Here, ol' Unattendees, to celebrate my love for you all, is a tree giving a little house a hug. Sorry I haven't been posting more, but I am once again between keyboards (in case you were wondering, this post has been compiled entirely from copying and pasting parts OF ITSELF) but this hardware situation should be resolved when I get back from France, pictured above – where I have, as always, been spending Christmas with my folks – and below is the advert that will pay for it:
I might even have enough left over after to take a show to Edinburgh, something I haven't dared do since 2001. Guess which show. "I don't know, Simon. How many shows have you made?" Well exactly, that one. Although, thinking on the previous post, I amgrowing obsessed(again*) with how abysmal a part of real world,far right economic discourse beloved, old sci-fi tropes such as space exploration and Ai have become, so maybe it will be two shows! Maybe it will be none! No, I've written it down now (or pains-takingly pieced it together from individual characters torn from THIS VERY POST)and 2025 islikely to frighten a lot ofus anyway, so nits like me, who are sitting pretty pretty, should give courage a go too! Happy... changing things, then. Yeah. No. Franceuck it. Happy 2025, readers. Happy Change.
Vancouver last August, where this ad was filmed – along with many futuristic sci-fi shows from the noughties, meaning I'd wanted to visit this city for decades. But when I finally get there, everywhere else had caught up, and the biggest thingdistinguishing this Pacific shoreline now from, say, Leeds or Chelsea Wharf is just the number of people to a canoe.
* Did you get that that was what "Time Spanner" was about? I mean, it was about other stuff too.
"Pound as in the pounding of these zammoths' feet?"
"What zammoths? The ones to our right?"
"The ones I'm pointing at. Well, yeah, those ones, okay. God. So I wasn't exactly pointing at them. But yeah. God."
"No. Pounds as in insert-national-currency-here. The future has no regulated currency."
"Oh, and air?"
"No. And no zammoths. They're hallucinations. This planet's atmosphere is too thin. We're dying of radiation sickness."
"Speak for yourself. My body's packing in because it doesn't know how to function on a planet that has only a third of Earth's gravity. Hey, where are those guys going?"
The problem with trying to write a post a day while simultaneously performing in Love Goddess is not that there's a risk I'll run short of material, but that I'll never write about anything else. Here's yet more Orson Welles.
Welles by Welles
In 1955 the BBC invited Welles to record six fifteen-minute-long, occassionally illustrated, improvised monologues on the subject of his life thus far. These he used to – as he himself put it in episode two – weave theatrical legends, meaning a lot of "Orson Welles' Sketchbook" consists of anecdotes, and a lot of those anecdotes are pretty apocryphal, if not completely made up on the spot, and that's a tremendous shame really because the work discussed is so interesting in its own right. I'd love, for example, to hear Welles' account of the work that went into making his directorial debut in Harlem, but I've next to no interest in a tacky anecdote about a supposedly imported coven of witch doctors making cursed, goat-skin drums.
Or, as in episode above, I'd love to hear him discuss the influence his hoax-news radio adaptation of "War of the Worlds" might have had on both the entire broadcast medium and his own later work ("Citizen Kane" famously opens with a fake news reel) but I'm less interested in the influence it might have had on John Barrymore's dogs... Welles would be so much more interesting if he didn't try so hard to be interesting, and the genuine achievement of "The Martian Broadcast" has been completely overshadowed by the legend of a country sent mad spun around it. Am I being a snob? He probably understood his audience better than I do.
And yet, even as he makes this shit up, Welles relates how "fed up" his company had been with the credulity of listeners to "this new magic box... So in a way our broadcast was an assault on the credibility of the machine... We wanted people to understand that they shouldn't swallow everything that came from the tap."
