Alien: Covenant discredits the basic principles of good storytelling


People justify lowering the bar on entertainment all the time. But compared to a TV licence, which will allow you to legally consume as much garbage as you can for a fairly low price, cinema-going can get rather expensive. And this is where a film like Alien: Covenant owes a massive debt to the public. Audiences (humans with money to spend and some leisure time) seem really confused by this film. It’s not surprising, because it’s simply a mess.

No one should come away from a film wondering what the hell just happened. Especially while their wallet is still smoldering from the epic burn of an overpriced cinema ticket. And it would be just like the film industry heavyweights to show no accountability for letting such an incomplete project into the open. They’ll just move on, albeit swaying from the pleasurable burden of other people’s money.

The structure of Alien: Covenant

It’s a mishmash of scenes, some noteworthy, most baffling, and some just worth leaving the cinema to avoid. I won’t cover the small offering of decent scenes in this blog, because people pay to see a fully finished feature. Alien: Covenant definitely isn’t that. In fact at times it even has a sort of B-Movie quality – a hint of the ludicrous. This is fine for films like Sharknado, but not what audiences were prepped to expect from the latest Alien offering. There were also lines in the film that should have been taken out at a first edit stage.


David the psycho synth

David’s motivations for being so inherently malign remain as much of a mystery as they did in Prometheus. There’s just nothing any human viewer can connect with. And because this element wasn’t established from day one, the problem just spread to the next film. Kind of like a pathogen.

Fortunately Fassbender does modulate his performance to bring humour to the role. But aside from that, he’s just a knave, albeit a particularly evil one. A bad script along with hapless direction would test the best of actors. They just have to work with what they get.

The crew: Two thousand colonists in their hands

Oops. It looks like this crew are from the same school of thought as the geniuses aboard Prometheus. I wouldn’t trust them to make bread into toast.

Let’s put ourselves in the position of a crew leading a huge-scale colonisation mission. Would you take a detour to a planet you haven’t thoroughly vetted? Having then decided to make this awful decision, would you not then try to at least send an untraceable probe instead of getting your ship as close as possible and endangering the lives of all the colonists and crew? Would you care if a random transmission sounded like the song ‘Sweet Home Alabama’? Given the gravity of the overall mission, who cares about something so trivial?

The biggest issue here is that the actions of the characters are being forced to meet with the direction of the plot (the film doesn’t really have a plot, but anyway…). It should be the other way round. Characters drive plots – it’s darn interesting when they do. The character’s decisions also have to be believable. The decision to make a stop off with 2,000 something colonists on a whim just doesn’t work. This wouldn’t work in any dimension. People simply don’t make decisions that illogical when the stakes are so high. Bare in mind that this crew aren’t just on a galaxy tour as a quick laugh.

The story and its conflicts

Let’s break the story into two parts here, because there are actually two stories going on, both of which are at odds with each other.


The colonisation story isn’t exactly new in science fiction. That’s not to say these types of stories – or variations on this story – can’t be fresh and interesting. They can. But in such cases it is much more interesting story-wise to jump in partway through the main story. In reality this means starting the film when the actions of the characters have already started to have a bearing on each other and their new home.

Creation and destruction (genetic engineering and arbitrary life and death)

This wouldn’t be the first time Scott has tried to staple two conflicting story strands together, or meld them etc. I have to admire his thoughts here, as the idea of tying the creation of a selection of perfect organisms to the dissilusionment of a synth is actually kind of cool. But it’s still not convincing. It’s also overambitious if you can’t translate it or work it out beforehand. Scott should have commited to one idea or another. To a certain extent, I would have much preferred it if he’d stuck to the idea that these things just evolved to meet with their conditions. It’s simple, but simplicity often works best.

So why might this film be the way it is?

When you’re not directly involved with a film, or you can’t tap directly into the industry, the only thing left is knowledge of storytelling. This involves looking at the component parts of a film (or story whatever) for inconsistencies. This is what an editor does to a certain extent with a piece of fiction. You can sometimes tell something’s wrong on a gut feel level, but it’s important to use evidence to back this up if you can.

