On exactly this day last year, I used a September Shorts to explore remakes. In the final line of the post I employ what my kid calls a "tutty-eyeroll"; that is, a sniffy, despairing and critical reference to something (as in 'Boris Johnson, eh?' tutty-eyeroll.) In the case of last year's post, my tutty-eyeroll was directed at a potential remake of The Princess Bride, which at the time was on the cards.

Yeah well more fool me because over the last couple of days I've rewatched the movie with my nine-year old and (*klaxon*) I've CHANGED MY MIND. That's right, I reckon TPB is ready for a remake. ​

Here's three broad reasons why, just to get us started:

1. By vocally opposing remakes we give the impression of being hopelessly devoted to the past, determined that culture should remain fixed. And we create canonical texts not based on their objective quality but on the fact they have a strong emotional resonance connected to our own childhoods. You can't touch that, we say. I loved it as a kid. Well your wasting you're time because...

2. Being a fan of a movie, book film or franchise does not give you a stake in it. You don't part-own TPB because you watched it incessantly in your early teens. Creators are free to do what they want with it. If you're a consumer and you don't like it - take your business elsewhere.

3. The remake doesn't erase the original. If you're so precious about the first version of the story, don't watch the second.

OK. Now four more reasons specific to The Princess Bride movie itself. My daughter really enjoyed the film, btw and I still love it dearly. But I have to admit, seeing it through her eyes, there are things that a remake could helpfully address.

4. "Buttercup doesn't do anything," my daughter observed, unprompted. "She just sits around." When the rodents attack in the fire swamp, she actually stood up and roared at the screen, "Do something! Help him!" as the princess cowered. Damn right, I thought. "Pass me that pitcher, farm boy" is about as assertive as she gets and that's in the opening five minutes, after which she's shuttled around, scooped onto horseback, ridden here and there and dragged running by the wrist. "But she's just one character," you might say. To which I say yeah but she's the title character.

5. TPB features an all-white cast in an all-white world. Not unusual for the eighties, but an opportunity waiting to be taken now. 

6. The sets are as shonky as hell. The cliffs of insanity look like something out of Tom Baker-era Dr Who. 

...and:

7. Mark Knopfler's soundtrack of parping synths and farting fanfares is rubbishy low-budget guff. And I'm speaking here as someone who had the OST on cassette tape and listened to it on his walkman while trying to sleep back in the day.

That's it - that's all I've got. So if you've perused the arguments above and find yourself simmering with barely contained contempt... well, fair enough each to their own and all that, I'm a big boy and I can take criticism.

​Join and orderly queue and send me your tutty-eyerolls. 

As part of this year's September Shorts I've asked writer friends to contribute posts inspired by the title One Cool Thing. They'll be telling you about one cool thing they're looking forward to as Autumn approaches. It might be a book or movie, a tabletop or computer game, an event or visit to a special place, a chance to achieve something... or perhaps even an exciting new project.
​
Today is the turn of the multi-talented Curtis Jobling, writer of the Wereworld novels as the Max Helsing series, as well as his extensive work on TV and film. What a guy! You can check out his website here.

​Curtis Jobling: Root

It's no secret I'm a bit of a tabletop boardgame obsessive, and lockdown provided my family with plenty of opportunities to play old favourites and new alike.

I've had ROOT on order since the beginning of the year, but believe it's been stuck in production limbo. Thankfully, it finally arrived this week, and we get to crack open the box as the dark nights set in.
​
It seems the perfect game for us to play this Autumn, set as it is in a woodland with its shifting seasons and factions competing with one another. It's for two to four players, and although the manufacturers suggest it's ages 10 and up, players have said 14 is a more reasonable age to get one's head around the rules. You take on the role of one of four groups, battling for dominion over the forest - the Maquise, the Eyrie, the Alliance and the Vagabonds - with game characters including cats, hawks, foxes, rabbits, lizards, raccoons and the like.
​
So put that boring old Monopoly set away, and check out something new. It really is something of a golden age for tabletop boardgames...