"The
freighter that picks me up from the Ice flow is manned by tall silver
men with long waterproofs, square heads but aquiline profiles, smooth
black dishes for ears and receding chrome spirals on the head. Maybe the
cube swivels to accomodate the face. Anyway a nice kind image. THE
GOOMB-MEN"
I don't know where I got the name "Goomb" from, but they stayed with me. I tried to put them in a Mitchell And Webb sketch later that year (it was never filmed, maybe I submitted it too late), and I was still contemplating casting them as saviours in some children's book or other until today, when I was knocked sideways to see this image pop up on pinterest:
This is a two-headed Martian from the Twilight Zone story "Mr. Dingle the Strong", an episode I have no recollection of ever seeing. Their heads aren't exactly cubes, and their ears aren't exactly dishes, and
their antennae aren't exactly spirals, but that's the Goomb alright, right down to their
cheekbones. The clincher for me is that, while I describe them as "silver" in the notebook, I actually dreamt them in black and white.
Emailing that sketch to Gareth Edwards back in December 2009, I wrote:
"Hopefully you might find some joy – far too late as it is – in
this sketch about aliens I mentioned ages ago, and then didn't write
because it seemed you had loads about aliens, and now have written
simply because it might turn out to be the very-odd-but-actually-useable
sketch I have so far failed to produce."
And now UPDATE (April 27th 2023) It looks like it might actually be used now! All hail the Goomb...
Another canal. Maybe you can imagine how much Angus McKie's artwork for Rondò Veniziano's 1983 album "Venice In Peril" blew the mind of a young boy rifling
through records in WHSmith, although I didn't know it was called that back then, and having my mind blown by
album art was literally the only reason I rifled through records in
WHSmith in the eighties. Click to enlage if you like, but don't blame me if you never come back, and here's another.
I've just started watching Dennis Potter's Casanova: its scenes of an imprisoned writer suffering pornographic flashbacks and raging against his cellmates are very reminiscent of The Singing Detective, but its sumptious and creepy Venetian exteriors are giving me welcome flashbacks of my own, specifically to how powerful a role some idea of this city played in my childhood imagination. The mad cover art on a Rondò Veniziano record is probably what started it.
A decade after "Venice In Peril" was released I would have my first ever pizza (I was scared of cheese) and, as I've written before, I chose a Veniziana because for every one ordered Pizza Express would pay "a discretionary 25p" to the "Venice In Peril fund" and I still hadn't been. In the end Venice did not disappoint, but that discretionary 25p would never change in value over the next three decades of my ordering Venizianas. Then, last weekend, I went to the Pizza Express in Paddington basin and found out it was no longer on the menu. I asked why. Apparently Pizza Express no longer has the necesary sultanas. I blame Brexit. How are we going to pay for that spaceship now?
Still in space, The ? Motorist (as I knew it back in the nineties when I was making my rounds of the Museum Of the Moving Image, where it used to play on a loop) is a film about a car made when both inventions were in their infancy, and has the narrative pace and logic of a toddler playing with a new toy, but one can still enjoy with clarity over a century later the surprising precision and ingenuity gone into realising something this stupid on film: Sixty seconds in and we've already run over a policeman, driven up the side of a building, and landed on a cloud. It's only when we reach Handover Court that the pace starts to drag. It's an odd lacuna, that court scene. You start trying to read lips. Who's on trial? Why are their eyebrows so big? I pondered these questions so intently I completely missed the transformation into a horse-and-carriage.
I met Gemma this evening, who's currently having to teach the Theatre of the Absurd. I realised she's one of the best teachers I know and among other things we talked about how, when playing someone simply doing a job, questions about motivation and even audibility don't actually have to apply. I suggested silent movies probably did us a favour by freeing drama from text, and showing how great an actor you could still be without an audience necessarily understanding what you were saying. The Handover Court scene in The ? Motorist is not a great an example of that.
Otherwise the film's a little masterpiece, and thanks to David Cairns for reminding me of it, and also for alerting me to its sequel which has a robot in it.
It was in those small hours, the sleepless hours, tending the Sentient Wurtlizter Node long beyond her command, that Zimogen Fingertickler could feel her late husband by her side, or possibly just the ghost of someone dressed as her late husband, he was tickling her finger whoever he was.
"Tell me... Zenneth, was it? We mut do something about that name... Do you like my Mister Blisters? I've just had them fitted. I know blister mist is not to everyone's taste – Hush! – Ignore Nillson and Bucky, they're just muscle..."