Firstly, I think the characters and the story are highly underdeveloped. That’s not to say you can’t to drive a story using simple characterisation. The people in the original Alien movie aren’t riddled with multiple internal conflicts. No, it just took a few brush strokes to give these living, breathing characters some basic dimensions. In Alien we get this. In fact, it’s quite economical, and with some quick pieces of dialogue we know who these people are within the space of about 30 seconds.

The characters in Alien don’t want the earth. They’re not on a mission of great importance to humanity. Why would someone put that much pressure on a creative project? In essence, something like that is likely to fail. A story is more likely to kick if the scope resembles the eye of a needle, not the range of a mountain.

Another aspect of failure is the script. One way to develop characters is to just write some example lines of the kind of things they’d say. Work it out on paper. I can’t recall anyone in Alien: Covenant having any recurring sayings or character traits. (This is storytelling lesson level 1 by the way, so that gives you an idea of how things have become).

I think what’s happened is this. Ridley Scott has given this big, undeveloped idea to scriptwriters. They’ve tried to interpret it in the best way they know how. But if I know experienced writers, they probably just wept, then dried their eyes with the six figure pay cheque. (Those cheques are quite absorbent). Then the writer came back with an inevitably bad script, full of frustration and bafflement, more than ready to move on to a more fulfilling project.

Ridley Scott

Ridley Scott is still able to create worlds which place us outside of our own reality. He creates scenes that are stunning – sometimes even economically so. But so do Guillermo del Toro and James Cameron. Scott’s ability to envision arresting surroundings doesn’t make up for the many failings of Alien: Covenant. (Plus I think the CGI techies have to actually make things look pretty anyway). The film should be judged as a singular dramatic expression, somewhat like a short story. If I saw the kind of weaknesses present in any story like there are in Alien: Covenant, it simply wouldn’t sell.

So why aren’t the people behind this film noticing the issues earlier? How is a film so flawed from someone with so much experience getting to market? I can only suggest that Ridley Scott has transcended criticism some time ago. Or that people dare not question his authority. Of course this is crazy. He’s a director, with total responsibility for the final output, but a director nonetheless. There are many film craftspeople out there, and he’s in competition with them, just as they are with him. Remember that a director exists to tell stories through a lens. They should be good storytellers first.

Unless Ridley Scott is going to commit to his themes of creation and the meaning of being human (these of course come up in Blade Runner), then he should stop making these films.

The Alien Franchise

I think one of the things it’s hard to admit is that Alien has mutated into a dying franchise that might only be rescued by leaving it and moving on, or passing it on to another director. I think part of the problem is hanging on – and trying to develop – a story where any uniqueness began to fade just beyond the second film. So invent some new stories, do something new. By all means, set all your stories in space, people love that, but they want films that have been given more thought, because they’ll be more entertained that way.

Prometheus and Alien: Covenant are two films that spell a deterioration in this franchise. Because like it or not, Prometheus is tied to the franchise for good or ill.

These films are starting to have the flavour of the Star Wars Trilogies that shall not be named, because George Lucas attached the weights to his own career coffin when he made those. Or didn’t make them, or was lazy, or disinterested, or whatever. To hear Ridley Scott talk about following this project up off the back of these last two films just fills me with dread.

A potential solution

I think films with this many preventable flaws need to be vetted before release. Forget for a minute that they already now carry an unfortunate history. The next film needs greater participation from external sources with the ability to form a story. Kind of like an intervention, but in the film industry. At least that one thing would have more potential for film dignity.


Alien Covenant pre-review

I don’t usually write pre-review pieces, but my instincts tell me I’m not going to like Alien Covenant, so I decided to. If I end up being a fan, then okay, I’m happy to admit to being overly negative about a film I hadn’t seen yet. But…

The hype and build up surrounding this film has almost been enough to put me off. In fact, I think all this noise is fragmenting expectations. Audiences everywhere are being programmed to judge films on their component parts rather than as a whole. I hear this when I ask people what they think of a film. They say something like ‘so-and-so’s performance was great, and that scene scared the crap out of me, but I sort of didn’t know what was going on.’ Of course this is probably deliberate. It’s just a money making scheme designed to scoop up the pennies before the big cash-raking starts. But it does worry me, and surely this leaves a hollow feeling in the minds of the directors who still remain conscientious storytellers.

