Monthly Archives: June 2021

Film Review – Another Round

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There’s a scene early in Thomas Vinterberg’s Another Round that underscores why the excellent Mads Mikkelsen has become one of my favourite actors. Mikkelsen plays disillusioned, weary, middle-aged history teacher Martin, who is out with three friends and colleagues to celebrate a birthday. After some initial pleasant conversation, Martin gets visibly emotional about the state of his life, to the concern of his friends. The elegant subtlety of the performance in this unexpected scene turn is a masterpiece of understated, leading-life-of-quiet-desperation nuance.

In view of Martin’s state of mind, his friends suggest an experiment to test the research of a Norwegian scientist who wrote a controversial paper claiming humans have an alcohol deficiency that means they fail to operate at optimum levels. The idea is to maintain a certain level of alcohol in the bloodstream and see whether it transforms their lives for the better. The four friends decide to give this a go – with much enthusiasm – though said experiment has to be kept secret for a variety of reasons. For one thing, their principal is cracking down on alcohol use due to concerns her teenage charges might be going overboard on the binge drinking.

At first, the experiment appears to work. Despite the odd side effect, like being unable to drive himself home, Martin finds himself reinvigorated and reenergised, throwing himself into teaching with great enthusiasm, turning bored students into inspired students. He amusingly cites famous heavy-drinking high achievers such as Hemingway and Churchill, whilst ensuring his lessons are never about mere facts but the life lessons that can be drawn from history.

His colleagues also find their teaching improves. The music teacher’s choir becomes more harmonious, the psychology teacher boosts the confidence of an anxious student in unconventional ways, and the football coach’s encouragement of an ostracised child yields cheer-out-loud results. But the four friends decide to test further aspects of the Norwegian scientist’s paper, upping the levels of alcohol. No prizes for guessing how that will work out.

At this point, the film ceases the be a Whisky Galore! style paean to boozing and a more nuanced take on the difference between binge drinking and alcoholism. The consequences of the former may be socially unfortunate, but the consequences of the latter can be deadly. Vinterberg and Tobias Lindholm’s screenplay explores this without a hint of judgemental editorialising, simply letting the events speak for themselves.

Another Round is also about middle-age cynicism, mid-life crisis (though mercifully bereft of teacher-sleeping-with-younger-student cliches), and a celebration of male friendship. Mikkelsen is quite superb in the lead, and for my money, this ranks among his best performances, alongside A Royal Affair and The Hunt. The supporting cast – Thomas Bo Larsen, Magnus Millang, and Lars Ranthe – are also excellent. The film isn’t afraid to explore the darker corners of its subject, but ultimately the vibe is poignant, compassionate, humane, and uplifting. And yes – a little bit provocative to the puritanical crowd, which is another plus as far as I’m concerned.

Justly rewarded with the Best Non-English Language Film Oscar at this year’s Academy Awards, Another Round is probably my favourite film so far this year. As such, it is very highly recommended. Do go and see it, and for goodness’ sake see it before the inevitable, recently announced Hollywood remake arrives to muddy the waters.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Film Review – Fast & Furious 9

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Remember action films with car chases that actually felt fast and, well, furious? The French Connection, To Live and Die in LA, Bullitt, Mad Max, The Driver, The Terminator, The Bourne Identity… All of these felt dangerous. There is real jeopardy in those nerve-shredding, adrenaline-pumping sequences. You sit in the cinema on the edge of your seat, gripping the armrest, hardly daring to breathe.

Fast & Furious 9 is not one of those films.

To be fair, the Fast and Furious franchise has never set out to achieve gritty realism. I’m aware the series has a fervent following, and that increasingly ludicrous stunts are part of what makes them popular. But to compare the series to James Bond, this instalment is Moonraker, metaphorically speaking. At least you could just about suspend disbelief with the first film, which is perhaps more akin to Goldfinger. This one is too much, even for a Fast and Furious film.