Grey skies as I write this. Finally. The kind of darkness visible that turns all light golden. Here are a couple of frames from Ian Hubert's Dynamo Dream.
I've saved this post for a rainy day. Two years ago I shared Hubert's glorious, minute-long tutorials in how to conjure a city out of nothing, but this is the proper fruit of his time and talents. In the year since Episode One : Salad Mug went out, television shows with bottomless pockets like The Sandman, Foundation and Rings of Power have produced similarly breath-taking scenery for characters to stand around and talk slowly in – and maybe in another year it will seem quaint I was so blown away by this – but I don't think any of the big shows has yet managed to match for imagination, care, or life, the twenty-one and a half minutes of this solo passion project. Isn't it amazing what they can do these days? Hasn't it always has been? That's also part of the thrill of it. Put this on the biggest screen you've got.
Seguéing from Stooky Bill to Lembit Öpik is a cheap shot I know, but the Space Nation of Asgardia broadcast its first ever Live Weekly Q&A with the Chairman of Parliament over a month ago now, and I've been meaning to record minutes of it on here ever since. The questions potentially raised about the founding of an international space community may be more pertinent now than ever. Also, today is the founder's birthday! Happy Birthday Dr. Igor! Also I've been bingeing For All Mankind (and I've been trying to binge Foundation, but there are so many space guns!) So let's go...
00:00 – Live stream countdown starts.
10:04 – We begin not with the Q&A but an absolutely must-see promotional film. If you don't already know what Asgardia is this might not be the best introduction, so just to bring newcomers up to speed...
As first explained back in this post, the "dream driven space nation" is currently just a memory stick with its own national anthem, orbiting the Earth, whose "Head of Nation" and "Chairman of Parliament" –
former missile tycoon Doctor Igor Ashurbeyli, and former Liberal Democrat MP and
Cheeky Girl consort Lembit Öpik– are now keen to organize, among other
things, the first ever child born in zero gravity.
Obviously this enterprise raises some interesting questions, such as what might drive this new nation's economy? Well we now have an answer: Franchising! Really, the promo is quite something.
Now let's meet Opik...
12:04 - Q&A with the Chairman of Parliament begins! There's no sound. However it's hard to tell if anyone knows this. There's also no Chairman of Parliament.
None of these people is Lembit Opik.
13:39 – We have sound! But still no Chairman. It's not really clear if it's started. Some people are still trying to find the link.
15:29 – This flashes up for a second some reason:
...Which is fun.
15:30 – "Who's going to start the meeting?" Still no Chairman. Maybe Lembit missed the new time. There are Asgardians all around the world and it must be genuinely hard to arrange a globally convenient window: "This hour is not popular for many others." (By the way, despite it seeming to be the first language of absolutely noone pesent,
everyone is speaking English which is really appreciated.) Is it possible to contact Mr. Lembit? "A warning, maybe?"
16:21 – "Don't worry. We're going to send the security people to go and get him. Give me a minute," jokes an unseen "Aida M." It's all very good humoured. I don't wish to misrepresent this. Asgardian Mayoral candidate Ferda Inan suggests that migh have been an Agents of Shield reference, possibly for the record. More logging on. Everyone starts comparing their climates.
18:36 – Clearly unable to conact Lembit, the Chair of the Executive Committee Salvos Mouzakitis logs back on to get the ball rolling. (I've no idea what all these titles mean.) SESSION BEGINS!
Salvos really seems to know what he's talking about, so this all gets a bit harder to follow, but here are the topics covered:
18:45 – A hundred and forty four amendments to the Asgardian Constitution have been proposed at a recent summit of the "Supreme Space Council". No amendment was rejected on the grounds of not being liked it, only if it were deemed "non-constitutional". Salvos praises the professional focus of the four members of the Supreme Space Council who turned up – ("I didn't expect it, to be honest") – but he doesn't have the results of their vote because he's on holiday.