Even some of the reviews of Alien Covenant have annoyed me, as they are almost as incoherent and useless as I’m expecting the film to be. There are of course some good reviewers and critics out there. But unfortunately I’ve come across some real self-hugging prima-donnas who may one day discover the fine art of gracefully taking up a pen in the small hours of the morning rather than committing a showy diatribe to YouTube.

Alien: Covenant trailer

The trailer gives us snippets from the final cut of the film – enough said there. The first snippet in this trailer shows the character of Daniels giving an informal speech to the crew. The speech seems to be a kind of pick me up inspirational talk to soften the blow of a potential suicide mission. But surely we don’t need something as forced as a speech to illustrate the gravity of their task. Showing always works better than telling in these situations. I assume there will be some showing to balance things out, but as with Prometheus I already anticipate this film will repeatedly state its own importance so audiences are coerced into suspending their doubts. By the way, just in case you didn’t know the basic story yet, the crew are the first humans from our earth to try and colonize an alien planet. Otherwise, the trailer is full of one-liners, most of which appear not to create much suspense.

Meet Walter

This trailer suffers from the same exaggerated characteristics of Prometheus. The two subjects, who look like a cross between ninjas and professional fencers are just creating a robot. From a historical science fiction point of view this is just an old idea reworked into a high spec advert. It looks like a particularly pretentious initiation ceremony at an elite gym.

To sum up then, I am actually looking forward to seeing Alien Covenant. I’ve just found that Ridley Scott’s ability to clearly communicate his ideas is dissolving.

Will Alien Covenant be more like Alien or Prometheus?

Image result for cast of alien

When Alien Covenant is released on 19 May I hope it’s not like Prometheus, but more like Ridley Scott’s original Alien movie. Here’s why.

Alien is a stellar example of economic film making, and it doesn’t require a guidebook to get what’s going on.

Alien kept things simple

Back in the 70’s Scott had to rely on basic tools, mainly because there wasn’t much else. He let the camera do the talking. In the opening scene the camera switches back and forth between the emergency helmet and the transmission screen. The scene is well constructed, detailed and eerie – a mysterious communication travelling through the voids of space.

It made space feel gritty

Alien seemed to be as much about the unforgiving nature of space as it was about the vulnerability of human beings. It reminded us that space travel is a process of constantly monitoring, balancing and fixing just to survive.

I felt I was watching living, breathing people operating a functioning vessel. This gave me a greater sense of shock when their environment is invaded by an inhuman organism.

Prometheus gave me no real sensation of being in space. It was just a placeholder territory for the scenes.

By contrast, Prometheus introduced the concept of Beavis and Butthead in space

How did morons like Fifield and Millburn end up on such an important mission? Surely to qualify they’d need to be emotionally well-adjusted people, not the types who freak out on a quick recce of an alien craft? Well this is what Fifield does when he says: ‘Look, I’m just a geologist. I like rocks. I LOVE… rocks. Though it’s clear you two don’t give a shit about rocks but what you do seem to care about is gigantic dead bodies.’

Is that the only geologist they could have got? A guy who, along with the other brainiac, decided to try to head back to the ship with almost no guidance. The rest of the crew should have saved space on the ship by just renting Fifield’s spherical mapping scanners. They did seem to be his only contribution, besides turning into a rampaging humanoid bushpig. Not a choice candidate.

Millburn isn’t much better. He appears to be about 35, yet becomes an adolescent during Peter Weyland’s presentation. Okay, there were no pastries and coffee, but all the same it’s rude.

I guess there’s a stronger correlation between suicide missions and candidate intelligence levels than I thought?

I’m not saying these two characters don’t have potential, but by the time we see even a small sign, they’re killed, and may I say, rather stupidly.