The returning cast members – Vin Diesel, Michelle Rodriguez, Jordana Brewster, Tyrese Gibson, Ludacris, et al – might make self-referential, wink-at-audience jokes about how they never seem to get a scratch, but that doesn’t make the action scenes any more convincing. When you are dealing with cars leaping across canyons with grappling hooks, or reckless use of electromagnets to such a degree that it is impossible to believe innocent bystanders aren’t getting wiped out in the process, the whole thing has degenerated into cartoon. In one sense this is true, in view of the liberal use of CGI. Perhaps this is what separates the likes of Fast & Furious 9 from better recent action pictures like Mission Impossible: Fallout. At least in that film, you know Tom Cruise is performing most of those stunts for real. In this, I half expected the Road Runner and Wile E Coyote to turn up. They wouldn’t have been out of place. And that’s before we’ve even got to the bit where a couple of characters head into space (hence the Moonraker analogy).

The plot is contrived nonsense about a computer hacking thing-of-ultimate-power falling into the wrong hands. Said wrong hands turn out to be Vin Diesel’s long-lost estranged brother John Cena, who supposedly was involved in the death of his father. The shoehorning of messages about the importance of family into this petrolhead nonsense was never particularly convincing to begin with, but here it is especially contrived. Further convoluted and silly globe-trotting plot developments ensue, including other characters thought dead returning to life. At least there’s some good location work, including scenes in Tokyo, London, and Edinburgh.

Justin Lin’s direction is as slick as in previous films, and the film isn’t completely without entertainment value. There are a couple of amusing cameos from the likes of Helen Mirren, Kurt Russell, and another individual stuck in mid-credits purgatory (assuming you’ve not left the cinema in a punch-drunk action movie overload stupor by then). But all things considered, Fast & Furious 9 is far too long, headache-inducing, and stretches the definition of ridiculous to breaking point.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Film Review – Monster Hunter

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Monster Hunter is the latest deeply indifferent slab of video game inspired monster movie noise from Paul WS Anderson (not to be confused with Paul Thomas Anderson), whose career “highlights” include the interminable Resident Evil series, the shared universe ghastliness of Alien vs Predator, and a thoroughly underwhelming take on The Three Musketeers. He also once helmed the agreeably incendiary Shopping, and damaged-goods-but-still-fascinating cult sci-fi horror gem Event Horizon, but his tepid and uninteresting career path since all but obliterates the memory of those more ambitious pictures.

Anderson is perhaps best known for the inexplicably popular Mortal Kombat – a film I know has devotees, but one that I have never cared for. Like almost all video game-based films, it proves about as interesting as standing behind someone watching them play a video game. The sort-of exceptions to this principle are Mike Newell’s Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, which is at least mildly diverting in a poor man’s Raiders of the Lost Ark sort of way, and Duncan Jones’s Warcraft, which whilst ultimately proving a failure, is an interesting failure with big cinematic ambitions. However, Monster Hunter is not an exception.

Perhaps it would be generous to start with the few positives I can dredge up from this noisy, irritating mess. Some of the creature design is first-rate, the visual effects are of a high standard, and a couple of the action set pieces have an agreeable kineticism. One early sequence in a giant spider nest is an effectively gnarly mash-up of Aliens and the Shelob’s Lair sequence in The Lord of the Rings. Then again, Monster Hunter rips off (or, with a certain generosity of spirit, pays homage to) several classic monster set-pieces from vastly superior works.

The plot, such as it is, involves Anderson’s regular lead Milla Jovovich and her squad of nondescript military goons being inexplicably plunged into a parallel universe populated by savage beasties. Said goons are promptly dispatched, leaving Jovovich alone with a mysterious hunter (Tony Jaa), who doesn’t speak English. Again, to give credit where it is due, the physicality of their non-verbal communication works moderately well, as initial hostility gives way to working together.

