People hate rush hour. In many ways I hate rush hour to. An asked for invite to a game of twister with strangers. However that unexpected proximity to the rest of London is really a treat to be grateful for.
When you watch The Bleak Old Shop Of Stuff This Christmas remember that it was hand carved on a genuine Victorian non-linear editing platform and composited using exactly the same node-based technology that a 19th century Shake compositor would have used.
In honour of the great man whose death was sadly announced today below I’m republishing my blog from June 2009 when I was lucky enough to meet him. We shall never see his like again. On that you can be sure.
The other night I snuck along to a preview screening of the new digitally remastered copy of ‘Aria’, which is new out on DVD. For those who missed this first time round, ‘Aria’ is a portmanteau film in which producer Don Boyd gathers a collection of directors and gets them each to visually interpret an operatic aria of their choice. Not the sort of thing you can imagine many financiers going for these days, but since the directors in question…
With UnderWire still cupping us close and urging us to pay attention to women filmmakers I thought now would finally be a good time to shout the name Dee Meaden at you.
In this week of the UnderWire Fest it seemed right to shine a spotlight on some talented women, like director Kate Herron whose ramshackle but delightful short film is a gleeful example of the impro law of Yes-Anding in practice.
Among the treats on offer at UnderWire I want to draw your attention to a session this Saturday in which the mighty Lucy V Hay and I will be discussing women as characters. Writing about women is an essential part of telling (most) stories well. So whatever your gender, if you’re a screenwriter come and join us this Saturday.
Read more and pick up tickets at http://www.underwirefestival.com/
Whilst you can take the girl out of Hampstead you can never take Hampstead out of the girl so obviously when she started to consider the social problems of her adopted home cricket became the natural solution.
Stood in the queue at Starbucks in the UK listening to people reel off their over complicated caffeine demands (skinny decaf caramel latte with a shot and a twist) I always blamed the Americans for ruining a simple pleasure. But American coffee is simple. You say coffee. You get coffee. Endless, bottomless, jet black coffee. Remember that next time you start asking for that half and half moccaccino with a slice and sawdust sprinkles…
Some pictures of Silverlake where we stayed for a bit. Winding round narrow roads high in the hills it all felt sublimely Chandleresque…