along…”
“Aow… maybe yer… playin’ along wiv me now…” Brad sulked, desperately trying to quash a wodge of mistrust swelling in his heart. “This ‘ole charade wuz a TRAP… an’ – jeez – fer once I fell fer it..?! Not me, not now! No way, no ‘ow!”
“Oh no, my sweet! I would NEVER- You must NOT think like tha- WATCH OUT!”
The Troopers hurtled into view, and the queen grabbed your hero, and away they fled down the marble-floored corridor. They could hear these one-dimensional extras clanking right after them in hot pursuit.
Along the way, Cherry activated an emergency panel in the wall and, brandishing a phase-plasma rifle, fired warning shots at the approaching Imperial troopers, who – upon running into range – immediately ducked for cover:
“Do you think you can trust me, now, handsome…?!”
“‘Whoo, outta sight. Long Live The Queen– ‘Ere, ‘ang on…” Brad protested, gawping in amazement. “Tha’s not in the script…! “I’m the ‘ero! ‘Ow come yer gun’s bigger than mine?!”
“That’s life, honeybunch…”
“Ha! Funny girl- ‘Ey, this auto-door! In ‘ere, quick!”
“No, Brad, that’s my-!”
He burst into a small, but refined room, where dozens of ornate, shimmering garments bedecked glittering racks along both walls.
“Dear Barbara… Gedda loada’ the fancy clobber in ‘ere…”
“-My walk-in-wardrobe, sir.”
“Groovy. We can disguise ourselves as a coupla’ Jawas an’ split while the Shokkers are still scopin’…”
“Bra-ha-had, no-ho-ho! Funny boy!” the queen cried hysterically, trying to stifle a fit of royal giggles. She frantically closed and locked the auto-door behind them, hoping that any Zandokans hadn’t heard her outburst.
They gazed at each other amorously in the half-light, listening to their biochemech pursuers lurking stealthily just outside…
“We ought to be “in danger”…” she whispered ever so demurely. “But- but why oh why do I… feel so… absolutely safe with you…?”
“‘Cos I’m the ‘ero?” he muttered ever so charmingly. “‘Cos I’m the one ‘oo – despite gettin’ constantly shot at – nevah gets ‘it…? Stay outta sight, lov…”
He gently prised the rifle from the Queen’s clutches and reached for the auto-door, intending to charge out blasting. “Bring ’em on, I’d prefer a straight fight ta all this sn-“
Suddenly, behind him, Cherry pressed against his back, wrapping her arms around his abs, holding him against her pounding chest.
“No, hotshot…” she insisted, almost breathlessly. “I’m NOT going to let you go… a-again. So many… MANY times I’ve let you fly off and do your… “hero-thing” all over the galaxy, but not… not this time, baby. Come on, let’s escape… together, far beyond these Troopers… the Empire… And everything…”
“Aww, Cherry, where could we go? Where CAN we go…? I’m a Wanted man in 12 systems, me!”
“Uh-huh, but nobody wants you more than the Queen of Madeira…”
She began to fondle Brad’s hand.
“Stop that,” he requested.
“Stop what?” she replied.
“Stop that. Me mitts are dir’y.”
“My hands are dirty too. What are you afraid of… …?”
“In ‘ere… wiv you…” Brad exclaimed softly, “There’s no uvva place in the galaxy I’d rather be right now…”
“Nice. How long have we been locked in this hug, baby…?”
“Dunno, lov. But definitely not as long as I’d like…”
“Aww, bless your heart, Brad. I thought we could get out of here now, but I can still hear them creeping around outside.”
“Nah, tha’s me stomach…”
“Oh no! You still haven’t had that meal I promised you! So sorry, babe-”
“No worries, Cherry. We’ve… ‘ad a busy day… It‘s been… dramatic-”
“It’s been… unforgettable… I think we… especially you, you dashing thing, have waited long enough…” the Queen of Madeira panted tenderly in his ear, stepping back to unfasten her dress…
“…Strippin’ yer togs orf at a time like this?! Can ya do that?!”
“Try me, baby. I can do anything – ‘cos I’m the Queen!”
