... since Dick van Dyke's cor blimey accent in Mary Poppins.(Sorry, Maori Porpins)

Just one question: did anyone catch this week's episode of Stephen King's Nightmares and Dreamscapes, on the sci-fi channel? For those outside the UK, it was the one called (snort, snigger) Crouch End.

Oh my Gawd, as my dear old mum would say. I mean, she was born there. She knows the place. And the accents. And the police station as well, although she'd probably prefer you didn't know that.

Stephen King wrote this story when he was a) intrigued by the name and b) discovered there's an abandoned tube line there. From here on in I'm guessing, but I imagine he decided to visit the underbelly of London with all sorts of expectations for stuff he could write about - only to have them cruelly dashed the moment he stepped off the train at Charing Cross. Discovering a place called Crouch End must have been his last best hope, but then he went there and discovered that the reality of cockney suburbia is the same as it is everywhere else: T.K Maxx, Weatherspoons and grotty kebab shops, with not a chimney sweep in sight. So he wrote what was in his head instead.

He's allowed to. He's a writer and besides, he WENT there, which is why the story reads so well. I guess the writer/director of this sorry spectacle wrote/directed what was in their heads as well. Trouble is, they didn't clear the crap out first.

On the other hand, I'm sure Texas IS still full of pipeweed spitting cowpokes riding hell for leather across the prairie, firing their six-shooters and yelling 'Yeeee-Ha!' while the Apaches attack the nearest settlement - just as it was in the olden days (i.e. of black and white television).

Oh, that's Miami? Gotcha.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 11/13/2008 02:55PM by Jazz_Sue.

I saw this a few years back, on 5 US, I think. You are right. Absolutely dire.

One or two of the other episodes were o.k. though.

Or Mongolish recreations?

"We'll chase them like rats across the tundra."

John Wayne as Genghis Khan in "The Conqueror"; a hoot from start to finish. They apparently had Brando in mind for the part but didn't count on Marlon's ability to recognise a lemon when he saw one. The Duke, on the other hand, seemed to quite enjoy tart citrus.

I saw the Green Mile and a couple of other things supposedly written by King. A load of incoherent rubbish with plot holes big enough to drive a 747 through.

Whether it is King or the adaptors and presenters of his writings I don't know, and really don't wish to know for the stories all seemed the same and rely on intellectually limited individuals who cannot communicate to have any chance of moving the story forward.

Any reasonably intelligent individual would find some method of solving the problem, even if if they had to resort to the tabloid press and TV to sensationalise the matter at hand.

It seems that in the US of A it is not allowable for an individual male to admit that he cannot cope with the problem facing him. If this is part of the national mythology it helps to explain the actions of the US government over the last 150m ***** years.




*****Just reread this. It should read '150 years'. It just seems to be 150million years.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 11/21/2008 04:40AM by bunyip.

See, the problem with the movies is they cut out all the important bits.

Mostly the bits with aliens in them.

I'm looking at you, Hearts in Atlantis.

I gave my copy of NM and DS to the charity bookshop several years ago, so my memory is a bit vague re the Crouch End chapter, but I'm pretty certain it didn't have some bloody great octopussy alien thing bursting out of the tarmac and swallowing the hero whole. Evidently he went the same way as the entire population of ethnic minorities.

For those who don't know, here are the highlights of Alt. Hollywood North London, which exists in a parallel Universe quite unlike our own.

1) There are no cars, no traffic lights, no shops and - despite Transport for London making it the end destination on several of its busiest routes - no buses. This means you might mistake it for West Ealing, especially if it's a Monday. However, you know you've reached Crouch End because:

2) There's a ruddy great rusting ornate metal sign at the top of an otherwise nondescript road saying, er: Crouch End. This is missing from the Google images directory. Oddly, things that ARE on Google, but missing from the alt.Hollywood version, include such famous landmarks as the opera house, the clock tower and the Turkish kebab shops. This proves we have done a dimension hop, even though the director has sworn blind it's a realistic interpretation of our world.

3)Ethnic minorities have vanished, as have most other species of North Londoner. These have been replaced by just three types: a) creepy kids who are oddly dressed in Victorian clothing, but who wear modern trainers so we know they're not ghosts. There are only two of these - one of each. b) Young, menacing James Dean lookalikes in 1950's costume who turn into badly made-up Am Dram animals of indeterminate breed if you look at them funny. (These are rats, apparently, except they don't have the ears, teeth, tails or, indeed, the whiskers). They resemble James Dean because ALL MENACING YOUNG MEN FROM ENGLAND LOOK LIKE THAT. c) Old age pensioners who call everyone 'Dearie'. It is important they, as well as the taxi drivers, do this, so we know that:

4) Crouch End is a cockney suburb. This puts it firmly in East London and is another hint we are in a parallel universe. Crouch End is in North London.

5) There are no emergency services as such. The one shop in town IS a cop shop, but it is there purely to reinforce the fact our heroes are totally lost and bewildered and there's no one to help them. This is a totally surreal interpretation of police stations in Real London. It is open, for one. It also lacks the obligatory bulletproof safety screen in front of the help desk, the security guard to frisk you on the way in, and the telephone on the wall which the desk sergeant - when she eventually answers the buzzer - informs puts you straight through to head office and is the only way you can talk to a real policeman - sited several miles away. Instead, there is an unprotected oak desk with an old-fashioned bell to ding (but see below) There is a single retro dial telephone, and in place of flatscreen computers there are a couple of manual typewriters, together with an empty coffee mug. All the records are held in paper files.

