Monthly Archives: February 2022

How Long Between First Draft and Publication?

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Someone recently asked how long it takes between first draft and publication of my novels. The short, boring answer is “it depends”. However, I try to ensure a decent amount of time for reflection between drafts, especially between first and second drafts. I find that an interval of a year, or at least six months, gives the necessary distance for some degree of objectivity.

Trying to rewrite a first draft immediately is fraught with problems. Having just been through the intense rollercoaster of writing novel-length fiction, at that stage, I’m simply not able to discern what should stay, go, be tweaked, or rewritten, with any degree of critical judgement. By that point, I’m often sick of the whole endeavour, convinced it’s rubbish (normally having started thinking it’s a masterpiece).

By now, I’m familiar enough with my own authorial ups and downs to ignore both feelings – the idea that I’m creating a masterpiece, or the idea that it’s rubbish. I know that time and distance will provide the truth. For this reason, some of my early novels will (rightly) never see the light of day. Others I initially deemed rubbish have turned out rather well, when viewed with the distance of time.

In truth, the distance between first draft and publication has greatly varied. For instance, I wrote the first draft of my most popular novel, Children of the Folded Valley, in 2011. I sat on it for six months, then made a few tweaks, before then showing it to my father, who had a superb suggestion to improve it. That precipitated a rewrite, though sadly my father never got to see the finished novel, as he died shortly afterwards. Children of the Folded Valley was ultimately released in 2014, three years after I finished the first draft.

In stark contrast, Echo and the White Howl was written during the summer of 2017, after my youngest son (then eight years old) requested a story about wolves. I don’t write animal fiction, but made the attempt on this occasion, rushing from first draft to self-publication in December of that year, so he’d have the novel in time for Christmas. Hardly anyone has read this novel, but I’m very proud of it. Most importantly, my son loved it.

Most of my published work is in the gothic mystery horror/thriller genre, but normally there are a few years between first draft and publication. For example, my first draft of The Irresistible Summons was written in 2015, but it wasn’t published until 2019. In the interim, there were several revisions and deletions (which I detail here). Again, I’m very pleased with the finished novel.

On top of this, some of my novels have sat on the shelf for years in various states of disrepair – from first draft to nearly ready for publication. The oldest of these is another horror novel, entitled Wormcutter, which I wrote in 2007. Due to some of the subject matter, I’m a bit nervous about ever releasing this one, so it may stay there indefinitely. I’ve also a number of fantasy novels waiting in the wings, the oldest of which dates back to 2008. I hope those see the light of day at some point.

Film Review – The Tragedy of Macbeth

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Credit: Apple/A24

I wanted to see The Tragedy of Macbeth at the cinema rather than on streaming (the latter is always a resentful, through-gritted-teeth last resort). Once again, all good things to those who wait. The film has arrived at my local arts centre, and I went to see it last night. I concur with the majority of critics: The Tragedy of Macbeth is riveting.

Joel Coen’s lean, stripped-down adaptation of Shakespeare’s darkest play is full of remarkable shots that look far better on a big screen. It also features top-notch central performances from Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth respectively. I can’t imagine many people are unfamiliar with the plot, but for those that are, it concerns a Scottish Lord who is convinced by his scheming wife to make a bid for the throne of Scotland, following a sinister prophecy from three witches. This leads to murder, manipulation, more murder, and madness.

Having split from regular collaborator and brother Ethan, Joel Coen tells the story via vivid imagery rendered in stark, beautiful monochrome; shot in the increasingly trendy Academy aspect ratio. One sequence near the start, with Kathryn Hunter playing all three witches in a truly extraordinary piece of limb-twisting, arachnid impersonating performance art, immediately arrests the attention as it announces Coen’s singular vision. We may have seen Macbeth on the big screen before – memorably via Orson Welles, Roman Polanksi, and more recently Justin Kurzel – but never quite like this.

Cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel deserves significant credit for the success of the film at a visual level. The minimal staging and sets have an almost Brechtian effect on the imagination, and Coen’s meticulous framings occasionally reminded me of Ingmar Bergman. Turning plays into cinema can be tricky, but Coen manages this by admitting the theatricality upfront, then subverting it with cinematic trickery that couldn’t possibly be achieved on stage, akin to Busby Berkeley, but obviously without the music.

Some critics have been slightly more reserved in their praise, claiming stripping down the tale to this extent robs it of melodramatic power. I don’t agree. The commanding central performances from Washington and McDormand ensure that is never the case. Scenery is chewed, and famous phrases in the English lexicon once again reveal their dramatic origins (“What’s done is done”, “One fell swoop”, “The be-all and end-all”, and so forth). I should add there are some fine supporting turns, from the likes of Brendan Gleeson (playing the doomed Duncan), Alex Hassell (Ross), Corey Hawkins (Macduff), and Bertie Carvel (Banquo).

As a bleak tragedy examining the seductive lure of power, and the evil in the soul of humanity, I found The Tragedy of Macbeth as gripping as always. As a piece of cinema, this rendering of “the Scottish play” (as superstitious actors are wont to refer to it) is utterly mesmerising. If you can see it in the cinema, do see it in the cinema.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Bloody violence

Film Review – Dog

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Credit: Entertainment Film Distributors/United Artists Releasing

Dog isn’t going to win any awards for originality or change the course of cinema. Nor is it a particularly outstanding example of the man-and-dog-odd-couple subgenre. However, it is surprisingly entertaining, and at least has something to say, albeit nothing particularly profound, about the post-combat traumas of both man and canine, returning from wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The dog of the tile is Lulu, a Belgian Malinois trained to sniff out hiding militants. Too much exposure to war has traumatised her, making her dangerously aggressive to the point that the army wants her to be put down. When the soldier Lulu worked with commits suicide, the family asks to have Lulu present at the funeral.

Injured, traumatised Ranger Briggs (Channing Tatum) is keen to be reassigned back to the combat zone. His commanding officer resists the idea, but Briggs is determined. In the end, Briggs is assigned to drive Lulu across country to the funeral (Lulu doesn’t like to fly). Having attended the funeral, Briggs is instructed to take Lulu afterwards to be put down. In return for this, he will be allowed to return to combat.

So begins a road trip, in which entirely predictable bonding developments ensue. Car upholstery is trashed, and there are one or two other slapstick elements. But there is less of this than we might expect. Indeed, rather than the dog stealing the show, Channing Tatum steals it, giving a convincing and likeable central performance. He also co-directs with Reid Carolin to good effect, working from a screenplay by Carolin and Brett Rodriguez.

One of my favourite parts of the film involves a stop in Portland, in which the Portland “scene” is hilariously satirised. There are one or two other amusing moments, some of which are spoiled by the trailer, but this turned out to be more touching than I expected. Yes, there is nothing remotely surprising about the plot, but that doesn’t mean the ride isn’t enjoyable.

In short, Dog is unlikely to trouble anyone’s ten best films of the year lists, come December, but as a passable time-filler, you could do a lot worse.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Film Review – The Duke

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Credit: Warner Brothers/Pathe

There’s a scene in Dr No where Sean Connery’s James Bond pauses to glance at a painting of the Duke of Wellington in the villain’s lair. This Goya portrait was stolen from London’s National Portrait Gallery in 1961, the implication being Dr No half-inched it. Presumably, this gag was scripted and shot before the truth was revealed concerning the true perpetrator. At any rate, this scene is cleverly incorporated into The Duke, a wonderfully entertaining new film about the man behind the theft, starring Jim Broadbent and Helen Mirren.

Broadbent plays Kempton Bunton, a Geordie soapbox left-wing political agitator renowned for Robin Hood attitudes. Kempton is motivated by a genuine desire to see pensioners and the most vulnerable in the UK obtain free TV licences, circa Newcastle 1961, some forty-odd years before they were finally legislated. Mirren plays Kempton’s long-suffering wife Dorothy, who is sick of his political tirades and playwright aspirations and wants him to get a proper job. Against this backdrop of post-rationing, pre-Beatlemania, grim-up-north industrial Britain, the stage is gradually set for the famous theft.