It also brought us the slightly dumb doctor Holloway

The little jibes between the ‘doctor’ and the android, David don’t seem to add much to the story, except for providing some surface level tension leading up to the moment when David spikes his drink.

It’s not even clear why David wants rid of Holloway, besides just removing him as an inconvenience. I’m also not sure why Holloway wasn’t smart enough to pick up on the fact that David may want him out of the equation. This is pretty naive for a doctor. Drink spiking is a classic from as far back as Bond movies.

Alien was more unsettling

Alien managed to rework some familiar things to unsettle the viewer.

Let’s take their ship, the Nostromo as an example. Most people who’ve seen the film can probably recall that the surroundings are half NASA half H.R. Giger launderette. These melded ideas seem to show the idea of something already corrupted. In other words, the ship seems doomed from the outset.

The face grabber

Dial down the elaborate construction of this creature and you’ve basically got a crustacean. But again, some simple modifications helped to put a grotesque slant on normality. Ash’s basic investigation of this creature is a good scene, as his reaction betrays an inhuman admiration for it. Unlike David in Prometheus, Ian Holme’s portrayal of an android is subtle.

Acting like an android


Ian Holme played this role exceptionally. Early on in the film he maintained such a fine balance between colleague and malevolent robot that I was never quite sure about his intentions. He even appeared at times to share the goals and value systems of his human colleagues. He only gives very subtle hints about his motivations. Notice the word ‘subtle’ here, then try to apply that to David in Prometheus.

Holme lives his double life convincingly. He’s part of the team. He’s able to be calm, rational and friendly to the other project members, while knowing all along that the MO of the ship is to make contact with – and maybe even source – one of the alien creatures. All along I wasn’t quite sure how his personality fitted in with the rest of the crew, I just felt something wasn’t quite right. But we spend just enough time with the other characters, so we don’t have too much time to ponder his position, and therefore this intensifies our feeling of surprise leading up to the point when he malfunctions. We’re surprised because the characters are, because we’ve had chance to invest in these characters, and we share in their horror.


In Prometheus, Ridley Scott goes out of his way to remind us that David’s a robot. I don’t blame Michael Fassbender, as I know he’s a highly accomplished actor. I put this down to misdirection, which given all the evidence can only lie at the door of Scott. It’s a director’s job to bring subtlety to a film.

Such lack of subtlety includes David shooting hoops on a unicycle, then combing his hair in front of old movies, to somehow emulate humans? The point is never clear. Read any book on creating scenes for film. There’s no clear goal to some of these scenes. They add up to a portrayal of an AI that’s highly unsophisticated, provoking no deeper thought than came out of films like Pinocchio. At best, David portrays some sociopathic / psychopathic tendencies, rather than the complexity of subtle manipulation that might have amounted to a more dramatic outcome.

Doctor Holloway’s comment about alcohol being wasted on David seems again to have no point but to reinforce David’s position as the only physically human level AI aboard the ship.

The way David’s actions are staged are also pretty clunky, and his position as a malevolent character is handled too indiscreetly to make it convincing. He’s just always there in the background like some kind of spy, collecting samples, looking as suspect as possible. It’s about as subtle as some oddball feeling up all the fruit in a supermarket at 3 a.m. He does this while the rest of them – aside from the doctors – begrudgingly bumble along in search of ‘answers’.

We’re constantly made aware of David’s role as the bad boy robot, who indeed has his own agenda, which seems to be to get to the planet of the engineers. But I wasn’t ever sure. Of course he’s not guided by emotion, as should be the case with all stereotypical outlines for any good robot character. Well, except when he gets annoyed enough with Holloway to poison him.

Prometheus did the random plot twist thing 👎

Prometheus doesn’t use the element of surprise to very good effect. Peter Weyland turns up at the end, then reveals he’s Vicker’s father. Both these twists actually seem to take the film off course, as there are too many surprises thrown in at once. These surprises add an unbalanced weight to the closing sections of the film. When this happens, audiences will tend to switch off, as there’s too much to deal with. More academic audience members will do some research to try to tie up some of the loose ends, but oh dear, by then, it’s too late, you’ve lost everyone else.