“An’ always will be…”
At that very moment, Brad squinted, and flung his hand up over his face as a piercing white light engulfed him. All Cherry could do was stand there, and watch, aghast and agitated, as all Brad could do was abruptly vanish amidst a portal of pulsating particles… …
“B-Baby… … …?”
When his sight had readjusted, your hero found himself standing on the teleporter of his own crate: the Calista Blockhead. His Second Officer: Lexi Wahldorf stood at the console, arms folded in a highly agitated manner…
“An’ jus’ what the blazes am I doin’ back ‘ere so soon?!” the Battleforce Commander-turned-blogger growled incredulously.
“I- WE, had to get you away from the spy, pronto!” Lexi roared.
“Look, fer the umpteenth time, The Queen of Madeira AIN’T a spy!”
“No, not the queen – the princess…”
“Oh, come orf it! Gammy’s not in league wiv da Zandokans…”
“Course not, she’s OUR spy. General Rajendra himself requested that she report any shady shenanigans at the Madeiran Royal Court; several Imperial agents have infiltrated the queen’s staff already-“
“Blimey! Now that explains ‘er exceptionally avid interest in me adventures in Star-Field Zigma 12-“
“GAWD, you-! You make it SO difficult sometimes.”
“I do, I really- eh?! ‘Oo me? Nevah!”
“Shoosh, Commander! YOU – “great hero,” uff! – were interfering with her mission! You couldn’t stop pestering her-”
“Wuz so! You w-“
“Wuz. NOT. “Interferin’.” Lex. She only requested some cake recipes, an’ I obliged, like…”
Lexi shook her head in appalled disbelief. “That’s the lamest fib I’ve ever heard… Ha! That’s the most-”
“Look, Lex, ‘Er Majesty can verify that! She even put ‘er ‘and on my-“
“BRA-AD, be extra careful what you spout in front of your Second Officer, Commander!”
“Hmm… an’ you be extra careful wotcha doin’ wiv yer Commander, Officer! You send me back right this instant, an’-“
“And just WHY did you pay a visit to Her Majesty, the Queen of Madeira…?”
“I’ll ‘ave ya know that I wuz… operatin’ as close advisor to ‘Er Maj-“
“Oho, TOO close, Commander. Your smug chops are splattered with HER blamed lipstick!!”
“Ooh, Blimey Charley, are they really…?! Anyways, why did ya ‘ave ta get me aht then, jus’ as I wuz abaht ta-“
“I KNOW what you were about to do, Commander! That’s why I got you out then…”
“Yeah, but why, Lex? Why? Tell me WHY?!”
She stared intensely at him until her lips trembled:
“Do you not know… …?”
Lo, Brother Brad, the medieval scribe-monk who vowed to thwart the onslaught of wraithkynde on Earth hath returned. An irresistible urge to resurrect that accursed entity known as MY NOVEL made a most welcome appearance.
You may recall some time back, when faced with the option of either writing a cosmic adventure, or a medieval mystery, time – and (lack of) energy – might be saved if – yea, ’tis so! – both were combined into one intriguing entity. Initially, a two-part tale appeared on this blog during August 2015.
It became such an immersive joy to compile that the need to write even more of it compelled me to set up a separate blog-site: themedievil.wordpress.com where one could experiment with drafts and the layout of ancient language.
Now, this project is (tentatively) entitled: The Monastikon Chronicles.
“One of my ancestors” – a scribe-monk of no fixed abbey – must carry out the solitary and ungodly task of smiting members of “wraithkynde” – evil extra-terrestrial beings who have crash-landed in 12th century southern England. This dark, archaic science-fantasie, is light years different from the bright, frothy-mirth to be found in my Fartlighter Bradventures.
Is alternating between such diametrically opposed writing styles difficult to maintain?
Not at all! Variety is the spice of Bradscribe! 🙂
One thing is for sure: if and when the movie adaptation finally comes to fruition, the theme “tune” has already been selected: a lilting, evocative chant by Hildegard von Bingen, a German nun from the 12th century – contemporaneous with Brother Brad – whose considerable range of the most extraordinary 900+ year old musical compositions have helped set the tone, and directly influenced, a great deal of The Monastikon’s content.
