The Book Tower

Not long ago, at least it doesn’t feel like it was that long ago, I mused mid-season about Heroes. Now it’s all over, and as series creator Tim Kring has been reported apologising for the lacklustre second season, I may never get nearly as enthusiastic about it again.

By far my favourite actor in Heroes is Zachary Quinto (pictured, quarrelling with real hero Hiro), who played the evil Sylar with relish. Quinto didn’t appear until a few episodes into the series with Sylar featured only that far as a shadowy figure in a baseball cap. Apparently Quinto wasn’t cast until the series had already started filming, so this is where Heroes has some similarity to Gone With the Wind, as Vivian Leigh wasn’t cast in her role either until after filming had commenced. But I guess that’s where the similarities end.

Quinto played the part with just about the right degree of inhumanity (and I concede that using your finger as a can opener to wrench open people’s skulls is about an inhuman as you can get), but he never went too far over the top. My favourite episode was where Sylar has his moment of doubt after realising he might be the one who’s going to write off half the population of New York in a rather largish explosion. He phones his old mucker Mohinder (“oh, hi Sylar!”) before descending on his poor mother who inadvertently makes his mind up for him. Cue snow globes and creepy blokes. But it was truly chilling television, and I call for the reviewer in the Radio Times who couldn’t see the point of this episode to be sacked. I think that it gave the inhuman just that short glimpse of compassion, which made it all the more frightening when you realised that he might have called the whole plan off. We need our film and movie monsters to prove that they think about things a little; it isn’t just about stealing brains. Sylar, Norman Bates, Dr Leckter; they’re all extremely clever. And this makes me more afraid of them.

The final episode of season one was both enjoyable and infuriating. Perhaps I’d built it up too much in my own head; I certainly didn’t want Sylar to die, because he’s such a good character. But as the whole theme was about destiny and it was Hiro’s destiny to polish the dastardly villain off then that was what had to happen for a fitting conclusion. But then they had to go and spoil things with a Hallowe’en style ending; we’ve seen it a thousand times before – camera returns to the spot where the baddie has died but they’ve miraculously got up and legged it …

Oh. Never mind.

Zachary Quinto is likely to emerge as the star of the Heroes mob of actors. He’s already been cast as the young Mr Spock in the new Star Trek prequel and there is something weirdly alien about his appearance, whether or not he’s wearing a pair of Vulcan ears. I shall look forward to him on the bridge with Jim T. Kirk, carrying his funny little handbag, arguing with his perpetually cross father and raising his eyebrow to Dr McCoy. A perfect piece of casting and I really can’t wait.

Just a shame he had to die/appeared to die but might come back (delete as applicable). But with such a huge cast, Heroes could afford to waste a few of them. The last episode ended with Parkman and DL in a bad way, poor Ted gone to the nuclear reactor in the sky, the Petrelli brothers creating their own and Malcolm McDowell and Julia Robert’s brother two very dead baddies. Perhaps they went too far with the body count. No wonder the next season is having to introduce some new blood.

My only real criticism of Heroes is that, at times, it’s a little too knowing. For example, I’m tired of spotting Stan Lee cameos in film and tv. But I suppose that we live in a reference filled world, and the more I think about it the more I realise that you have to become part of it all. Dig the references. Salute Nathan Petrelli when he says the self-referencing you saved the cheerleader, now let us both save the world. I’m the first to show my annoyance when people don’t realise who George Takei is, or don’t question me when I roll my eyes at Stan Lee. Okay, I have no criticism.

Favourite moments? There are just too many, and one of the joys has been watching several episodes more than once to savour the subtleties. In particular, I enjoyed it when Hiro and Ando journeyed into an alternative future where the worst had happened and Nathan Petrelli was a particularly nasty US President. But of course it was really Sylar posing as him, and second viewing revealed the excellent acting of Adrian Pasdar. My second favourite actor in Heroes. If you get a chance, watch this episode again. It’s Adrian Pasdar playing Zachary Quinto playing Sylar as President Nathan Petrelli. Awesome.

And of course I pity the people who started watching the series but then gave up and subequently didn’t enjoy all of the 23 episodes at least once. I refuse to answer the questions “was Clare’s Dad really nasty?” and “something about brains? – I haven’t really watched it” because I am proud of my Heroes superiority complex.

Oh. never mind.