Maybe if they’d revealed Weyland’s physical existence earlier on, they may have been able to explore the existentialist story idea in more depth?

There didn’t appear to be any background mission behind the secret mission in Prometheus. In Alien, there’s a mission, plus an underlying game plan. This makes for some wonderful tension in the film, and shows the crew to be expendable in the face of a larger plan.

Alien didn’t try doing vague symbolism 👍

Instead of loading films with baggy underlying symbolism, just show people the unfolding of a good story. The beauty of the original Alien movie seems to be tied up in its simplicity. Things do just seem to happen, but they’re underpinned by clear direction.

All but one of the crew of a commercial spaceship are picked off by a superior organism because they followed what they thought was a warning – or SOS – signal. There’s no forced deeper meaning – there doesn’t need to be. It’s just a set of unfortunate events, which happened in a pocket of time in all that emptiness. A director should trust the audience to bring their own meaning to each element of a film, then weigh it up against the whole.

But this room-to-breath approach isn’t applied in Prometheus. Firstly, the name should be a giveaway. This association brings with it the full weight of its mythology. There are articles out there with titles like ‘What Prometheus is really about’. The problem is, what it’s really about should be fairly obvious by paying for your cinema ticket. When a film isn’t finished – cake not baked syndrome – people end up bewildered. Why? Because loose ends remain flapping in the wind, and an audience will not know what to do.

Arbitrary loss in Alien

The original Alien movie appears to be more of a secular film than Prometheus, and it’s better for it. This is because it presents sacrifice in a more arbitrary fashion. The form and existence of that perfect organism is geared towards survival through removal of all interference or potential risk. It’s a perfectly engineered, remorseless, self-interested killing machine. This idea, although hard to stomach at first, is perversely attractive to human audiences, whose value system sways between this and moral judgement when convenient and available. But despite this underlying harshness, I still think audiences prefer this simplicity compared to bloated, underdeveloped symbolism.

Good aspects in Prometheus

Prometheus does have some redeeming aspects, and they begin with the sketching out of the humanoid engineers. There’s no doubt that they are beautiful creatures. They appear from the start to be fairly unique compared to anything else I’ve seen in film. Their skin has a translucent marble-like quality. They invite an immediate fascination. I was curious to know more about them, not just the surface level information provided. Had Scott focused on the idea of human creation instead of setting up two counterposing story strands, we would probably have seen more of this detail.

Two fairly decent characters

Only two of the characters really work in Prometheus. One is the captain, Janek, played by Idris Elba. But like many aspects of this film, he doesn’t get the time to develop, or react for very long with other characters. The other one is Doctor Elizabeth Shaw, played by Noomi Rapace. Aside from her comments about god, which appear to be force-fed on behalf of the director, she’s pretty compelling as a character. At points, I even thought she could be the next Ripley. The tension in the self-service surgery scene was palpable. This shows that some decent actors thrive despite bad direction and floppy story architecture.

More bad aspects

One of the main problems of trying to deliver multiple ideas in a film is space and time. Especially for a box office hit. You’ve got two and a half to three hours maximum, even less in some cases. The clock is ticking while you get your story to completely arrest the audience’s attention. If that’s not enough, you make a TV series, where you then have more time to develop characters and story lines. A film is almost like a short story, in that a director has to be economic in what they show and how. Even a film based on one idea can over spill.

Prometheus appears to be two films in one. I’m still shocked Scott managed to bring any coherence to this film. Despite the fact I think the film doesn’t work as a whole, it’s because of his experience as a director that it was released at all. Obviously, there are also economic pressures to get the thing out the door.

Besides Janek and Shaw, most of the characters in Prometheus appear to be placeholders to drive home whatever the film’s woolly message is.

If the film’s overall architecture had been properly thought out, we could be looking at a balanced piece of cinema. Instead, there are only these little pockets of promise waiting to take off, but never quite getting there.