Atmospheric, sonorous choirs have always had a profound effect on me. And my writing. In addition, dark ambient producer: Metatron Omega has provided me with some truly inspirational pieces, setting the right mood to help me create my own medieval world. These album notes struck a particular chord with me:
“The hermit travels beyond enlightenment, and deep into the perception of the Unknowable.”
Straight away, the parallels can be drawn: unmistakably, that “hermit” is Brother Brad, while his “Unknowable” oppoments are the wraiths: a malevolent race of shapeshifters from beyond the stars… “…and deep into the perception”? i.e. yea, they have been expecting him!
“The everlasting voices of monks lost in space and time, searching for knowledge as they echo through dimensions…”
This soaring masterpiece exceeds even my own stringent Bradtastic expectations:
From the very beginning, it felt imperative that the narrative be related in the first person. As every good writing manual will tell you, the main advantage in selecting first person point of view, is that it provides a sense of immediacy. There is also a degree of intimacy as the reader feels like he/she has direct access to the narrator’s thoughts. And not to mention: a sense of authenticity.
Actually, this approach is a necessary one.
Of the numerous aspects of medieval life gleaned from my extensive research, especially notable was the fact that during the age of the large monastic houses – from the early 12th century (in which my novel is set) until the early 16th century – all brethren were actively encouraged to maintain a vow of silence, at all times, thus seriously hindering any chance of Brother Brad interacting with his fellow monks!
Only the highest echelons of that particular house: the Abbot, the Infirmarer; the Receptor et al offer the inclusion of dialogue in my story.
That is, dialogue with human characters…
Already, drafts of some feisty confrontations with wraithkynde have appeared on my other blog-site. And readers will be interested to know that these otherworldly antagonists are garrulous as well as ghoulish!
Encouragingly, the onset of this winter season presented a fresh chance to get back on track. Driven by the need to revive and rework the considerable backlog of unfinished fiction projects that clutter the draws and bureaus within Brad Manor, some encouraging sections have been developed during this past four months, compared to the last twelve months prior to that. Moreover, that blog platform is an ideal place from which to develop my novel, as each Post represents a passage from this venerable scribe-monk’s journal.
Part of my fascination with Marvel’s The Mighty Thor, stems from the intriguing way in which Stan Lee and Jack Kirby accentuated the Lord – sorry! God – of Thunder’s legendary origins by making him speak in a faux-Middle English manner. In the 12th century, if and when anything had to be uttered in monasteries, it would hake been related in either Olde English or Latin. Did have the opportunity in my second year of university to actually study the latter, but, of course, there was no way of knowing back then that such a project as this would come to fruition.
It has been fascinating working Olde English – in particular its extremely antiquated approach to spelling – into my fiction. However, one recent (successful) author of historical fiction: Robyn Young – who concentrates on the Knights Templar during the 14th century – remarked how her anxious agent advised her that readers are generally put off by an overabundance of olde grammar.
Indeed, am very grateful that – a couple of years ago – one of my few readers sent a Comment to let me know that he’d had difficulty following my olde-style composition. Admittedly, this writer went overboard (and enjoyably so) with that particular draft. Despite being prepared to offer a Glossary of Olde English and Latin terms, to ensure publication some significant reductions in olde prose will, inevitably, have to be administered!
As the motto of Augustus – the first Emperor of Rome -advised: “Festina lente!” [Make haste slowly!]
Of the three simplistic stages of any novel: a beginning, a middle and an end, one is fairly confident to state that at least the first has been set!
Brother Brad witnesses what would, at that point in history, be described as a “falling star.” He realises that it is an “unearthlie vessel” – it changes course in the sky and its speed decreases during its descent…
Having traced its “occupants” (there were at least three wraiths to emerge from it – frustratingly, the exact number is unknown) to the nearest abbey, the course of the novel focuses on Brother Brad’s attempts to deduce which monks are not what they appear to be…
Naturally, the denouement will be determined by what takes place at the core of the novel. Unfortunately, the original premise did not seem credible or plausible; the alternative course of actions impressed me even less. Before you could say: “Carpe diem,” my creative momentum vanished, and although some further effort was put in (by providing more back-story and developing one or two minor characters) you may have noticed that work on my novel ceased completely.