That’s about as positive as I can get about this film, as it really is strictly by-the-numbers stuff, albeit deployed with a certain stripped-down leanness that makes it a little more tolerable than other video game-based films. It seems pointless to complain about rudimentary elements like a decent plot that makes sense, interesting character arcs, or a modicum of wit, charm, and heart. None of the above are present, and throughout the film, I found myself deeply, deeply not caring about anyone in it. Even the late second act appearance of Ron Perlman couldn’t save the day. It takes exceptional talent to waste the presence of Perlman, yet Anderson somehow manages this astonishing feat.

I am unfamiliar with the computer game on which this is based, so perhaps those who played and enjoyed it may derive some pleasure from Monster Hunter. For me though, nonsensical video game plotting has no place in cinema. I found the entire business yet another expensive waste of celluloid (or hard drive space, as I don’t think this was shot on 35mm). For video game or monster movie completists only.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Echo and the White Howl Revisited

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In late 2017, I self-published my one and only animal fiction adventure novel, Echo and the White Howl. Set in the Alaskan wilderness, it’s a gripping revenge story packed with hunts, blizzards, and dangerous journeys, with a mysterious, supernatural edge. It also proved one of the most challenging projects of my writing career.

I decided to pen this novel after my youngest son begged me to write him a story about wolves. Although I initially resisted the notion, rather irritatingly, an excellent narrative occurred to me, and the voices in my head wouldn’t shut up about it. In the end, much to my son’s delight, I had no choice but to write the damn thing. In the process, I learned three important lessons:

Writing animal fiction is bloody difficult

Animal fiction is a fiend because it is tricky to tread the line between assigning relatable human attributes to animal characters whilst making sure their knowledge doesn’t go beyond what they would naturally know. A myriad of choices complicates this, from turns of phrase to the wolves’ knowledge of the world around them. For example, I had to weed out a lot of human expressions from the dialogue or create wolf equivalents. A wolf wouldn’t be unable to put its finger on the problem, for instance, as they have paws. It also gets awkward when describing human devices of which they have no knowledge (for example guns). In addition, when hearing about places beyond their natural habitat (eg cities, or the sea), again, they have to be seen to not fully comprehend such concepts.

Animal fiction is a technique, not a genre

Animal fiction can incorporate everything from comedy to satire, allegory, adventure, fantasy, romance, and more. In my case, Echo and the White Howl is a coming-of-age adventure tale aimed at anyone capable of reading it and up. The book combines atmospheric, dirt-and-snow-under-the-paws Alaskan wilderness realism with a few mystical elements. In keeping with the traditions of much animal fiction, humans lurk on the narrative periphery as an ever-present menace. Key inspirations include Watership Down, Bambi, and bizarrely, Twin Peaks.

Suspension of disbelief: Where to incorporate research, and where to ignore it

Again, this was a fiend. I undertook the usual deluge of research for writing this novel, but how much of it I should incorporate became a constant question. I have included elements of how cubs are raised, how a pack hunts, the challenges to become Alpha, and so on. However, science tells me wolves see in black and white. Needless to say, I ignored the latter point and opted for poetic licence, for much the same reason George Lucas opted for poetic licence when deciding we should hear those cool laser sounds and explosions in the Star Wars space battles, despite the fact that space is a vacuum, and we’d hear nothing were such battles to take place in reality.

Beyond all of this, I had a particularly difficult time coming up with a good title. The first draft was penned under the unimaginative moniker Wolf Story, but try as I might, I could not settle on a proper name. My excellent friend Yasmine Nuoraho, who designed the wonderful cover for the novel, trolled me with many unhelpful suggestions, including A Tale of Tails and Lupine Larks. Yet in the end, it was she who came up with Echo and the White Howl, which is nicely enigmatic.

All things considered, I don’t think I will ever attempt animal fiction again (although never say never), but I am immensely proud of Echo and the White Howl, and dare I say, I think it deserves a much bigger readership. A number of people have read some odd things into it (one person insisted it was a Brexit allegory) but whilst some of my familiar themes are present – megalomaniacal abuse of power for instance – I certainly didn’t write the novel with any clear message in mind. I just wanted it to be a first-rate adventure story.