How the characters in Alien are better than those in Prometheus

Scott used some good little tricks to reveal character in Alien. In the first dinner scene, he gave us the idea that we’ve just happened upon a group of people interacting socially. There’s tension, as we get the impression these people have been forced together out of professional circumstance. We also get the impression we’ve come in partway through the dialogue, which has the effect of showing that we’re entering into a story that’s alive. These people have history, opinions, desires, fears. They engage with the full weight of developed personalities. The result? It looks natural. It makes us think we’re observing a sort of reality. This was almost entirely absent in Prometheus.

Please note, this isn’t the opening dinner scene. I had trouble getting hold of it. However, it illustrates the approach I mentioned above.

This scene is doing something vital as far as characterization is concerned. It gets the characters interacting altogether in one room. Prometheus does this to a certain extent with the initial presentation scene, but A, this was not an informal enough setting and B, it didn’t invite consistent interaction between characters. They just looked like a bunch of sullen kids who’d been dragged along on a mission they didn’t want to be on.

Because of the motivations of both the two doctors (Shaw and Holloway), there was a clunky us versus them situation. This may have worked if Scott had followed it through, but he didn’t. Also, if there had been more of a group comradery, there would’ve been greater impact as the crew numbers became reduced.

In essence, the characters seemed to lack spirit in Prometheus. There weren’t enough natural character signatures.

The group interaction that worked so well in Alien didn’t occur in Prometheus. In the latter film, characters tended to interact in pairs, or very small groups. A lot of the scenes in Prometheus involved only two characters in a room together. This reminds me of some of the scenes in George Lucas’s later Star Wars movies, where a camera was just placed in front of two actors with very little thought for dynamics. These scenes seem forced together to extract one or another of the director’s messages, rather than reveal much about the character.

No surprises

The surprise of seeing Peter Weyland at the end is lessened because it’s so obvious he has an agenda. The agenda itself isn’t so clear. Like Alien, the android in Prometheus is linked directly to this agenda. Weyland’s first motivation seemed to be to get answers from the engineers on why they created humans – assuming they even did. His second appeared to be to somehow extend his tenuous grasp on life. His plans for acquiring both seemed pretty non-existent. It’s not like a species he’s never met before, who appear to be geared for conflict are just going to dispense with the pleasantries and get on to providing some sort of care plan, with a meaning of life document thrown in. This kind of character naivety shouldn’t belong to such films.

Reception of Prometheus

I was shocked at how Prometheus was received by critics. Overall it seemed to be positive. What surprised me the most was how this could be the case given the level of inconsistency, lack of character development and attention to story and plot structure. Commercial pressures appear once again to have lowered the bar, as they always do.

Reflecting on Alien once more

I really hope Scott looked back at Alien for some historic inspiration, if not just for old times sake. The film made audiences feel sick, scared, helpless and disturbed. It sometimes made them laugh. It worked, but also changed the game a bit. It showed what could be done. It used environment, set pieces, props, camera work and acting. More importantly it focused on attention to detail, done with wonderful economy. It wasn’t lazy or insulting.

I have no issues whatsoever when it comes to reinventing the film making game. It absolutely needs to be changed, mashed up, pushed forward, questioned, you name it. Do something new, that’s the whole point. It’s great if a director can do it – some have. A great film sings with invention and character. It gets you to cry and scares the crap out of you. It makes you forget the world you just left for the one you’re about to enter. But if certain directors keep churning out sterile, CGI-focused films like Prometheus, the industry is in real creative danger.

Odd little poem

alt="mermaid picture"

I was daydreaming last week and wrote this:

A multicoloured mermaid was drinking herbal tea.
The mermaid was she.

Her weasel-faced opponent sat next to her to see,
if it was really herbal tea,
and not just boiling horses pee.

A waiter in the restaurant where the mermaid drank her tea,
had two, or four, or fourteen legs,
I really couldn’t see.

You see I’d drunk the herbal tea before,
at the request of the Maître d,
but didn’t know that drinking tea,
was not that good for me.