This is scattering of some of the 50 cards that come in Chuck Klosterman's Hypertheticals: 50 Questions for Insane Conversations. Can't say I've ever used these cards in the way the creator intended - not being one for that toxic combination of (a) dinner party and (b) parlour game - but I enjoy having this on my writing shelf nevertheless. It sits alongside Yorke's Into the Woods, Wendig's Damn Fine Story, King's On Writing and the wonderful Apple Cider Vinegar for Health by Britt Brandon.

One of those is a joke. (*pause - looks to camera*) Wouldn't waste my time with John Yorke's book in a million years.

So yeah Klosterman's Hypertheticals are tremendous fun. And rather then convince you through the power of badly-written prose, I thought I'd let the product speak for itself.

​Have a go at this one. It has a delightfully chilly feel to it, like its the beginning of a Roald Dahl short story:   

As part of this year's September Shorts I've asked writer friends to contribute posts inspired by the title One Cool Thing. They'll be telling you about one cool thing they're looking forward to as Autumn approaches. It might be a book or movie, a tabletop or computer game, an event or visit to a special place, a chance to achieve something... or perhaps even an exciting new project.
​
Today is the turn of Marie Basting, Associate Lecturer in Creative Writing at Manchester Met and author of the charmingly bonkers Princess BMX! You can check out Marie's website here.

​Marie Basting: Colour

One cool thing I am looking forward to this autumn is the colour. Amber leaves scrunching underfoot, the chestnut tree's orange canopy burning proud above and bracken turning rust, before returning to the earth, ready to restart nature’s cycle.

Autumn takes me back to my childhood. The smell of damp leaves and bonfires, sweet toffee apples that hurt your teeth and of course the slippery pavements as rain turned the trees' rich offering to mush.  I’d shuffle along behind my brother’s pram, staying close to the garden walls where the leaves sheltered, churning the sludge with my wellies while Mum called impatiently from the pelican crossing, warning me of the perils of hidden dog poo. There was always dog poo.

But that’s autumn, I guess. A mixed blessing that comes with a definite sting.  Rich hues dulling replaced by darkness; the early morning chill soon a bitter frost.

It won’t stop me looking forward to it though because I know this brief glimpse of colour is what gives me strength. What carries me through another winter until Spring brings new colours.

​New things to look forward to.

I'm an on-and-off listener to The Rewatchables, a podcast offering an irreverent and amusing dissection of an old movie each week.

Recently I was enjoying an episode exploring Tony Scott's final movie, Unstoppable. I love the film. It did OK business at the box office and garnered its fair share of critical praise but it was a runaway train disaster movie and as such, didn't much trouble the end-of-year lists back in 2010. So if you've never heard of it don't feel bad.

The episode's special guest was Quentin Tarantino, a huge fan of Unstoppable and of Tony Scott. Tarantino speaks at 100 miles an hour about most things film-related but he's operating at top-speed for much of the show, scattergunning stories, observations and analyses.

Here's what struck me. Tarantino described himself and Scott as polar opposites when it came to directing movies. I'm paraphrasing, but the gist was this: Tarantino described himself as a director. I shoot using a single camera, he explained. Every scene you see was composed by me. I framed and arranged it, I organised it and I shot it. Tony Scott, he goes on the say, is a selector. He shoots with five, six... nine cameras at once. Other people are shooting the footage. Scott is the genius who selects the results and cuts them together.

Director versus selector. An interesting distinction.

It made me think about fiction writing. Much as I'd like to be a director - much as I'd love to have everything staged and rehearsed scene-by-scene before the first keystroke - I just don't seem to be able to do it. I write tens of thousands of words that I don't use; scene after scene that might end up in a book but might not. My current project is 120,000 words' worth of prose so far. I still don't think I've got it anywhere near right yet.

It's exhausting, infuriating and discouraging. But I think it's about all I can do. I'm a selector, not a director. And I've gotta say, most days I wish it was different.