There is another – but more telling – reason why my novel stalled during the middle of last year (and my enthusiasm to write/revise it has suddenly revived). The Monastikon is, essentially, a Winter’s tale. Very much like the infant 20th century Brad many moons ago – who lost count of the days away from school due to one winter snuffle after another – Brother Brad constantly bemoans the wretched weather blighting his sojourn at the abbey. This light relief is further accentuated by the realisation that none of the other monks are not the least bit troubled by the disagreeable climate!
As Ovid once said: “Perfer et obdura!” (Be patient and hold out!)
Know ye this, my blessed band o’ Bradficton buffs!
In addition to new instalments – posted at the end of each month – there are plenty of archived posts where a lack of energy or enthusiasm for creative writing meant that stand-ins consisting of no more than quotes and a music video had to suffice; over the next quarter, my aim is to revise these posts, and hopefully present something worth reading!
It would be very much appreciated if you could pay a visit to the latest instalment here:
Any feedback/criticisms would be most welcome!
Alas, ’tis my task to write these Chronicles.
For you see, the original manuscript, which Brother Brad had so painstakingly laboured over – like so much of the relics and other holy paraphernalia from the Middle Ages – was destroyed during the Dissolution of the Monasteries that swept through every region of Tudor England between 1536-1540… …
Hard to believe that my father – former globe-trotting RAF sergeant and Jedi Knight – passed away on this day 10 years ago.
Considering how difficult it has been trying to concentrate on writing anything else this week, this Post seemed like an ideal celebration to compile.
Having had absolutely no paternal guidance himself, he sometimes found it difficult to be Dad – “I’m just making it up as I go along, man” 🙂 Whatever problems or disagreements we had, it would only take one of us to suggest: “Let’s watch a movie” and everything would revert to being as right as rain again.
He really digged a smart script – he constantly criticised my short stories, complaining about the drab dialogue, constantly advising me to listen –always listen – to the way people talked. Thus, he picked up some iconic one-liners along the way, many of which are included here.
He appreciated some really fine performances, most notably: Eli Wallach (as Tuco) in The Good, The Bad And the Ugly (1967); Robert Lacey (as Toht) in Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981); and Robert De Niro in practically everything he did! But mainly the Godfather Part II (1974), Midnight Run (1988) and Heat (1995).
Possibly the most impressive performance he ever watched came from Anthony Quinn as Arabian tribal chief: Auda abu Tayi in Lawrence Of Arabia (1962). To us, that will stand forever as the Greatest Movie Ever Made – Quinn alone could easily have filled this Top 10 list (but of those few good clips, none of them stay online for long)
Today, you could have been treated to: the Top 10 Planes That Dad Loved To Fly. However, guessing that you probably wouldn’t recognise most of them anyway (for those of you taking notes, No.1 happened to be the de Havilland DH 98 Mosquito 😉 ) instead, this list will just have to suffice.
Paris Texas (1984) was one of those great Americana movies we enjoyed together, mainly because of that haunting soundtrack by Ry Cooder.
My father had been THAT CLOSE to getting a job Stateside, but after that fell through, he “disappeared,” trying to travel as much overland as possible. So when we found Ry Cooder attached to the soundtrack of this thriller set in the Louisana bayou, we thot we’d give it a go.
Mostly, a mean, moody and magnificent work, but the last ten minutes was a revelation. For the next few months, my quest for Cajun LPs stretched far and wide…
An anti-war war movie set during the Boer War (1899-1902) based on a true story.
Dad stayed up well after his bedtime, completely absorbed in this courtroom drama (and he detested courtroom dramas!) that featured one of the most notorious cases of military injustice.
And at breakfast the next morning, he couldn’t help but go on and on about it. Would have bunked off school that morning, just to listen to his enthusiasm all the way until lunchtime, if Mum hadn’t told me to skedaddle.
We regarded this as the greatest Australian movie ever made. Yes, that’s right, we thought it’s even better than Mad Max!
A cool, entertaining and highly recommended buddy comedy – how many times did this grace our VCR?! It got to the stage where we could hurl whole sections of dialogue at each other, and still never get tired of watching the actual movie.
The amazing – yet under-rated – Charles Grodin only had to walk through the door into this scene and Dad was already in stitches.
