Brian Greer, ed. The Times Crossword, Book 1 (2000)

     Brian Greer, ed. The Times Crossword, Book 1 (2000) Doreen Fowlston gave me this, as well as Book 2, as a birthday gift. I must say that I find the Times crosswords a pain. I don’t mind obscure words, or thoroughly English (and dated) slang, for after all the puzzle is set for English solvers, not North American ones. But I do mind clues that depend on indirect and metaphorical links that aren’t clear until after you have the answer, and sometimes not even then. A fair percentage of the clues are apposite and witty, as well as difficult; but too many are merely mechanically generated rebuses, with far too much use of initials. IMO, a rebus on single letters in the answer must use proper, that is widely accepted, abbreviations. It’s a bit much when figuring out how the clue fits the answer is more of a puzzle than finding the answer. In almost every puzzle, there were clues that made no sense to me at all. All the same, I kept at it. In most cases, I found half or more of the answers on my own, including some whose cryptic clues made no sense, but which crossed enough letters that the definition was obvious. And that it was possible to solve a clue this way indicates how far-fetched and pointless some of the clues are. It didn't help that when the puzzle setter(s) alluded to American slang or catch phrases, they usually got them wrong.** (2006)

M. Greenberg et al, eds. Murder, My Dear Watson (2002)

     M. Greenberg et al, eds. Murder, My Dear Watson (2002) A nice collection of nicely done pastiches. As always, the trick is not so much to imitate the plots and stay within the canon as to capture the tone and above all the language of Doyle. Apart from a few glaring anachronisms, the writers have done an admirable job on all four counts. Good entertainment, and no doubt an Essential Work for all serious fans of Holmes and Watson. ** to *** (2006)

Ngaio Marsh. Grave Mistake (1978)

     Ngaio Marsh. Grave Mistake (1978) A gardener appears in a small village, and seems to be a paragon. A rich widow dies, apparently a suicide, and her unpleasant stepson sidles about snooping and prying. A very valuable stamp has been missing since the war, when its owner died when his train was bombed. Alleyn decides the lady’s death is murder. And the paragon turns out to be a psychopath. But all ends happily, with the lady’s daughter on her way to a happy marriage with a father-in-law who approves not only of her but also the lovely house in which he will be a frequent guest and no doubt a doting and conscientious grandfather. Marsh provides a nice helping of plot and character, and plays fair with the clues. What more could one ask? **½ (2006)

The Notebook (2004) (Movie Review)

     The Notebook (2004) [D: Nick Cassavetes. Ryan Gosling, Rachel McAdams, James Garner, Gena
Rowlands] Garner reads to his wife Rowlands from a notebook recounting the story of an unsuitable love match that ends happily. Sort of. Rowlands is suffering from dementia, and Garner hopes that reading the notebook will “bring her back.” It does, of course, for a few minutes, but the revelation that they are the couple in the notebook doesn’t surprise the audience, who has twigged to this when the first flashback appears on the screen.
     So we know how the story will turn out long before it reaches its first crisis. Why keep watching, then?  To find out how Nicholas Sparks, who wrote the source-novel, embellishes the tale, and how well the movie team does its job. The acting is very good throughout. The handful of awards won by this movie were all for the acting. The photography is always good and sometimes so good it distracts you from the story. Which may be a good thing, since the narrative rhythm is lackadaisical and slow.
      A shorter movie would have been better, I think. At any rate, there were a few places where I yielded to the temptation to yawn. Perhaps Cassavetes wanted to linger over the romantic moments to nudge our nostalgia into high gear. It’s a movie aimed at both the very young and the elderly, both of whom like to indulge in nostalgia, the young for what they haven’t experienced yet, and the old for what they wish they had experienced. Faux nostalgia, in other words.
     Like the curate’s egg, this movie is excellent in parts. The parts add up to less than a satisfying whole, however. I suspect the book reads better. *½

R. D. Wingfield Night Frost (1992)

 

R. D. Wingfield Night Frost (1992) A serial killer, a suspicious suicide, a missing girl who turns up dead, and Division Commander Mullet, a self-important prat who straightens his tie when he phones the Chief Constable to take credit for the work other people have done. Frost has a lot on his plate, but of course muddles through and comes up trumps. I recall this story from the video series. Complications include some nasty porn videos, a Det. Sergeant who yearns for promotion and despises Frost, assorted  suspects who divert attention, and the usual assemblage of damaged, hurt, vicious, pathetic, and merely decent and respectable people.

     The book is a workmanlike job. Wingfield’s bio says he preferred to work on radio and TV drama scripts, and it shows. Still, I kept turning the pages. I’ve read a couple other Frost novels, all of them only because I saw the TV series. 

     A re-read. A good entertainment. **

Blade Runner (1999) (Movie Review)

     Blade Runner (1999) [D: Ridley Scott. Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer, Sean Young. Based on Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?] This is the third or fourth time I’ve seen this movie. The first one was the original release, and I remember very little of it. Even this time I was surprised by a few details, and was once again impressed by the thorough design of the movie. Lighting, settings, artefacts, pacing of the scenes, repeated motifs, soundscape, characterisation: this is one of the best movies I’ve seen. Just whose is the single vision that informs and guides every aspect of this movie, I don’t know. It’s customary to credit the director, but this movies feels like an ensemble production. Everyone, from the actors to the most humble technician, subscribed to the same dystopic vision and elegiac ironies of the story.
    That story is well known. Deckard (Ford) must track down and kill four replicants that have come to Earth illegally in order to find some way to extend their built in self-destruct date. That’s enough to guarantee action, and the trick is to make this more than an action movie. Scott and his script writers managed that trick. The story raises serious questions about human rights. The replicants may be manufactured to specifications that natural humans can’t meet, but they are human in every other way.  Even Leon, a labourer type with limited insight, shows a completely human grief for his dead comrade, a grief that drives him to attack Deckard.
     Deckard does what he’s ordered to do, but he doesn’t like it. Maybe he suspects he’s a replicant himself (I think he is). Certainly Rachael (Young) is one. Maybe Deckard just doesn’t like killing people whose only crime is that they were made, not born. They are tools, instruments specially made for specialised jobs in environments where ordinary humans would be ineffective or likely to be killed before they earned the cost of  tranportation. They are the property of the Tyrell Corporation, the company that made them.
     Philip K. Dick’s story then is about the ethics of making artificial humans; or more generally, about demanding that humans shape themselves to suit a particular role they did not choose and which benefits someone else. What’s the difference between a biologically engineered worker and an educationally engineered one? Either way, the worker’s value consists in what he can perform as a tool or instrument. He has no inherent value as a human being. If some object such as a robot can do the work better or cheaper, the worker’s value is zero.
     A great movie, and a great story of ideas. It’s to Scott’s credit, and his team’s, that abstract ideas have been transformed into a story of individual experience and actions that embody those ideas. ****

Ngaio Marsh. Spinsters in Jeopardy (1953)

     Ngaio Marsh. Spinsters in Jeopardy (1954) On a trip to the French-Italian border area for a summer holiday with his family, Alleyn happens to see what appears to be a murder as he looks out of the train window. A fellow passenger falls ill, and Alleyn arranges for emergency treatment at the same chateau at which he, perhaps, saw the murder. His son Ricky is kidnapped; a mysterious cousin of Troy’s turns out to be a surprise, and the drug trade and international police co-operation all figure in an entertainment that doesn’t reach Marsh’s usual level of subtle characterisation, but does serve to pass some time pleasantly enough. ** (2006)