The Green Router

This is probably going to be the point where all my planning can be seen to have gone out the window, other than as a memorandum of the characters and plot line of the original to ensure I don't lose sight of what the story was about.
I've already decided that the reader should know at this point that they'll never see Luke alive again, but thats partly because I want to set a bookmark for when Hans felt guilty about his treatment of Luke.
But the variations from the original will be coming thick and fast, now, and I'm also finding a number of uses for a major new character I introduced, Hans' old cop buddy, Ed Doran, who'll help me get around a number of problems I had with the original.

Unless I either need to do a major rethink if I've allowed the plot to run away with things, for the foreseeable future I'll be planning 'on the fly', according to scene dictates, although I'll be making sure that the characters are true to themselves

Decisions, Decisions

I've already decided to inform the reader in advance of the last time Hans was to see Luke alive. In the original his death was a shock, but not completely so, given Hans' restless sleep.
I'm considering the various ways that Luke's body could be discovered, and the consequences for Hans.
And also, then, how to introduce the Assistant DA into the story, if I stray too much from the original plot

Flashback, and new characters

I was never happy with the way the relationship with the client was detailed in the original so I've introduced a flashback section in Chapter Three, which had originally been handled partly by way of exposition, and partly by way of follow-up phone call from client.
I'm also introducing two new characters in this chapter: one, an ex New York cop buddy of Hans, who recommends him for the job; and secondly, Van Buren's loyal secretary
I may decide later on to move this Chapter to the beginning of the novel because as much as I don't care for detailed expository sections, neither am I much of a fan of flashbacks.
But at the moment I don't think this flashback section will upset the flow of the novel too much.

I'm conscious of the fact, also, that, although I still have the plot of the original novel in my head, and the scene and character details, this may only be the first of a number of deviations from the original.
I'm also conscious, though, of the need to finish each chapter with the reader wanting more

Finally started writing the novel project

Wrote my first 1,000 words on September 22nd, and have now passed the 3,000 mark, keeping up with my target of just over 1,000 words per day.
In preparation I had printed out in advance scene and character notes and sumaries, and my tactic is to merely scan these in advance of writing a scene and to 'go with the flow'.

I'm conscious, however, of the fact that the original had perhaps too much long expository paragraphs in the first two chapters, so I've made a deliberate decision to trim that substantially, with the aim of speeding up the story, while at the same time giving just enough information to maintain interest.
Noting the word count as I'm approaching the end of the original's second chapter, and I've just noted, with considerable surprise, that I'm already 1,000 words down on the original word count, although I haven't quite completed the second chapter.

That, in itself, doesn't concern me as I'm very happy with the tense confrontational dialogue-heavy scene I have created for Chapter Two's big scene, and I can always flesh it out, later on, but it probably also means that I'll have to either create additional scenes, or characters, or compensate in later chapters.
Its also just been brought to my attention that the original's word count of 43,000 is not only short of the generally accepted minimum of 50,000 words, but also falls a long way short of the 70,000 average for first novels

Akira Kurosawa's 'Stray Dog'

This shot is taken from the climactic scene where Mifune's character confronts the thief who stole his gun.
(the characters are just visible, - in this reduced image,- standing between trees in the middle background)
The girl had been playing the piano in the front room of her home and had been startled by a gunshot sound.
Its not too clear here, - the BFI print isn't the best but I don't think they were in early post WWII Japan, or, at least, not very well maintained, - but the scene is set in a misty early morning and parts of the scene reminded me of the climactic scene from Joseph H. Lewis' noir Masterpiece, 'Gun Crazy'.

I think 'Stray Dog' is probably my favourite of Kurosawa's three great contemporary crime dramas, - 'Drunken Angel' and 'High and Low' being the others.
The latter film is a stunning tour-de-force, but I think 'Stray Dog's wonderful blend of the intimate, poetic, and the neo-realist shade it for me

Ten Great Shots From Favourite B & W Movies

Nowadays if a director films in black and white he tends to be considered pretentious, or self-consciously arty.
Of course, up until, I think, the late 1930s pretty much every movie was made in black and white so the distinction didn't arise.

I remember looking forward to getting our colour television and seeing more and more of our favourite films and series in colour, but nowadays perhaps the majority of my very favourite films were filmed in black and white: in fact, Alfred Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' is the only one of my all-time Top 10 films which was shot in colour.
Which inspired this idea.

But, as a comparison, I'll also post 10 favourite colour film shots: not necessarily the most painterly beautiful, or aesthetically pleasing, but impressive shots

DVD of Chereau's production of Wagners 'Ring' cycle

Watched the entire set over 4 nights, - excluding Sunday, - from Thursday 27th May through the following Monday, and right now I'm only looking forward to watching and enjoying it again.
What quickly struck early on in my viewing of the first of the four opera of the cycle, 'Das Rheingold', was just about how much fun it is.
Of course opera was far more the 'mass entertainment' for contemporary audiences than the 'elitist' art form it is these days, and Wagner, perhaps more than any pre-20th Century composer, helped to foster this notion among 20th, and 21st Century audiences.