23:24 – There is to be a meeting of the Asgardian Legislative Forum on the twenty sixth. Salvos will attempt to participate again, at least in part, but he is still meant to be out of office, and is really beginning to piss off his wife. "I am in danger, real danger that my wife will divorce me," and his wife is a lawyer. Among topics up for discussion at the forum will be the decentralisation of Asgardia, as the franchising plan has hit a snag it seems: Apparently China is turning out knock-offs. 25:00 – That's really all Salvos can bring to the table right now, as Lembit still hasn't shown up and he hadn't prepared to chair this meeting, so the floor is given to Ferda Inan.
25:28 – Ferda was hoping for more gossip. Salvos says he wants to wait for Lembit. Ferda has no more questions and returns the floor to Salvos. "Thank you."
26:29 – Chair of the Foreign Affairs Committee Seref Kaplan has a question: Can we have subtitles? Salvos segues onto the topic of the translations, in particular the – understandably stretched – but
sloppy translations being provided in the lead up to Asgardia's
forthcoming constitutional elections. To further complicate matters, mistakes have been spotted in the English originals, "Head of Government" and "Head of Nation" being used interchangeably, for example, when these are entirely separate pillars of Asgardian Government, and differentiating between them will prove vital if the Asgardian electorate is to determine what either of them eventually
mean.
An announcement is expected from Lembit when the first Asgardian books are to be appear.
A succesful Persian translation of the Asgardian consitution has now been completed by "Navid".
31:08 – Tax law. Salvos is personally not in favour of Asgardian taxes as Asgardians aleady pay taxes in their native countries (and presumably because Asgardia doesn't actually do anything yet – also isn't there a joining fee?) If there are to be taxes however, Salvos prefers taxing gross profit rover net because it's less work.
33:43 – Once Asgardia leaves zoom and physical sittings resume, "Fernando" has proposed rotating the countries in which these take place. Salvos loves travelling, but of course there are visa considerations and also not everyone can afford it. Basic stuff, cooly considered.
35:20 – Fernando has also suggested the Asgardian website could be improved.
36:20 – MP Bridget. She proposes Canada for a physical sitting: "They tend to have much lower standards from what I'm aware of as far as entry into their nation." I'm guessing Bridget's from America, although from my own personal gap year experiences I can tell you she's not wrong.
She also suggests free language classes as a perk for Asgardian residents. Apparently there are plans afoot for an official Asgardian Academy.
39:22 – Seref has the floor again. He has uploaded a Turkish translation of the constitution to the website, but just wants everyone to know it's not a translation of the most recent version. Seref is very on board with Bridget's free langauage class idea. They could might a real draw. Or even just a separate enterprise, open to non-residents. He also proposes Turkey for the physical sittings, especially if it's off season.
44:45 – Salvos expresses doubts about how easy it will be to get a lecturer to give regular language classes for free, but would love to go to Istanbul.
47:33 – Ferda again. Apparently nobody should worry about how the Academy will be funded, and volunteers are welcome to upload educational videos to it. Salvos suggests preparing a promotional intro: "Make it nice." (Was Ferda behind the Asgardian promo?) Ferda: "Done already." Salvos: "Really? Great!" Ferda: "Why not?" I couldn't hear the topic chosen for the Academy's first lecture. Visas?
50:35 – Aida M has the floor: Not all countries have the internet. Could these classes be put onto a video or CD and posted out? Also not all countries speak English. Also either you've got to pay people or not. Also Aida has been asking for a while for sign language translations.
53:26 – Aida still has the floor but this has flashed up for a couple of seconds:
Some absolute crackers there.
53:50 – Salvos supports Aida's proposal and recognises how vital accessibility must be for the Asgardian
project to succeed. However, he points out there are as many different
sign langauges as there are spoken languages. "That's going to be a problem."
56:15 – Ferda says that sign languages aren't actually too varied. It's more like an accent thing.
58:30 – Aida says you have to start somewhere. There seems a general consensus then that "English" sign language will be something to look at. (The inverted commas are my own because I'm not sure British and American Sign languages are the same.) Salvos will bring this up with Lembit.
59:40 – Apparently there's a lot of talk happening in the chat about going to Canada. Salvos does not necessarily support it. I get the impression he's spent quite a lot more time on here than he meant to. Session ends. "Adios, amigos."
Lembit remained a no show, but two days later recorded the video at the top of this post.
