Are you ‘time poor’? Constantly ‘on the run’? Stressed? Here’s the Withnail Method approach to ‘making time’:

Familiar? Substitute ‘driving the Jag’ for your journey through life, and ‘the fuzz’ for your internal alert systems (Officer Nocioceptor and Senior Sergeant Inflammation). Proponents of Withnail’s can be found sweating through Spin Classes, eating their lunches at their desks, impatiently drumming their fingers in physiotherapists’ waiting rooms, spending entire weekends ferrying their offspring between planned activities, diarising social get-togethers months in advance, and never, absolutely never, turning their mobile smartphones off – until the theatre nurse prises it out of their anesthetised fingers, moments before the knee/spine/shoulder surgery begins.

At the risk of sounding like one of those tired old variety show comedians, we all have a little Withnail in us. Neuroscientists and clinical psychologists are pretty unanimous in holding that humans are generally crap at ‘big picture’ risk assessment (see this Time article from 2006) This is why you can dodge an errantly swerving car but blithely disregard widely published statistics on the contribution of sleep deprivation to the road toll, without perceiving a conflict in survival behavior. It’s also why people would generally prefer to purchase an ergonomic office chair (quick, function specific, and sadly often temporary, fix) rather than invest time in learning how they can use themselves sustainably (slow, broadly applicable, and often rewarding, process).

So over the upcoming festive season, give some thought to how many areas of your life you could implement the old adage “Prevention is better than cure.” And drive carefully.

How I missed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…a categorically rubbish movie, but to quote Macina, ‘one of the most quotable films around, alongside Withnail & I’.

So, still no feedback on Compartment 9, but bless Morris, he probably digresses everywhere. I imagine even putting the key in his front door somehow leads back to a random story involving Irish midget hookers and cocaine. Maybe someone should tell him the Glade Plug-In in his living room isn’t exactly spewing out vanilla. Still, the guy is awesome, and I am really looking forward to next term when we have him for Writing Single Drama.

A short digression – I really want to film a short piece when the title phrase is uttered, and a room full of Screenwriters just speeds out of a room in about 5 seconds. I think it’d just be hilarious.

Anyway, finally in bed at half 2. It’s been an interesting day, certainly a funny one with regards to digression, vanishing writers and, it must be mentioned, South African porn (do NOT ask).

Tomorrow is Robocop 1, 2 and 3. Looking forward to that, as one of my earliest cinematic memories is of Robocop 3. Before that however is the group workshop with what we hope is the complete cast (minus Sara, Marc and Mike for obvious reasons), so we’re hoping to have Sarah, Penny and the rest along for what may be our final read-through before we start putting this thing together. I might actually ask everyone to give me a timetable as to what days they are free, so we can organise the shooting days around that. Should make life simpler.

Oh, and Magnus is going well. Had a good chat with Mike and eventually decided to keep all the colourful Primarchs in the Nikaea scene, just have most of them not talking. They all have to be there in person at the very least, and I think I almost bit his ear off trying to nail that one down.

Right, that be me done for the eve. Up bright and early in the morning.

For some reason I can’t get that line out of my head. It’s just so noteworthy due to the conditions under which it was uttered.

Right, for some strange reason I feel compelled to blog at midnight. No specific reason, midnight has no significance to the blog, just the time of day in which I feel like it. Anyway, watched the new episode of Doctor Who this morning, and it was better than the more recent specials I’ve seen with Mr. Tennant. Hats go off to the make-up department on that episode though, the whole water-creature being nothing more than some contact lenses and a cracked mouth made for some eerie scenes. The story will take another watch to see if it was as well written or not, but early signs for me look mixed.

Must admit I found it hard to stay awake in today’s lecture, which is fairly new for me. Could barely keep my eyes open. Probably from doing a 12 hour shift and then only getting 5 hours sleep. Damn the body clock.

So, next on the agenda is Compartment 9 and what Santa thinks of it. Hopefully he has torn it to shreds to give me some idea of what needs doing for the second draft. Must admit I’m looking forward to ripping chunks out of it. I think it’ll feel a bit like chipping away at the stone when you have the blueprint. Chipping away until no more work needs doing. It’ll be a good feeling to finally get something to ‘finished draft’ stage, never done that before.

Might stick a film on before I go to bed. Perhaps Die Hard 3. Nothing like being serenaded to sleep by Jeremy Irons blowing up a train.

Title: Making Time (Lords)
Author: Calapine
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1477
Characters: Withnail/Shalka!doc, Marwood/Eighth Doctor

Don’t worry about having seen the film; as long as you know who the leads are, you’ll be grinning as widely as me. Eight to (Shalka) Nine: “Right, because we really should have considered who’d be the more successful poverty-stricken sixties actor before we did this?”