Echo and the White Howl can be purchased from Amazon here (in the UK), and here (in the US).

Film Review – First Cow

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Kelly Reichardt’s First Cow, based on the novel The Half-Life by Jon Raymond, is a glacially paced, quirky, quietly touching fable. Set in 19th Century Oregon, it concerns gifted but unappreciated chef Cookie (John Magaro), who is travelling west with a group of fur-trappers. Cookie forms an unusual friendship with on-the-run immigrant King-Lu (Orion Lee), whom he first encounters hiding naked in the forest. Some years later, the pair are reunited. They bond over entrepreneurial dreams, eventually deciding to sell cakes made with milk stolen from the region’s only cow. Said cow belongs to wealthy, pompous landowner Chief Factor (Toby Jones), who becomes an important customer, despite lacking the wit to question where the milk is coming from to make the cakes in the first place.

The film opens in the present, with a shot of a tanker making its way down a river; an image later reflected in the first sight of the eponymous cow two hundred years previously, when it floats across the river on a raft. Back in the present, a woman and her dog come across two skeletons buried next to each other in very shallow earth. From this, the ultimate end of the central characters can be extrapolated. Their poignant friendship is doomed.

Performances are good, especially from the leads, whose odd-couple interactions have a hint of Butch and Sundance, as well as reminding me of the humane undercurrents from characters in Jim Jarmusch films like Down by Law. Cinematographer Christopher Blauvert also makes a vital contribution. The film is shot in 1:33:1 Academy aspect ratio, instead of the more common 1:85:1 or 2:39:1, which allows for more personal framing, and sometimes creates an effect of blurring characters into the landscape. This aspect ratio has had something of a renaissance in recent years, among artier directors.

Reichardt’s understated fabulist tone allows for interesting undercurrents concerning platonic love, friendship, freedom, and dreams, amid the harsh realities of trying to scratch a living on the frontier. On the other hand, I have to emphasise this isn’t a film for everyone. The unhurried pace will sorely test the patience of some viewers, who may find the hypnotic atmosphere somewhere between mesmerising and sleep-inducing. I heard at least one snore from an audience member who had nodded off at the screening I attended.

All that said, First Cow is an agreeably offbeat, well-acted, well-directed, heartfelt piece of cinema.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Rating: PG-13

Film Review – In the Earth

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After a superfluous and unconvincing Rebecca remake, Ben Wheatley is back on familiar turf with bizarre folk horror flick In the Earth. Recalling previous Wheatley horror gems Kill List and A Field in England, as well as other recent notable genre pieces such as The Ritual, In the Earth isn’t going to be everyone’s cluster of mushrooms, but it will be of interest to those who like their horror slightly on the psychedelic side.

Set during an unexplained pandemic that hints at something rather nastier than Covid, the plot concerns Martin Lowery (the excellent Joel Fry), a scientist researching crop yields. He arrives at an unusually fertile woodland quarantined exclusively for scientific research. Dismissing as superstition local folklore concerning a powerful and malevolent entity residing in the woods, Martin heads off into the forest to a rendezvous with fellow scientist Olivia Wendall (Hayley Squires), accompanied by park ranger Alma (Ellora Torchia). In films of this kind, it’s never a good idea to ignore scary ancient writings, occult pictures, and creepy tales of missing people losing their heads in the heart of the woods, so it’s immediately clear this particular woodland excursion is going to end in tears.

Actually, the tears begin quite early on, when Martin and Alma are assaulted in their tents by a mystery assailant, leading to broken equipment and stolen footwear. Traipsing through woodland on bare feet proves as miserable as you could expect. Nasty injuries and even nastier surgeries ensue, administered by initially friendly but obviously suspicious woodland dweller Zach (Reece Shearsmith). What follows is just the beginning of an eerie, enigmatic, hallucinatory nightmare where ancient paganism and obsessive scientific research meet.