Season one of Heroes ended with a taster for season two; at least we know that Hiro is still with us. And I’m so glad that his thoroughly decent friend Ando is safe and well. And let’s hang on. The taster was rather intriguing, making use of the eclipse theme, and there’s already plenty of other online previews to look at, although I hear that production is currently in limbo. Let’s get this writer’s strike sorted in Hollywood. Now. Come on Mr Bennet, can’t you pull a few strings?

Keep the Star Trek references coming Heroes, because you’re the best tv show to come along since. Maybe my enthusiasm has returned…

Season two preview at the BBC

If you’re still reading, and if you’re as big a fan as I am, do you think Nathan and Peter are really dead? No, I didn’t think you did.

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It’s that time of year again when I start enthusing about the BBC’s adaptations of M.R.James stories. This year, BBC4 are showing several of its excellent television films over the Christmas period. Highlights include:

• The Stalls of Barchester. From Christmas 1971 and starring Robert Hardy and Clive Swift.

• Lost Hearts from Christmas 1973. I have vague memories of being allowed to stay up and watch this as a small child. It forged my association with Christmas and ghost stories, and is very, very sinister if you haven’t seen it.

• Whistle and I’ll Come to You. Made in 1968 and starring Michael Hordern. Directed by Jonathan Miller, who really should have done more of this sort of thing.

• A View From A Hill. From Christmas 2005, when the BBC revived their tradition of M.R.James adaptations.

• Number 13. From Christmas 2006.

Full details on the BBC4 site. It’s disappointing that there doesn’t appear to be a brand new production for 2007, but I’ll be quickly leafing through the Christmas Radio Times when it comes out just to check…

In the meantime, here’s the ending of the truly chilling A Warning to the Curious from Christmas 1972:

Mind the step…

Comments [2]

Ha! That disgusted you a little, didn’t it? I caught that little flicker of revulsion on your face. Now you’re trying to cover it up, but you don’t fool me with that oh-so-confident look, as though you knew every secret under Heaven.

In the 1990s, Clive Barker’s Hellraiser films became something of an obsession with me and the guy I shared a flat with at the time. The first 1987 film is one of my horror favourites, and I’ve recently read with some interest that Barker is currently working on a remake, no doubt utilising the developments in CGI to make his creations more horrific, although the most chilling aspect of the films was Doug Bradley’s performance as Pinhead. More disturbing, the actor is now currently reduced to advertising something on the back of buses in my home town, his huge head often ahead of me in the traffic. But sadly minus the pins.

So although he’s always sat somewhere in the back of my mind, it’s taken me ten years to start showing an interest in anything new by Barker. His latest novel, Mister B. Gone, follows the exploits of a particularly loathsome demon in 15th Century England, a backdrop that reminded me at times of Ken Russell’s film The Devils. Human depravity, torture and execution, the actions of mortal man put anything demonic firmly into context. The novel is narrated by Jakabok Botch, mysteriously imprisoned in the pages of the book that he constantly demands that the reader burn. But of course the reader reads on.

Barker’s premise is preposterous, but it is a tribute to his skill as a writer that he manages to just about pull it off. His prose is mostly excellent and so is his skill as a narrator, so no matter how incredible the story becomes Jakabok, rather than enticing you to burn the book, entices you to read on. But be warned; Mister B. Gone does contain some sickening passages of pure unadulterated horror. Although anyone familiar with Barker’s books or films will not be surprised. Or disappointed.

Clive Barker has many similarities with Neil Gaiman in how he uses the foundation that the supernatural world exists in tandem with our own; this is a fact that the reader must accept before they can appreciate how both writers can make the two worlds coexist. You just have to adjust to this seamless integration to appreciate both of these authors. Where Gaiman plunders fairytales and familiar sounding ghost stories to rework in his original style, and often bring them into the modern world, Barker uses the recognisable presence of Hell and The Devil and turns it loose on early society, one that firmly believed in the presence of the demonic, to work his wonders. It’s a conceit that works far better than I would have predicted, with Barker creating a compelling narrator who uses the age old trick of suddenly reminding the reader that they are enjoying something quite horrifying. The novel is peppered with many nudges to the reader similar in flavour to my opening quote.

I was glad when I finished Mister B. Gone, but I didn’t want to burn it. But I also don’t think Clive Barker is really my cup of tea any more; perhaps I won’t find Hellraiser films entertaining any more either… he does what he does very well – but ultimately you have to decide whether or not you need or will appreciate fully what he provides.

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