Richard Wright

Damn – it turns out that the Youtube version of The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon was unauthorised. Richard Gale, the creator, popped by the comments of the last post to explain. If you missed it…

Hi Richard,
I’m the writer/director of The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon. I’m happy to see you enjoyed it so much! The video on You Tube was an unauthorized upload, I had to remove it as the film is still playing exclusively in film festivals. I will be doing an Official online release of the film in a few months, and would love it if you could link to the spoonkiller again at that time! In the meantime, info about my film can be found at www.richard-gale.com
Thanks!
Richard Gale

And I intend to do so, because it’s relentlessly funny, you’ll love it, and Richard deserves all the credit and attention it will bring.

Pirates are arseholes.

If you’re in the vicinity of the following festivals in the next few weeks, I promise you, this movie is worth going along for alone.

Fantasia Film Festival, Montreal, July 10th – August 3rd

Toronto After Dark Film Festival, Toronto, August 14th – 21st

Sao Paulo International Short Film Festival, Sao Paulo, August 20th – 28th

In other news, I have now established that what makes me a reasonably effective runner is not stamina, or speed, or good running form, but the ability not to stop for anything, even when it’s a really, really good idea to do so. At the end of last week, while stretching after circuit training, something strained in my left glute (or “arse” if you prefer the correct medical terminology). It was only for a second, and vanished instantly. It’s been fine since then, and I forgot about it.

Until about a hundred feet into tonight’s five mile run, where it reintroduced itself enthusiastically. Did I stop running? No, I did not. I ran up a steep hill instead, thinking if it isn’t better by the top, I’ll go home. And at the top, it was slighty better. Did it occur to me that this might be because I’d stopped running up a steep hill? I did not.

It stayed with me the whole way round, a sharp pain, uncomfortable, but not such that I couldn’t run at all. I shortened my stride, resigned myself to a slow night, and made the course.

Then I stopped running, and oh my, I could barely stand. It seems that the glute (or “arse”) is only willing to support me while my stride is that particular length, at that particular speed, which is bloody picky of it if you ask me. Painkillers are kicking in now, so I’m no longer hobbling like I’m recovering from a hip op, but I’ve a feeling there’s going to have to be recovery time.

Which is annoying, frankly.

Because I had it in my head that I would blog today, and because it’s been a quiet weekend and I’ve nothing interesting to say about it, I’m extremely pleased to bring to your attention…

The Horribly Slow Murderer With The Extremely Inefficient Weapon

The short film is ten minutes long, best viewed with the sound on, and the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages. Enjoy.

What the hell? I mean, seriously, what the hell?

Beautiful central performances, glorious cinematography, a breathtaking revenge story, a wonderful sense of awe and mystery…

And a twist, from out of nowhere in the final seconds, that cheapens everything that went before, making it all somehow less. It’s a Sixth Sense style twist, which rewrites the film you just watched, except here it doesn’t make you want to applaud. Here, it makes you want the last two hours back. It turns the revenger into a common murderer, the villain into a victim, and the viewer into a fool.

If you’ve seen the film, you’ll know the bit I mean, and I’d love to know what you thought. I felt wretchedly cheated. How about you?

It’s a boy thing, isn’t it? The Rocky films? A boy thing? I have to assume so.

I watched Rocky Balboa a few nights ago, initially with my partner, and then not so much, because she found it so unbearably amusing that she had to leave the room. I can see the film’s faults clearly enough – it’s ridiculously bombastic, often preposterously sentimental, much like the original.

And yet… and yet…

I love it. I want to cheer at absurd moments. I want to get beaten to a bloody pulp, just so I can find the strength to stand one last time. I want Survivor to compose me a personal anthem, so that I can star in my very own extended training montage, and whale on some food products.

It’s a boy thing, yes? The boy equivalent of Dirty Dancing. I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t help myself…

You know when you see something, and just can’t work out what you think about it? Last night, Burton’s Sweeney Todd did exactly that to me. Visually, it was extraordinary, from the grotesque mask he threw over London, to the perfectly timed visual brutalities and humour (both of which worked very well). The cast were uniformly excellent, whether that be the leads or the cameos and support (I particularly enjoyed Depp and Rickman), and the story bolts along neatly.

What I can’t decide, is whether I would enjoy the musical in any other form. While some of the lyrics were interesting, others were frankly dreadful, and very little of the music has stuck in my head (actually, I can’t remember a single tune). There was also an annoying tendency for characters to sing about something that had just happened – re-describing something that you just saw with your own eyes, rather than singing through the moments in question – which made the action a little stuttery at times.

I think I enjoyed it. I just wasn’t able to get lost in it.