This is a very bizarre and deeply unsettling horror concoction; too surreal and cerebral for the tab A fits into slot B slasher crowd, but catnip for connoisseurs of the creepy. Performances are good, particularly from Fry who weeps and winces with every stitch, amputation, and grisly mutilation that becomes his misfortune to endure. Wheatley makes tremendous use of dirt-under-the-fingernails English forests, creating an atmosphere of old religion mysticism where perhaps ancient pagan deities still lurk. Nick Gillespie’s cinematography is vivid and atmospheric, and Clint Mansell contributes an immersive, electronica fused score that recalls the work of John Carpenter.

Wheatley piles on the disorientating, kaleidoscopic imagery accompanied by disconcerting use of sound to tremendously frightening effect. His signature cuts to black are present and correct, as well as subliminal frames and nightmarish, stroboscopic juxtapositions. The latter are intense enough to warrant a full-frame caption at the start of the film, warning about the potential for triggering photosensitive epilepsy.

What’s it all about? I’m not really sure. Possibly it’s intended as a reflection of pandemic paranoia, or an ecological warning, with hints of Mother Nature reasserting itself over an environment damaged by humans. Or perhaps it’s just a bloody sinister lost-in-the-woods nightmare, that sometimes recalls The Blair Witch Project. The lack of answers and narrative cohesion in the finale will annoy those that dislike ambiguity, but that said, In the Earth is an impressive recovery of balance for Wheatley, and a fine return to form.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Strong language, violence, bloody injury detail, disturbing scenes.

Medium Update

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I’ve been very active on Medium over the last month. I’ve even started my own publication entitled Simon Dillon Cinema for the film reviews you see on this blog, to get them to a wider readership. Obviously they will continue to be available for free here.


To the matter at hand, here are some articles that you might have missed, in various Medium publications. Check them out by following the links below. Please “clap” generously by clicking your mouse on the “clap” icon, as that is a huge help to me, trying to get the Algorithmic Overlords to distribute my work further. Thank you.

The Writing Cooperative

What Four Fantasy Novel Antagonists Tell Us About Their Authors

The beliefs of a novelist can be discerned by studying their villains.

Ironic Character Arcs

Difficult to craft but brilliant when well-written.

DISCLAIMER: The Writing Cooperative submission guidelines require I use “US English”. I know this will upset my fellow Queens-English Brits, hence the “trigger warning” (if you’ll forgive my use of an obscenity).

Fan Fare

Captain America: Civil War: 5 Years On

Yes, I know it’s too soon for a retrospective, but this is my favourite Marvel film.

My Favourite Jump Scares

Ten films where the much-maligned cheap trick proved particularly effective.

Midnight Run: Charles Grodin’s Best Film

A film ripe for rediscovery, and a tribute to the late, great, comedic actor.

Frame Rated

#NotAllRemakes

A guide through notable remakes in cinema history: the good, the bad, and the on par.

Cinemania

Seven Times Steven Spielberg Changed Cinema

The lasting influence of Hollywood’s greatest director.

Dr. Strangelove versus Kind Hearts and Coronets

I can’t decide which is my all-time favourite dark comedy.

Everything Wrong with the Worst Scene in Revenge of the Sith

How I would have tackled the pivotal moment in George Lucas’s third prequel.

That’s all for this month’s Medium round-up. If you have a Medium account, please consider following my page. Thank you.

Film Review – In the Heights

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In the Heights, based on the stage musical by Hamilton creator Lin-Manuel Miranda, is, I suspect, destined to become a runaway smash akin to The Greatest Showman, which received sniffy reviews from critics, but repeat business adoration from the great unwashed. I was with the sniffy critics on that occasion, but reviews so far for In the Heights have been far better. Perhaps this time I’m destined to be at odds with both critics and audiences because frankly I also struggled to connect with In the Heights.