The Duke is an absolute delight from start to finish. Shamelessly sentimental and feel-good, it mines a rich seam of old-fashioned Ealing style comedy, with just a dash of Ken Loach-ish social realism. It’s a classic underdog story, with the working man getting one over on the toffs. Top-notch performances from Broadbent and Mirren are finely supported by the likes of Fionn Whitehead, Jack Bandeira, Matthew Goode, and Anna Maxwell Martin. With evocative direction from Roger Michell, working from an excellent, witty screenplay by Richard Bean and Clive Coleman, this is first-class entertainment, charming and irresistible.

Films that can make you leave the cinema feeling better than when you came in are a much-underrated commodity, and The Duke has those qualities in spades. It is funny, touching, and uplifting, with just enough grit to ensure it doesn’t become mawkish. Yes, there’s a bit of dramatic licence here and there, but it mainly sticks to the facts. Most poignantly, it touches on a past family tragedy, for which Kempton blames himself. Kempton and Dorothy’s differing methods of coming to terms with this — how it drives a wedge between them, and how it ultimately brings them back together — forms the beating heart of the story, making the film as moving as it is funny.

I wouldn’t be surprised if The Duke winds up on my ten best films of the year list. In the meantime, this comes highly recommended.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Occasional strong language, brief sexual content.

Film Review – Death on the Nile

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Credit: 20th Century Studios

Ever felt a burning desire to know the origin story of Hercule Poirot’s moustache? Me neither. Still, that’s what Kenneth Branagh gives us in the opening scene of his adaptation of Agatha Christie’s classic murder mystery Death on the Nile, in a flashback to the trenches of World War I. Do such changes matter to the overall plot? Not really. Nor does his other narrative tinkering, mostly present to add a more multi-racial texture. The central mystery — one of Christie’s finest, in my opinion — remains solid.

In essence, the plot is as per the novel, and as per the excellent 1978, John Guillermin directed, Anthony Schaffer scripted version starring Peter Ustinov. Poirot finds himself on a Nile cruise with wealthy heiress Linett Ridgeway, now Doyle, having married the handsome Simon Doyle. Simon abandoned his jealous and possibly vengeful prior fiancée Jacqueline De Bellefort, and the newlyweds find themselves being stalked. Eventually, a murder is committed, and there are multiple suspects, all of whom have a potential motive.

Once again, we get an all-star cast that features the likes of Gal Gadot, Leticia Wright, Annette Bening, Sophie Okonedo, Russell Brand, Ali Fazal, Rose Leslie, Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders, Emma MacKay, Armie Hammer, and Tom Bateman. Plenty of fun on that front. Less fun (to my eye, at any rate) is the obviously CGI landscapes (the film was shot entirely in studios). I much prefer location shooting when setting a film around Egyptian landmarks, but then I’m old-fashioned about things like that.

As Poirot, Branagh is as good as he was in his version of Murder on the Orient Express; that is to say, not bad at all, despite the ludicrously big moustache. However, as with that film, this Death on the Nile suffers in comparison to previous versions. The 1978 take is more fun, just as the 1974 Murder on the Orient Express is more atmospheric and sinister.

Still, for those unfamiliar with the novel or any previous version, Branagh’s take — as director and as Poirot — is certainly passable, give or take distracting CGI and a slightly overwrought and melodramatic tone. It isn’t destined for greatness, but it’s a perfectly agreeable couple of hours for fans of this sort of thing. Nice score by Patrick Doyle too.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Film Review – Uncharted

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Credit: Sony

Films based on video games are generally rubbish. The only exceptions I can think of where said films dragged themselves by their fingertips slightly above the level of vapid mediocrity are Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, which proved intermittently entertaining, and Warcraft; an interesting, damaged goods failure for Duncan Jones. So how does Uncharted — based on a video game about which I know nothing — rank in this not particularly inspiring adventure film subgenre?