Because I’m not a mermaid,
as all the guests could see,
I shouldn’t drink what I was told,
was really horses pee.

Had fun writing that. Peace Out.


More of a writer

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I feel like more of a writer now than before. I’ve sat in a cross border area not really knowing which side to straddle, and at the same time wanting to embrace both. Now I realise that’s not possible. Really, I either sit up late writing until I can’t punch out another word, or write in some kind of trance, or get out the guitar and dedicate myself to music like nothing else matters. But I can’t be both. I can’t foster the route of dual expertise like it is normal, like it’s actually real.

I wrote my first poem at the age of 12. It rhymed a lot. In fact I went out of my way to make sure it rhymed. It was a combination between bed knobs and broomsticks and material from a poetry book about fairies my dad used to read to me as a kid. The only words I recall from this poem were The Flying Ride, then something like To end the flying ride repeated again throughout the poem. I was asked to read it out a few times by the teacher. She obviously got off on rhymes, or maybe she was going through a pop music phase (nursery rhymes and pop music aren’t so dissimilar you know). She seemed to like it. Others either didn’t know what drugs I was taking, or probably didn’t care to have an opinion.

Holding on to this moment doesn’t really mean much now. But it does stop me not giving up. It’s a foolish little moment to hang on to, but it’s what I’ve got. It’s also a reminder of what it feels like when I write. It feels like something full of potential could suddenly happen at the drop of a word or a sentence. There’s a rhythm that builds, so the act of writing itself feels right. It feels like sanity, calm and retribution coming together all at once. It stabilises me from losing faith when I see so many things around me that are beckoning me to lose concern for those who are rather unconcerned about me. What a strange collection of reasons to write.

My Sideways addiction

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I modified this blog post a year ago. Now it’s time to get it out there, perfect or not, or whatever.

It began because…

Sometimes a film comes along that seems made just for you. Or in this case, offered like an unreckoned jewel for my subconscious etc. For me this film is Sideways. My subconscious says thanks.

It is the story of a frustrated single writer in his mid-thirties and his friend of a similar age, Jack (played by Thomas Haden Church). Despite their different priorities in life, they come together to drink wine and celebrate Jack’s last week of freedom before he gets married.

After 35 or so viewings, I still find myself re-watching this film, thinking maybe I should enrol on a rehabilitation weekend or a mind flush where people are strapped into chairs and forced to watch the entire Rambo collection, or even worse, the Transformers movies on constant replay. There is no help, because in my head Miles Raymond outstrips every character that Paul Giammati has ever depicted since.

Oh, and booze…

I first saw Sideways at the Gulbenkian Theatre, University of Kent, Canterbury. For those who haven’t heard of it, it’s a theatre and cinema near the back of the Kent Uni campus. By the end of my third year at Kent, I’d lost count of the properly made films I’d seen there. I can’t pinpoint the exact season when I first saw Sideways, it may have been late summer. It was definitely my second year studying English Lit. I recall I’d started a love affair with real ale – I’d recently become enamoured by a locally brewed Emerald One Hop that I’ve never seen since – and the mood of the evening seemed to slot together with this small and personal tale. I remember sitting towards the back of the theatre with a group of friends, only one of whom has remained close.

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The start of the film is shot in darkness with the sound of urgent knocking on a cheap apartment door as a man struggles to wake up. “Oh fuck” says the man, who seems irritated at his own existence, let alone that the building manager has broken his slumber to get him to move his inconveniently parked car. That car. The ultimate English teacher in a life crisis vehicle. There is a sense that Miles is being asked to move all his worldly possessions and not just a quirky 1987 SAAB 900 Cabrio – a car that looks like a bath toy on wheels. Without even seeing Miles in the flesh, I already knew who he was. The character was so well-developed that only a short burst of the man was enough to know he would under no circumstances blend quietly into normality.

alt="120 magnolia avenue"

As is perfectly in character, Miles lives in a sorry little block of polystyrene-looking apartments in Goleta, Santa Barbara County, where most of the cars lining his street were probably cast-offs from an eighties cop drama. The whole setup is perfectly mediocre: a long shot of some dreary overhead cables and a discarded shopping trolley with broken down grocery boxes inside. They’re waiting for the damp to set in and finish them off.