“If I had all the money I’ve spent on drink, I’d spend it on drink”

A precursor to the mighty ‘Withnail and I’, and an influence on my own Grapes of Wrath stories, Sir Henry started life as an episodic tale in John Peel’s Radio show in the early 1970’s. Starring Trevor Howard as the fulminating Sir Henry, the film lurches drunkenly around a doomed attempt to exorcise the ghost of Sir Henry’s brother, Humbert, who had been accidentally killed in a drunken duck-shooting incident whilst escaping from an illicit tryst. Amongst a collection of eccentric family members, barking mad friends and mystifyingly loyal servants we meet the compulsively knitting Aunt Florrie, Lady Phillipa of Staines, who enjoys the odd sherry and the unforgettable Old Scrotum, Sir Henry’s wrinkled retainer. Humbert is played by the author, Vivian Stanshall, a man whose enthusiasm for the demon alcohol was matched only by his genius for absurdity and his love of an entirely mythical England.

“I never met a man I didn’t mutilate….”

By Cara Sulieman

ACTOR Richard E Grant returned to the scene of his directorial debut screening yesterday when he was spotted out and about in Edinburgh.

He was strolling around the city under cloudy skies yesterday looking as dapper as usual in a corduroy jacket and chinos.

The Whithnail and I star wasn’t scheduled to appear at any of the film festival events, and wouldn’t say why he was in the city.

But the actor is no stranger to Edinburgh – the world premiere of his directorial debut, ‘Wah-Wah’, was at the Film Festival in 2005.

Originally from Swaziland, he moved to the UK in 1982 to concentrate on his acting career, spending most of his time in theatre until the breakthrough cult hit of Withnail and I.

Since then he has starred in numerous movies, both in the UK and America, and written two books.

He wears two watches at all times – one of which belonged to his father and is always kept on Swaziland time.

The star was out spotted yesterday for a walk near the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh before ambling down Leith Street towards the Omni centre – which houses one of the city’s biggest cinemas.

Do you know what Richard was doing in Edinburgh? Drop me a line at cara@deadlinescotland.co.uk

‘I don’t advise a haircut, man. All hairdressers are in the employment of the government. Hairs are your aerials. They pick up signals from the cosmos, and transmit them directly into the brain. This is the reason bald-headed men are uptight.‘
Whithnail and I 1986

Withnail & I – Bruce Robinson (1987)

One of the funniest movies ever made, the story of a single weekend in the company of a couple of unemployable actors living in bohemian squalor in Camden Town at the end of the sixties. Every line a winner, magnificent guest appearances from Richard Griffiths as ‘Uncle Monty’ and Michael Elphick as ‘the Poacher’. Richard E Grant declaiming from Hamlet to an audience of wolves in Regents Park zoo is a defining Shakespearean moment that would have made Burton and O’Toole proud.

This summer Harrison Ford returns in slightly more wrinkled form as Indiana Jones (& the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). What does the film have in common with upcoming releases Hellboy II, The Dark Knight, and the long-delayed second X-Files film?

They’re all sequels.

2007 was even more of a bumper year, with, oh let’s see, Spiderman 3, Die Hard 4, Harry Potter 5, Pirates of the Caribbean 3, Fantastic Four 2, The Bourne Ultimatum, Oceans Thirteen, and Shrek the Third. Of course, just because they’ve got a number in the title, doesn’t make them rubbish, but what makes sequels so sweet for investors and audiences?

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is being directed by Spielberg; that’s to be expected as it’s his baby. But it’s also generally true that sequels go to directors who proved their commercial viability on the original. Sam Raimi made both previous Spiderman films; Gore Verbinski directed the complete Pirates trilogy; Soderbergh’s stylish remake of Ocean’s Eleven won him the two follow-ups, and even Tim Story’s dubious success on The Fantastic Four apparently convinced studios he should make another.

That Warner Brothers entrusted Harry Potter 5 (and 6) to David Yates, a British director with only one other feature to his name, was a rare gamble in the big-budget film industry, whose fondness for sequels confirms a general reluctance to invest in the new.

Outside of the constantly evolving technology of film, firsts in mainstream movie-making are all too infrequent, both in terms of behind-the-camera talent, and narrative content. Proven formulas like the comic heist movie or the superhero angst-and-action film are the safest kind of investment in a notoriously unpredictable marketplace, and they’re made all the more appealing if helmed by a seasoned director who can be relied upon to bring in the film on time and on budget.

That means that Hollywood is a woefully neglectful parent of new filmmakers. At a press conference I went to for maverick director Ray Lawrence’s 2006 film Jindabyne, Gabriel Byrne lamented that “Hollywood doesn’t care about art, it’s only ever been about business”. This is not an overstatement. Of all the art-forms, film perhaps suffers most from the corrupting force of the slippery greenback, and with production costs for Spiderman 3 at over $258 million, it’s hardly surprising that few producers want to take risks.