Rather well, as it happens. I’m a little unsure as to why the film has attracted such poor reviews. Yes, it’s hardly destined for classic status, but director Ruben Fleischer ensures this cheerful treasure hunt adventure romp rattles along at a decent clip, with plenty of puzzles, booby-trapped secret tunnels, chases, action set pieces, and a decent quotient of odd-couple banter between leads Mark Wahlberg and Tom Holland. The latter plays up to his Spider-man persona with nifty moves as a cocktail bartender and stunts of near-superpowered gymnastic dexterity during fight scenes.

The plot is a largely predictable affair, save one deft rug-pulling twist mid-movie, but it gets by on Holland’s charm, as he is drawn into a partnership with Wahlberg’s untrustworthy criminal with connections to Holland’s missing older brother. The treasure they seek is Magellan’s lost gold, and needless to say, they aren’t the only interested party. Villainous billionaire Antonio Banderas is also on the trail, along with the murderous Tati Gabrielle, and Sophia Ali’s can-she-or-can’t-she-be-trusted Australian treasure hunter.

Trust is a key theme in the film, Holland, Wahlberg, and Ali’s characters are all confidence tricksters with a betray-or-be-betrayed outlook on life. Yet the clues to the treasure are designed in such a way that no one person can find it, forcing these characters to work together. At any rate, this is a lot more fun than most reviewers are admitting, and whilst it is hardly in the same league as Raiders of the Lost Ark, it is a diverting couple of hours for fans of adventure stories. Yes, some of the set pieces are big, daft, and defy the laws of physics, but why carp? It certainly didn’t leave me feeling short-changed as undemanding entertainment.

All things considered, on its own terms with low expectations, Uncharted is silly and satisfying, with decent performances from all concerned. The scale makes it worth catching in the cinema, and there are also a couple of sequel set-up mid-credit scenes, so don’t leap up the second the end credits roll.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Film Review – The Souvenir Part II

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The Souvenir Part II' Review: Joanna Hogg's Exquisite Follow-Up - Variety
Credit: Picturehouse/A24

At first glance, Joanna Hogg’s The Souvenir isn’t exactly screaming for a sequel. Charting the fractured journey of film school student Julie (Honor Swinton Byrne) and her affair with a secretive foreign office official who turns out to be a heroin addict, circa mid-1980s London, it seemed a complete story, with nuanced and interesting things to say about manipulative relationships and becoming an artist. Yet The Souvenir Part II is at once a fascinating companion piece; focused more on the artistic process, but also the grieving process, and how the former can provide a cathartic exorcism of the latter.

The plot involves Julie coming to terms with the tragedy in the previous instalment, whilst grappling with the rigours of her dissertation film. Her teachers are not convinced her script is in sufficiently good shape. Julie proceeds regardless, and her screenplay becomes directly informed by her prior relationship.

Here The Souvenir Part II is at its most absorbing, with the process of filmmaking itself providing plenty of dramatic meat. Cast grapple with motivations, crew become frustrated with last-minute changes, tempers fray, and all the while Julie silently endures grief, depression, fear of being alone, and fear of failure.

If that all sounds terribly miserable, the heaviness is niftily undercut by satirical comic relief involving Richard Ayoade’s egomaniacal, opinionated fellow aspiring director. His determination to make an epic political musical and ranting tirades demanding “specific” feedback provides much amusement amid the familiar tale of artist wrestling with personal demons. Given that the film is semi-autobiographical, I imagine some of these scenes were inspired by Hogg’s time at film school. I must admit, I got a little nostalgic for my own University days, seeing the fractious environment of eager, wet-behind-the-ears filmmakers honing their skills.

Honor Swinton Byrne is outstanding as Julie, every bit as good as she was in the previous film, if not better. Again, she is ably supported by Tilda Swinton and James Spencer Ashworth, as her mannered, moneyed, but kind, patient, supportive parents. Their performances give the film surprisingly emotional heft with subtle inflections of compassion and reserve. This is particularly evident in one telling scene where Julie accidentally smashes a beloved ceramic bowl, which also provides a useful metaphor for the film as a whole.