1:24 always cracked him up even more:
My father loved to read Philip K Dick’s novels, so couldn’t wait to watch the TV premiere of Blade Runner.
So much has been written about its influential visual futurism, but it was one of the replicants: not the obvious choice: Roy Batty, but Leon, played by the crazy-eyed Brion James who Dad paid particular attention to. His role as the one-armed Cajun trapper in Southern Comfort was the other reason why we watched that movie!
Always dig that mo @ 0:35 – when Dekard draws his gun and Leon immediately bats it away.
As Dad so eloquently put it: “Way too cool, man!”
Yeah, this is the typical “Dad Movie” alright.
Expect nothing less than one long gore-fest cram-packed with incredibly stylised bloody action sequences in Sam Peckinpah’s infamous masterpiece: The Wild Bunch.
And yet its most peaceful moment, when the bunch are riding off to certain death, that really struck a chord with Dad. He instantly fell in love with La Golondrina (The Swallow); it’s a Mexican tune written in the 19th century.
Had to take note of its time on our tape whenever he often requested just “THAT MOMENT from The Wild Bunch.”
“Very smart. That’s very smart for you damn gringos…”
You may already know how this blogger was blessed to have gawped at the original Star Wars trilogy in the cinemas on their respective original releases.
Even more exuberant to have a father who – for the next three decades – never failed to admit how glad he was to have taken me (and several excitable chums from school on numerous occasions!) and share the joy to be had from that galaxy far far away.
(For the record, his fav “character” – you’d never guess! – turned out to be Salacious B. Crumb – HA!)
So many thrilling individual moments to choose from…
He loved that now-legendary shot of Luke gazing into the twin suns and EVERY SINGLE TIME it came on, he’d whistle along to the Tatooine Theme, but the Imperial March provoked a more striking action: EVERY SINGLE TIME we reached 1:27, Dad would start slamming his heel into the floor in time to the Imperial beat. Hannibal (our tabby cat) could sense that particular disturbance in the Force comin’ – honestly, he never fled THAT FAST in sheer terror from any other movie…
“You found something?” 😉
Arguably, the coolest western ever made.
Dad taped this for me during my last year at junior school; he’d enjoyed watching this in an open-air screening in Yemen back in ’68. Gian Maria Volonte as El Indio, was one of Dad’s fav villains. Which of his scenes to select?
But then memories of how Dad laughed every time Klaus Kinski appeared, especially here @ 0:10.
This scene is probably the most TENSE confrontation in movie history.
Saw a lot of my father in Colonel Douglas Mortimer (Lee van Cleef): true gentleman; expert marksman; absolute BADASS!
Not only were we entranced by this stupendous and spellbinding retelling of the legend of King Arthur, but we were gobsmacked by the music of Richard Wagner. Siegfied’s Funeral March, especially, had quite an inspirational and spiritual hold over both of us.
With its almost ethereal imagery, and powerful performances, this was John Boorman’s masterpiece.
Studying ancient British history – and the legends/mythology stemming from these isles – became our joint mission; and Excalibur brought the two of us even closer together.
Now you know why this movie is played in Brad Manor every year on the fifth night of the second month…
Aow, it really is getting more emotional now…
My father’s final trip to the cinema came in January 1991. Dances With Wolves satisfied his fascination for American Civil War history, and marked the directorial debut of Kevin Costner, whose The Untouchables (1987) we had enjoyed immensely.
Dad always remarked out loud at the superb training of Two Socks. Except for our last viewing together @ Christmas 2008 – it would mark the final viewing session we shared together, but by that time, he was too weak to keep awake through most of it…
Oh, THAT music:
His favourite movie star.
His favorite rock song.
So when these two most formidable entities in the universe collided in our living room back in ’91, it became one of those life-affirming moments. Heck, with Arnie’s shot-gun twirl, the big rig carnage on the LA freeway and many more energetic sequences, will never forget how Dad kept jumping out of his armchair.
The Original Brad To The Bone 🙂
As that other “great old man” once said: “he was the best pilot in the galaxy and a good friend.”
He always told me: NEVER GIVE UP, and yet he gave up a career in the RAF to become a full-time Dad.
In an insane world, it was the sanest choice.