This is a shame, as I really, really wanted to like it. I have no problem with the plot being predictable in films of this kind, but I found the characters little more than one-dimensional soap-opera ciphers. The bulk of the narrative concerns bodega owner Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) who aspires to return to the Dominican Republican, rebuild his ancestral home, and open a beach bar. His dream is complicated by romantic inclinations towards Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), who wants to be a fashion designer. There’s a subplot involving his friend Benny (Corey Hawkins), who still holds a candle for Nina (Leslie Grace), whose father Kevin (Jimmy Smits) made huge sacrifices to send her to college, but she’s thrown in the towel because she misses her block. Oh, and because she was lonely and ended up on the wrong end of some nasty racial profiling.

These mini-dramas play themselves out against an extremely extrovert tight-knit community of wise matriarchal grandmothers, gossipy hair salon workers, ice-cream sellers, and various other struggling business owners, not to mention families packed into tight-squeeze flats, rattling due to the nearby L-train. Everyone has dreams, but everyone battles to make ends meet, and the slow creep of gentrification lingers as an ever-present threat to this struggling but supportive Latin community.

All of this sounds fine on paper, and indeed some of the musical numbers are good; the signature In the Heights number for instance, and 96,000; a song in which cast members speculate about what they’d do with a winning lottery ticket. The latter has some amusing animation, innovative underwater shots, and a neat swimming-pool-based Busby Berkeley homage. I also enjoyed some of the other visual flourishes, such as Vanessa’s imagined colourful clothing material unrolling over city blocks, or a gravity-defying romantic dance number on the side of a building. For this, credit belongs to Crazy Rich Asians director Jon M Chu, who certainly adds style, and largely resists the temptation for MTV style whiplash editing.

And yet… For me In the Heights lacks depth. It skirts around a couple of serious issues, such as racism and the undocumented immigrants known as DREAMers, but these concerns are largely squeezed out in favour of bludgeoning the audience with a mandatory feel-good vibe. The film demands that the viewer surrenders to this, but I found myself unable to be swept away by it. The whole thing just felt too earnest, too superficial, and too reluctant to include the rougher complexities of real life. Under such circumstances, there’s only so much following-your-dreams-can-be-hard pseudo-inspiration I can stomach before my eyes start to roll.

After the misery of recent times, In the Heights is precisely the kind of escapism that I suspect will find a large audience. But however well-choreographed, performed, and directed, this film failed to hit the spot for me. I suspect I will prove to be in a minority, but there it is.

UK Certificate: PG

US Certificate: PG

Film Review – Dream Horse

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Dream Horse is typical of a particular kind of British feel-good film with roots in the traditions of every from Ealing comedies to more recent underdog stories such as The Full Monty, Brassed Off, Calendar Girls, and Military Wives. Based on a true story, the drama concerns small-town Welsh shop assistant Jan Vokes (Toni Colette), whose life of routine drudgery is given a shot in the arm when she forms a local syndicate to breed and train a racehorse.

Colette is excellent in the lead, with a spot-on Welsh accent. Damian Lewis provides admirable support as Howard Davies, a man whose previous involvement in a racing syndicate almost cost him his house and marriage. Elsewhere Owen Teale is splendid as Jan’s self-loathing but supportive husband Brian. The other colourful members of the syndicate add plenty of character, as our working-class heroes go up against the toffs at the races to suitably outrageous effect. An agreeably snooty Peter Davison pops up as rival racehorse owner Lord Avery, but a more sympathetic wealthy character is found in Nicholas Farrell’s horse trainer Philip Hobbs.

Screenwriter Neil McKay spares us no against-the-odds trope, with every plot development well and truly signposted and duly ticked off. From scepticism to gradual support from the locals, through gaining the support of Hobbs, initial race triumphs, internal syndicate disagreements, initially unsupportive wives being won over, sudden death, the all-is-lost moment, and the miraculous, triumphant finish. And yes – we aren’t spared the eye-rolling cliché of here-are-the-real-people over the end credits.