Musically, for the most part, the stereotypical doom-laden power chords are all pervasive, - although 'Siegfried' music is for the most part a gentler, more lyrical score as befits the initial optimism attaching to the doomed hero, - but while this befits its grand, and ultimately tragic, theme, the score is composed of many layers, and many moods.

Theatrically, I thought I detected many sources, or resonances in this production: sources, Grimms Fairy Tales; Grand Guignol horror; pantomime villains, while it seems to have influenced Brecht, German Expressionism, and probably any number of operatic composers that followed.
(admittedly Chereau's version is considered a fresh and revolutionary take so what I detected may not have been part of Wagner's original vision)

As befits an operatic 'cycle' much of what followed 'Das Rheingold' linked back to it, and eventually came full cycle, in the climactic final opera, 'Gotterdamerung'.

Apparently, 'The Ring' is composed of a large number of intricately and meticulously constructed 'motifs' so its construction and musical brilliance can better be appreciated when one is armed with these details.

I think I'll delay studying that until my 4th, or 5th viewing of the Cycle.
Right now, there's far too much to derive from viewing it as sheer ENTERTAINMENT genius!

Wagner's 'Ring' Cycle (of Opera)

I seem to be on something of an 'art' kick at present, following on from Bergman's 'Faith' trilogy of films.
Perhaps both are a necessary counterpoint to the rash of crime novels and pulp fiction stories that I read in the previous two weeks.
But, which or whether, I've just decided to watch my Patrice Chereau DVD box-set of 'The Ring', ideally over four consecutive nights
(I'm not sure whether that is the preferred approach by Wagner groupies and afficionados).

Up until 20 years or so ago Wagner was only ever about 'The Ride of the Valkyries' for me, from that famous scene in 'Apocalypse Now', and the notion of 'Wagnerian doom'.
That is until I was living in London in the early 1990s, and got to hear live broadcasts of various of the opera, courtesy of BBC Radio Three.
Although doomladen chords predominated, I was pleasantly stunned by the great beauty of much of the work.

I didn't manage to catch the entire cycle during those BBC broadcasts, but I heard enough to shell out on two complete CD sets; one studio, and one live production
(at the time,the most acclaimed live prouduction, by Karl Bohm)

To date, though, I've yet to listen to the entire work, never mind over an abbreviated, and consecutive, period of time.
I subsequently acquired a number of other Wagner operas, - and opera by the two other giants of the musical form, Verdi and Mozart, - but I think 'Parsifal', which I have listened through completely a number of times, may be his most beautiful piece of work, musically speaking.

This viewing, and listening, I see as not just an opportunity to see one of the acclaimed theatrical productions of 'The Ring', but possibly as a preliminary step to attending a complete Ring cycle staging, - whether at Bayreuth, London's Covent Garden, or some other World Opera House equipped to do it full justice.

As for Patrice Chereau himself: up until a couple of years ago I had never heard of him, never mind his production of 'The Ring'; what led me to him was that while browsing the internet for DVD bargains, I noted that he had made a film, 'Gabrielle', which is based on a story by one of my favourite fiction-writers, Joseph Conrad; I watched the film shortly after purchase, which is a mark of how much I was looking forward to it, - and immediately loved it.
Which caused me to seek out more Chereau films.

Which brings me, full circle, to 'The Ring'

The Silence [Bergman 'Faith' Trilogy, 3 of 3)

Ingmar Bergman does 'Invaders From Mars'? - :its not as improbable as it might seem, particularly in the first half of the film, with its significant emphasis on the child's sense of wonderment and awe, a perspective heightened by the various long shots, overhead shots, and of long-distance tracking shots down a hotel corridor, a la 'The Shining'.

This isn't so much Bergman the Austere, as Bergman the Enigmatic, or of the lover of theatre.

In its enigmatic, and even occasionally surreal nature its more in keeping with the type of art-house director, then in vogue, such as Antonioni, and even reminds me of Polanski, of his wonderful early shorts and later films such as 'Cul De Sac', 'Repulsion' and 'The Tenant'.
(and, for the scenes in the train, perhaps a nod or two to 'The Phantom Carriage')

I suspect also in its central theme of the two very different sisters, and how they vie for the attention, and affection, of the son of the more sensual sister, Anna, its something of a pointer towards one of his great Masterpieces, 'Persona', as one often gets the sense of them being two sides of the same coin, and almost of certain elements of their personalities being interchangeable.

I love the way he also portrays the hotel where the sisters seek temporary refuge as some kind of hermetically-sealed environment: outside there is commotion, and vibrant street sounds, and suggestions of imminent warfare; inside there is chamber music and careful whispers.

