A sort of film review…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s walrus is the lithe one that plays a lot of ping-pong.

I watched a film last night that I had recently recorded from BBC TV; it was Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997) (a very nice title!) with a couple of really good actors in it, John Cusack and Kevin Spacey, they don’t usually appear in rubbish.
It started off pretty well and seemed to be about some spooky odd-ball people and strange goings-on down south in misty swampy Savannah Georgia; there was some voodoo stuff in there too. After the first few minutes I decided that it was probably going to be watchable; it had an air of tension, creepiness, and impending unpleasantness about it which drew me in. Oh dear, what is store for poor young Mr Cusack? It doesn’t bode well for him… Mind you, early on there was a short scene with a fat voodoo lady in dark clothes sitting on a park bench (accompanied by a squirrel) who, on seeing an aeroplane passing overhead, was provoked into laughing uproariously to herself for no apparent reason. That naffness took the edge off the tension a bit…
The film got into its flow and introduced us to the many characters and hinted at creepy strangeness and the danger to come, but one couldn’t quite get the feel of where the story was going. I found myself talking to the TV screen, ‘Well, come on then – get on with it!…’
So what was the gist of the thing? Well, there was voodoo, a journalist, some gun-waving, a feisty transvestite show girl, a dollop of homosexuality, a murder, a trial, dark midnight doings in the graveyard with the old lady, a visit to the morgue in dead of night – oh, and a few ‘wacky characters’ slotted in for Southern ‘colour’ – a chap walking an invisible dog, and a chap (member of the trial jury) with imitation buzzing flies on wires sticking out of his jacket and a vial of deadly poison in his pocket…
It was a good two-and-a-half hours long, without adverts, and ended in an almost embarrassingly predictable scene with the ghost of the murder victim materialising on the axminster in front of the now dying murderer… I spoke out loud to the TV again, ‘Well,’ I said, ‘that looked so promising, but it turned out to be slow, over long, and eventually it dwindled away to nothing… what happened to all the tension and menace that was hinted at?… I wonder who directed it?’
The credits started rolling… ‘Directed by Clint Eastwood’… Doh!… He should have stuck with being that emotionless right-wing trigger-happy psychopath Dirty Harry of his youth, instead of messing about with directing… Still, I suppose that when you are as rich as he his you can do anything that takes your fancy…
Not quite a wasted evening though, at least I got another blog post rant out of it…

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in art, brain, drama, Film, Grumpiness, humour, information, story, style, TV and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to A sort of film review…

  1. I’ve read the book – can’t imagine how they’d film it – not very well by the sounds of it.

  2. claradoodles says:

    Thouroughly good review. If it comes on again with one of these plus2ODplus4ExtraOD Channels, I’ll make sure to miss it. 😀

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