And yet, although Dream Horse is hardly challenging cinema, and although it often reminded me of superior equine dramas (Seabiscuit for instance), it is well directed by Euros Lyn (a name I mainly associate with Doctor Who episodes), and it’s impossible not to admire Jan’s sheer spirit and determination. The film occasionally makes some well-judged political jabs to leaven the sentimentality (Howard’s furious tirade to his tax avoidance firm boss about helping the rich get richer, for instance). However, for the most part, this isn’t a Ken Loach polemic, but a pleasant, entertaining, satisfying watch that pushes all the right buttons, and is suitable for all ages. Despite the shameless audience manipulation, you will feel better going out than you did coming in, and any film that can do that deserves praise.

UK Certificate: PG

US Certificate: PG

Writing Update: The White Nest

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With the exception of a couple of short stories, last year I took an extended break from fiction writing after finishing the first draft of a novel tentatively titled The White Nest. This story proved every bit as “personal” as Children of the Folded Valley. In fact, given the level of raw nerve jabbing involved, it’s safe to say I did something of a “Truman Capote”. What I mean by that is Capote was scarred to such a degree after writing his masterpiece In Cold Blood that he never finished another novel.

I am not comparing myself to such a literary giant, nor did I do anything as drastic as attend executions for my art, as he did, but the painful truth is that writing The White Nest affected me in ways I’m still coming to terms with. For some time, I wondered if my “voices” would ever return. I wrote a bit about that experience in this article on Medium. Thankfully I can report that the voices are back.

This year so far, I have written the first novel in a planned trilogy of fantasy stories that exist in the same Universe as my as-yet unpublished dark fairy tale novel The Faerie Gate. However, despite being pleased that I’ve managed to write another novel, I’m not yet convinced the quality is high enough to warrant being shared with the world. I feared the same for The White Nest, but having finally braved another look at the manuscript, I am pleased to report that is not the case.

The White Nest (I’m keeping the real title secret for now) is another gothic mystery, at least in part. It is also a coming-of-age story, a romance, a conspiracy thriller, and obviously it contains some strong horror elements. It deals in themes of complicated sibling relationships, parental fears, and false guilt. Reading it back, I can see why the process of writing it had such an effect on me, due to some of the painful personal experiences on which I am drawing. That said, I think readers will simply enjoy it as a vivid, gripping, page-turning mystery, which was always my primary intention. I think it might contain the best first act I’ve ever written. I can’t say if the ending is up to the same standard, as I’ve yet to reread it, but so far the signs are promising.

In terms of plot, The White Nest represents something of a departure from my previous gothic mysteries, in that the protagonist is male. I’m keeping the specifics under wraps for now, but I can tell you the story contains a full checklist of my favourite gothic tropes, including a sleepy south-west England village, haunted forest, eerie mansion, secret tunnels, dubious secret experimental facilities, occult secret societies, ghosts, demons, curses, mysterious disappearances, childhood memories buried by trauma, rug-pulling twist ending… you name it. You could even call this novel Now That’s What I Call A Simon Dillon Gothic Mystery if you really wanted to, as it is something of a compilation of my preoccupations, genre wise.

Here are some photographs of locations that inspired settings for certain sequences in The White Nest. The novel is predominantly set in Cornwall, but much of the landscape is based on the rugged North Devon coast. However, the first part of the novel is set in Oxford. One key scene takes place in Port Meadow.

Once I finish a second draft of The White Nest, I am moving on to a new gothic mystery, one that’s been gestating in my mind for some time. It is getting to the point where it is an itch I have to scratch, and I’m looking forward to developing it. In the meantime, I may well release a volume of short stories in the future, as I’ve now got quite a nice pile of these, and it would be nice to have them all together in one place. As ever, watch this space.