Although the performances of Ingrid Thulin as the sickly Ester, and Gunnel Lindblom as Ana are never less than competent, this is more of a directors films, aided and abetted by his cinematographer lieutenant and his particular box of tricks.
I won't claim, as with say Bob Dylan's more obscure lyrics, to understand the significance of every shot, or even scene, but its a smorgasbord, enhanced rather than diminished by Bergman's frequent abrupt changes of pace and tone

Winter Light [Bergman 'Faith' Trilogy, 2 of 3)

The title seems to be a more aptly chosen one than the literal translation, 'The Communicants', of the Swedish title.
Despite the beauty of this, and a number of other shots, Nykvist's cinematography here isn't as artistic as in 'Through a Glass Darkly', but I'm sure that was a deliberate choice of director and cinematographer
I think this one shot, though, might be considered a perfect summation of what the film is all about, and so its perhaps appropriate that its an especially artistic one.

The film is essentially about a 'crisis of conscience' of the pastor, magnificently played, as always, by Gunnar Bjornstrand; the effect of his self-doubt on his parishioners, and the way the people who most care about him help him to re-affirm his faith.

I'm aware that Bergman's father was a pastor and that he had a difficult relationship with him, perhaps for most of his life, but I wonder to what extent the portrait of the pastor both in this film and the altogether different, but frequently magical, 'Fanny and Alexander' is a portrait of his father.
As with his fellow-Scandinavian, Dreyer, with whom he is often compared, I still felt there was a certain degree of playfulness on his part, among the almost prevalent austerity and bleakness.

As the title suggests, the light of Winter is a weak and bleak one, and the chill is not only an external one, but I felt certain elements of the pastor's musings, and especially the sacristan's climactic 'enlightenment' had more than a little element of knowing humour, and the film's all the better for it.

Bergman really stretches his troupe of actors here and they meet the challenge head-on: Ingrid Thulin's expressive face gives an acting tour de force during an extended 6 minute long close up, which, in a different way, reminded me of Dreyer's early Masterpiece, 'The Passion of Joan of Arc'.

Its not one of the greatest of Bergman's films, but in its own quiet, understated way, it is a great film.
And whats most impressive is the way Bergman sucks you in, particularly in those riveting prolonged close-ups, when his often funereal pacing would scupper many lesser directors

Through A Glass Darkly [Bergman 'Faith' Trilogy, 1 of 3)

What struck me more than anything on this my second viewing of 'Through A Glass Darkly' was the stunningly beautiful cinematography of Sven Nykvist.

Certainly Harriett Andersson's astonishing performance draws most of the plaudits, and rightfully so as it compares favourably with the best of the performances by the more acclaimed Liv Ullmann, but given that she is the emotional core of the film, the film, ultimately, will live or die depending on the viewer's reaction to it.
But Nykvist's use of light and shade, particularly in the indoor scenes, and most of those involving Andersson, helps create a world of alternately bleak and serene beauty.
When I first saw it, almost 20 years ago, I considered it to be the quintessence of Bergman for its bleakness and emotional intensity, but, the quality of the Criterion DVD print helps to better place it in its proper, fully drawn relief, as my previous viewing was of a somewhat sub-standard vhs recording from a television broadcast.

Gunnar Bjornstrand's less showy performance provides the perfect contrast to Andersson's; although Max Von Sydow is the most identified of the male Bergman stars,-perhaps because of his international roles, - for me Bjornstrand is consistently head and shoulders above all the others, as he is here.
I don't actually believe I've seen him in an English Language film, but I have good cause to believe that he could have eked out a very lucrative career as a character actor.

Interesting, in light of the comparisons I'm making with Wallander is that Sydow here looks remarkably like the actor who played Lina's father in the most recent 'Wallander' episode I saw: about the missing chorister

Wallander, and Swedish Society,.....and Bergman,.....

I've become something of a fan of the Swedish crime drama series, 'Wallander', - the original, Swedish production that is, - and, watching the latest episode last night, about a missing chorister, I once again mused over what the series various storylines might say about modern Swedish society, if it is indeed it was part of the author's intent to comment on modern-day Swedish society.

I've also often thought it would be interesting to compare and contrast with what I see as the closest it has to a British counterpart, - 'Inspector Morse'.

But I've also wondered what, if anything, the Swedish society of 'Wallander' has in common with the Sweden of Ingmar Bergman cinema, - particularly of the mature Bergman period, from, say, 'Wild Strawberries' onwards.

Which is why I've now decided to give his acclaimed 'Faith' trilogy of films another viewing.

As its often felt that this trilogy best reflects the essence of Bergman

Link to my Top 1,000 Films List

http://spreadsheets.google.com/pub?key=tvB_lKZc0D_oOCMakEPBw8Q&output=html

I Love The Night

Scan of the cover of my writing project: currently finalising character notes