As director, Hogg continues with the style of the previous film, with a mixture of confident master shots, cleverly framed static conversations, as well as energetic verite moments, often set to needle drops from classic 80s pop tracks that cut abruptly to the next scene. There’s even a bravura surreal sequence during a screening – a film within a film, but not quite – blurring fantasy and reality to clever effect. It pays visual homage to Powell and Pressburger, but the sequence is sublime on its own terms; a pivotal, powerfully resonant moment raising the film above the level of its predecessor.

Yes, The Souvenir Part II is that rare gem; a sequel that tops the original. Its intellectual seriousness and earnestness concerning art may not be to all tastes, but the lingering worry I had in the original – that the characters were too privileged to be relatable – is absent this time, given the tragic loss that lurks in the background like a ghost. Speaking of which, it is interesting that Hogg’s next film is set to be a ghost story. On the evidence of this, I think she’ll do rather well at it.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Strong language, sex.

A Quick Plea for Reviews

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I write a lot of fiction; short stories, novellas, and particularly novels. I’ve dabbled in horror, gothic mystery thrillers, dystopian science fiction, children’s adventures, and the odd love story. At various points, I’ve self-published and have been traditionally published by small independent houses. Suffice to say, being a full-time writer is a scary but exciting path. However, indie authors like yours truly really do rely on reviews to get those pesky algorithms to show our work to other potential readers.

All of which brings me to my plea: If you have read or enjoyed any of my novels or short story collections, please can I ask you to leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other site where you might have purchased it? It needn’t be long. One sentence is fine. “I enjoyed it” is fine. It doesn’t need to be an in-depth critical analysis (though by all means do so, if you feel inclined).

Reviews are vital to supporting authors, as I’ve already explained. I don’t ask this because I’m terribly insecure and crave constant affirmation (nice though that is). I ask because taking just a few seconds to leave a high star rating and single sentence really does help support struggling authors like yours truly (yes, you may get out the violins). If you enjoy my work, please consider it, as the more reviews there are, the more I am able to make a living at this.

For those of you who have and continue to leave reviews: Thank you so much. It is appreciated more than I can hope to convey.

My Goodreads page is here.

My Amazon page is here (in the UK) and here (in the US).

My Smashwords page is here.

Film Review – The Eyes of Tammy Faye

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Credit: Searchlight Pictures

Televangelism is a curious phenomenon in American Christan culture, and one which has seen its fair share of financial and sexual scandals. One of the most famous of these centred around Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, the latter of whom constitutes the subject of Michael Showalter’s absorbing, fact-based drama, based on the documentary of the same name. In essence, this romps through the story of her life; from childhood church experiences to Bible college, where she met her husband Jim, her television career, success, scandal, rise, fall, and ironic emergence as a gay icon.

Given the gaudy excesses and dubious theology of much US televangelism, it would have been easy to make a smug, sneering film about the Bakkers. Indeed, televangelists are ripe for a good satirical kicking, and I’ve even put the boot in myself on occasion (this short story, for instance). However, the first thing that struck me about this film was the way, for all her flamboyant theatrics, Tammy Faye is portrayed in an almost entirely sympathetic light. Indeed, one could argue she gets off a bit too lightly (I for one don’t believe she was as ignorant of her husband’s schemes as the film implies). However, her faith is genuine throughout, although often theologically misguided, leading her down deeply dubious prosperity gospel name-it claim-it cul-de-sacs. What endears Tammy Faye (a superb Jessica Chastain) is her kind, non-judgemental attitude, and understanding of Christ-like love, which puts her at odds with her male contemporaries.

Indeed, in one key scene early in the film, at the house of Christian TV pioneer Pat Robertson (Gabriel Olds), Tammy Faye’s fight to get a seat at the all-male table is quite literal. She boldly confronts right-wing figures like Jerry Falwell (Vincent D’Onofrio), a Baptist leader whose anger at the “liberal agenda” gradually brought about the unholy alliance between the American Christian right and the Republican party. Tammy Faye asserts that Christian television should remain apolitical, also challenging Falwell’s attitudes to the gay community, claiming Jesus’s love is unconditional towards all people.