Yet genuine originality begets cult status, which in turn promises sustained returns on the home entertainment front. Withnail & I bombed in cinemas but became a home video phenomenon. And the independent sector can be the first showcase for the visionaries on whose shoulders tomorrow’s sequels rest. The highly commercial Ocean’s franchise came from a man whose low-budget debut opened up the world of independent film-making in the U.S: Sex, Lies and Videotape (1989) was made on only $1.2 million (Batman, released the same year, cost $35m).

Soderbergh’s first film exemplifies the reckless charm that comes from being new and having nothing to lose. Sharon Waxman’s excellent ‘Rebels On The Backlot’ explores the revolutionary impact of Soderbergh and other “new rebel auteurs” of the 1990s, including Quentin Tarantino, Paul Thomas Anderson and Spike Jonze. Beginning their careers as Hollywood outsiders, their unexpected success forced even the most commercial of producers to keep a predatory eye on the independent scene. In response, studios set up canny sidelines throwing extra cash into quirky, low-budget scripts.

Twentieth Century Fox spawned Fox Searchlight, now with a slate of oddball hits to its name, including Garden State, Napoleon Dynamite, the Oscar-winning Little Miss Sunshine and Juno. Its competitor Warner Independent, established in 2003, claims in its mission statement – with a grandiose swagger typical of its parent company – to provide an outlet “where new talent can grow… where the conventional wisdom of tomorrow can first take shape”.

Of course such lofty idealism masks the studios’ simple drive for monopoly; a determination to squeeze every last profit, not only from the multiplexes, but also from the arthouse crowd. The intrusion of Fox and Warner into a domain cherished by enthusiasts as the only place where film can remain free of commercialism is certainly worthy of debate; Shane Danielsen, erstwhile curator of the Edinburgh Film Festival, argues we must now redefine what is meant by the term ‘independent film’ altogether.

But as long as the trend means groundbreaking films like We Don’t Live Here Anymore (Warner Independent, 2004) or Thirteen (Fox Searchlight, 2003) get made – both of which broke new ground in content and tone – then the studios’ new interest in film firsts could reap creative – not just commercial – rewards. And despite the ongoing slough of sequels, there are reasons to be hopeful. Compared to music or literature, film is still in its infancy but has proved precocious, developing in leaps and bounds since the Lumiere’s films of 1895. Hollywood may not be the best parent, but perhaps the best films are born in the wild.

UPDATE: News just in… Warner Independent to close! Oh dear. Good luck to the 30 or so projects currently in development there… Less depressingly, it makes Warner “the only major studio without a specialty division”.

THREE FIRST FILMS THAT BLAZED A TRAIL…

‘RESERVOIR DOGS’, the debut feature from a guy who’d previously worked at a Manhattan Beach video store; credited with changing the landscape of Hollywood.
A critic from the New York Daily News exclaimed, “I don’t think people were ready. They didn’t know what to make of it. It’s like the first silent movie when audiences saw the train coming toward the camera and scattered”.

‘MEMENTO’ – set a precedent in proving that unconventional narrative techniques didn’t necessarily equate with box office doom: with his irresistibly compelling first feature, UCL literature graduate Chris Nolan became the hottest property in L.A. He has since made ‘Batman Begins’ and its (!) sequel, starring the late Heath Ledger, ‘The Dark Knight’.

‘LES QUATRE CENT COUPS’ (The 400 Blows) – Francois Truffaut was banned from Cannes the year before this, his first film, won the Palme d’Or; as a belligerent film critic, he’d repeatedly slammed the studio-run conventions of post-war French cinema. A proponent of the ‘auteur’ theory of cinema, he became the leading light of the French New Wave.

This is a cult classic — one of those things you will always find in a student room along with ‘The Kiss’ by Gustav Klimt and ‘Midnight At The Cafe’ by Van Gogh. I tried to introduce my wife to it last night — something uniquely English and very funny. My DVD collection contained the film but I somehow managed to get fucked out of 500+ of them in some logistical nightmare involving the case which was in the care of some friends. I found it on Youtube and was happy that it was going to be a good copy — 14 parts laid out for my perusal. What happens? Every single section has a fault that cuts two minutes off the bloody thing making it impossible to watch it.

We got to see the sink — Fork It! And we got to see Danny and the Embalmer, even Uncle Monty came along for the party with his carrots. There was so much that we missed though and this is a film that should be devoured and poured over and quoted much more than the usual stand-by: Monty Python films. How many times can you here someone, other of course than the actors themselves, saying ‘He’s not the messiah, he’s a very naughty boy!’ and find it funny. Second hand humour wears thin.

Go out and find this movie — buy it! It’s cool.

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Now playing: Pearl Jam – Habit
via FoxyTunes