6) The police station rmains spookily silent until the heroine's husband has been eaten, when it suddenly becomes a bustling hive of activity. A single ding of the bell will instantly summon a cockney copper in Dixon of Dock Green era uniform (there are no policewomen). His sole purpose is to offer the heroine a steaming mug of tea and sit her down on a wooden chair in the middle of the room where everyone can listen in. This is normal - there are no interview rooms.

7)A stray cat will have turned up at the police station that morning. Despite the hideous wound on its head, it doesn't get a one-way ticket to the RSPCA or vet. Instead, it is placed in a prominent position where everyone can see the care the Metropolitan Police take over their animals, and also get a protracted explanation of how they decided to give the poor thing the same name as - surprise surprise - the heroine's recently eaten husband.

8) A constant stream of authentic Crouch End Londoners choose this moment to make an appearance. They are all male, and are dressed exclusively in flat caps and braces. They could be plain clothes coppers, although this is unlikely because:

9) Everyone knows plain clothes coppers stick out like a sore thumb, an in Alt. Hollywood London EVERY bloke wears a flat cap and braces - except if he's an American hero who's going to end up getting eaten.

Go anywhere in Real London and say, 'How do I get to Crouch End, then?' and they'll either say 'Getting on that bus that says "Crouch End" would be a good bet,' or, if they're a cab driver, 'Nah, you don't weant to use the buses - take you all bleeding night. Hop in and I'll take you there, via Buckingham Palace, Whitehall, Tower Bridge, Richmond Station ...' A few might say: 'Dunno. Never head of it.' They know it as a nondescript dump, in other words. But in Alt. Hollywood London, EVERYONE knows Crouch End as an evil, demonic place; even if they've never set foot there it's public knowledge that it is the pit of Hell and anyone who has to ask the way is doomed the moment they enter.

In that respect, it IS a lot like the Crouch End my mum knows.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 11/14/2008 02:47PM by Jazz_Sue.

Sorry for the last post. I've just had a tooth out and my dentist told me to do something gentle to take my mind off the pain.

Actually, you've done a pretty good job of describing my town there...

And as for "creepy kids who are oddly dressed in Victorian clothing"

Well, you specified 'kids' so that's ok then.

JS, don't apologise - foy you it was upbeat and for anyone a most entertaining description.

You made my day just reading it.

I'm pretty sure I've read it, but I think I get it mixed up with something else-
the curse of reading countless horror anthologies, no doubt...

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Don't ever apologise - just blame the reader for misconstruing the meaning if there is ever any argument. Given that you are creating and that no one sees the complete picture your descriptions of place and people is very good.

I always thought that My Fair Lady would have been more true to life if beginning at Covent Garden opening had the piles of old half rotted vegetables in the corner and the rats sitting on the pillars, along with the stray dogs, the odd pig, and a few wheezing consumptive onlookers.

But look at the movies made in Amerika. They never show the down and outs with their fleas and other assorted body animals. All the so called unfortunates have the best whitest teeth ever seen this side of the equator, there's always a parking spot available, their cars don't get stolen unless it is in the plot, and nobody farts.

These movies should all begin: ....Once upon a time in a far of mythical kingdom there was .......... and end 'an the hero and heroine lived happily ever after, even yea, until the third commercial when the prenup agreement was invoked'.

.....and why did no-one in a James Bond film ever go to the lavatory - unless it was to get killed in a semi-humourous way?

(curse this keyboard and its inability to auto-correct spelling. Hence edit.)



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 11/21/2008 07:48AM by SkidMarks.

SkidMarks Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> JS, don't apologise - foy you it was upbeat and
> for anyone a most entertaining description.
>
> You made my day just reading it.

Upbeat? Upbeat? Look, mate, in my neck of the woods that's just another term for "Managed to avoid getting beat up."
Are you implying my normal posts are manic-depressingly neurotically awful?!

You are. Thank God I'm doing something right then.

PS The apology was for the length of the post, not the content. Mind you, they fell down heavily in one respect: NO FOG. EVERY American Z-list director worth their salt knows that the cobbled streets of Old London Tahn are PERMANENTLY swathed in fog. Either that, or it's raining.

My knowledge is: right idea, wrong location. That's Reigate Hill.



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 11/21/2008 05:15PM by Jazz_Sue.

Just been watching The Prophesy, with Chris Walken, on Sci-Fi. A superbly good movie but still firmly in Alt.Earth territory.

The only native Americans you will ever see - outside of cowboy films - are extremely old ones. And they always wear a traditional leather jerkin and have their hair in plaits, however Western the rest of their appearance is.

Odd, that.

Am under impression that all problems in America are resolved by game of Baseball involving knowing glance accompanied by slight nod of head

You left out the 'hero' pulling out his howitzer and onelining the bad guy about giving him temporary pleasure. Also no mention of car chase wherein several thousands dollars worth of non scrap metal are converted to modern art objects.

[Psychological assessment of 'Go ahead punk. Make my day' which implies hero (sic) has short term satisfaction of pleasure and/or is mentally defective in that he(it) cannot remember back as far as 24 hours.]

Am under impression that all problems in America are caused by heros with Howitzers and people in car chases.

Have however seen film where all problems were solved by game of basketball, knowing glance etc etc.

Jazz Sue: lovely. I knew there was a reason I've never read Stephen King...

I think all films should end with an equivalent to:'Look on the bright side of life.. ..etc.'

And a whistle solo! <proceeds to hear Eric Idle singing in head on loop>