Then we’re inside his building. Raymond’s house consists of books everywhere in piles. Books seem to glue each room and his life together. On his microwave there are antidepressants, an unwashed coffee mug and more leaning books. Despite the fact he’s late for the last hoorah before his close friend gets married, he still finds time to have an engrossing read on the can and violently floss his teeth. I’m not sure whether this behaviour is supposed to be common among writers, but let’s say for argument’s sake it is. We already know Raymond is the flawed kind. Miles is not a man to be rushed, and so he stops off at the best little cafe in the world, the kind of place that was made for writers. It’s a liberal kind of place where one member of staff has dreadlocks and the other one knows Miles by name.

So with a bit of a hangover Raymond orders a triple espresso, a New York Times and a spinach croissant while another customer is not even wearing shoes. I remember immediately wanting to go to this uber-relaxed place, and in a completely impressionable way order the Miles Raymond wine tasting hangover special. That’s my kind of tasting. Tasted all of them.

This is wine tasting

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Any man who completes a crossword while cruising down a freeway gets my vote. Then having seen a few parts of the commuter belt towards Los Angeles, we’re then on to a large goose grey home that looks like a cake decoration. But behind the façade, Mile’s college buddy Jack is waiting eagerly to get started with his week-long pre-marriage send off. I think the floor inside the wedding cake home is a false granite or some kind of white / grey marble, but it’s laid in large squares. This scene contains one of the best pieces of dialogue in the film, which once again sets Miles apart from his surroundings (if parking the red bath toy next to three highly polished saloons and a four by four wasn’t enough). Jack’s father in law offers his philistine opinion on fiction, and although I would personally have slammed him with something about the lines between fiction and non-fiction and gone off on a diatribe, Miles offers an exquisite slice of passive aggression.

“Mike Erganian: What is the subject of your book? Non-fiction?
Miles Raymond: Uh, no. It’s… it’s a novel. Fiction. Yes. Although there is quite a bit from my own life… so I suppose that, technically some of it is non-fiction.
Mike Erganian: Good I like non-fiction. There is so much to know about this world. I think you read something somebody just invented, waste of time.
Miles Raymond: That’s an interesting perspective.”

Hey Miles, what is wine anyway?

alt="Thomas Haden Church"

As Miles drives away from the Erganian household with Jack as his passenger and friend, the characters are juxtaposed, with Jack ready to run from the knowledge of lifelong commitment while Miles goes to town on the significance of grape skin colour as related to wine. Just as there doesn’t seem to be anything that can stop the trip from happening, it then turns out that Miles has to stop off to see his mother for her, as he says, “seventy, something” birthday. During a meal that is clearly delaying the wine tasting schedule, Miles excuses himself to go and steal somewhere in the region of 1000 dollars from his mother’s underwear draw while she occupies herself with his used-to-be-semi-famous-actor friend Jack.

Both Jack and Miles leave without saying goodbye while Mile’s mother sleeps in her clothes from the night before. Then they’re off to the cafe, where we find out that Miles is on two forms of antidepressant / anti-anxiety medication. The positive aspects of his personality are mostly teased out when wine is involved. I celebrated these small corners of light in his character.

Lastly, one particular scene stood out for me. Almost half way through the film, Maya and Miles are discussing their love for wine while simultaneously creating a subtext by which they can show the fundamentals of who they are. This is where Miles tells Maya that his passion for Pinot wine goes beyond its taste and deep into the character of the Pinot grape which he describes as thin-skinned, temperamental, thus describing the depths of his own personality.

By the way, this might be some of the best dialogue subtext you hear in a while:

Part of my love for this film comes from the fact that so many things about Miles ring true with my own personality. Like Miles I am an over-thinker and often negative, and I suppose that’s why watching Sideways feels like the closest I’ll ever come to seeing a large chunk of my real self portrayed by a fictional character.