Interrupting the blog silence to repost – almost belatedly (we open tonight) - the following message from Magnitsky the Musical's award-wining whimsyist Robbie Hudson (pictured above):
It’s the end of the world and it will be hilarious. The Official
Mighty Fin will have a 20th birthday next year. And so this year: Listen & Often, in association with TallTales, proudly presents:
ROBOTS!
by Robert Hudson and Susannah Pearse
It’s a rehearsed reading of a new comic musical for Radio 4. In other
news, Radio 3, which is focused on the classics, has commissioned a new
version of The Mighty Fin’s 2019 smash hit, Hall of Mirrors. Both these shows are recording in January, which means it’s impossible to do a fully-produced show now. But ROBOTS! will
be a joyful return to Waterloo’s delightful and incredibly convenient
Network Theatre (Surprising Tunnel! Jolly Bar! Bins!) and Charles
and the Technical Unit will do a special effect but they won’t tell us
what it is yet.
Seriously, though, we have really missed live theatre, this will be as
much fun as we can possibly make it, and it will be lovely to see you.
Book tickets at www.ticketsource.co.uk/listenandoften. See you there.
Will we? Dare you?
L to R: Me (redhead), Robbie, (not), Alexa Lamont (redhead), Musical
Director Harry Sever (redhead), Ianthe Cox-Willmott (redhead), Harry
again.
The Network Theatre is underneath Waterloo Station, down a tunnel, beyond the smells, and very pleasant. You can come tonight, Thursday or Friday. The special effect might be a zipwire. The night promises to be smart and silly (we're wearing shirts and doing voices) and the apocalypse-spanning songs, by Susannah Pearse, are typically astonishing – I love singing Sue's stuff at Christmas. The source material is Karel Čapek's play "Rossum's Universal Robots" – the source of the word "robot" and I think I'm playing the guy on the left. Olé!
For April the First, my favourite accidental physicists "The Corridor Crew" loose their visual-effects-dissecting acumen on the moon landing, providing typically conclusive, keen and concise insights into its unfakeability. Watch and learn why this shot from 2001 couldn't possibly have taken place inside a vacuum, and why moonwalk footage from Apollo 11 couldn't possibly have taken place outside of one.
(And further confirmation, of course, can be found here.)
A little scrawling had turned up on the south end of Waterloo Bridge yesterday evening. When I was last here, in the hours of darkness, I'd seen some of it go up. As with the south bank further west, the evening I wandered down to Vauxhall, I'd felt that night like the only one out over the age of thirty.
I remembered how much the scene reminded me of eighties' film dystopias, and how much as a child I'd looked forward to actually living in one. So stimulating! I mean, obviously it would be nice to feel society at large wasn't breaking down, but – at the risk of sounding like the People's Poet – I'd favour this over a future that "kept kids off the streets", as we used to say back in the day. I did wonder though, going back to that night, what it was about pre-lockdown London that had kept the kids away. Was it just other people's evenings out?
And then yesterday I passed this:
Oh yeah, of course. There had been an area specifically designated for everything I'd seen in the night, but it was now fenced off. That was certainly one explanation.
Things just seemed to be naturally heading towards a "Spot the Martian" round, I feel, so below are twenty images I found online of aliens from film and television. Can you identify the ten from Mars? For example: if I showed you the picture above, you would, of course, say "Yes, these are Martians! From the 1951 film Flight To Mars, set on Mars, which is why their helmets have holes at the front, because they live here so they can just breathe normally!" Bonus points if you can name the show or film the image is from, and additional bonus points if you just decide you deserve them, because why not? As many as you like! I'm WiIly Wonka. I'm the Childlike Empress. Infinite Wishes! Aswers will be posted as ever in the comments, where you can also tell me how many points you decided to award yourself.
Vancouver last August, where this ad was filmed – along with many futuristic sci-fi shows from the noughties, meaning I'd wanted to visit this city for decades. But when I finally get there, everywhere else had caught up, and the biggest thing distinguishing this Pacific shoreline now from, say, Leeds or Chelsea Wharf is just the number of people to a canoe.