Tammy Faye’s famously compassionate interview with AIDS patient and gay pastor Steve Pieters proved a watershed moment. It greatly endeared her to the gay community at a time when they were even more marginalised and outcast due to the AIDS crisis. Her actions didn’t sit well with her fellow televangelists, but Tammy Faye proved hugely popular with audiences across America.

The film also focuses on her relationship with her husband Jim (Andrew Garfield). After meeting at Bible college, they are cast out, as their relationship is forbidden under college rules. Believing they are called by God, they go on the road, preaching the gospel via children’s puppet shows, eventually winding up with a kids show on Pat Robertson’s CBN network. Jim later created the 700 Club (which Robertson took over and presents to this day), before breaking away with Tammy Faye to start their own network, which also showcased her singing talents.

All this is covered in broad brushstrokes, often via convenient montages, frustratingly skimming over a few details that would have been potentially interesting. The details of the financial and sexual scandals that ensued are mostly omitted, with the emphasis instead placed on Tammy Faye’s pill-popping and deteriorating mental state. It is easy to feel sorry for her, because of her husband’s frequently appalling attitudes. For instance, in one excruciating sequence, he insists she apologises to their partners on air for a sexual indiscretion, which in turn generates more pledges and income for their fundraising. It’s a cruelly Machiavellian move that cements the image of Jim Bakker as a master manipulator.

Jim isn’t portrayed entirely unsympathetically either, but the nuances of his life are understandably side-lined in favour of Tammy Faye. Here I should add Garfield is terrific, as is much of the supporting cast. However, I must confess Vincent D’Onofrio’s Falwell kept making me think of his portrayal of the Kingpin in Daredevil. I half expected him to growl “Vanessa…” at any moment.

That said, this is clearly Jessica Chastain’s film. As the creative driving force (she bought the rights to Tammy Faye’s life, and is also producer), she ensures most of the facts are accurate. There are surprisingly few dramatic embellishments, despite the more unlikely elements of the story. More importantly, she delivers a committed and convincing performance that gives The Eyes of Tammy Faye an urgent credibility, despite its flaws.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Film Review – Moonfall

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Moonfall Review: Roland Emmerich's Most Joyless Disaster Movie | IndieWire
Credit: Entertainment Film Distributors

As so-bad-they’re-good films go, Moonfall is only average so-bad-it’s-good. I realise that makes about as much sense as The Naked Gun’s famous “there’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll live, but only a ten percent chance of that” gag. Then again, sense isn’t something in abundant supply in this latest indulgence of Roland Emmerich’s monomaniacal obsession with depicting biblical scale global destruction. In fact, the script is so nonsensical, it could have been written by an AI algorithm.

The plot involves the usual cast of deeply uninteresting Emmerich-style high-fliers in government, military, and of course the quirky outsider who predicts the catastrophe to come. In the former category we have heroic astronaut Brian Harper (Patrick Wilson), subsequently disgraced due to a NASA cover-up of alien activity on the moon. We also get Jo Fowler (Halle Berry), who finds herself promoted to Head of NASA when the proverbial excrement interfaces with rotating blades. In the latter category, we get KC Houseman (John Bradley), a socially ostracised conspiracy theorist who’s figured out the moon is getting closer to the Earth. All these characters are surrounded by various dull partners, parents, siblings, children, and other family members that we deeply don’t care about.

Of course, eventually, people start listening to KC, but by then, bits of the moon start falling from the sky, tidal waves trash cities, gravity waves suck oceans up into space, and the laws of physics generally go haywire. I’m sure there are enough scientific inaccuracies in this film to knock the moon out of orbit, but I’m no scientist, so instead, I suppose I ought to comment on the dramatic merits. However, it barely seems worth it in a film this wilfully stupid. I fail to see how anyone could view this as anything other than a parody.

Not only does Emmerich riff on every notable apocalyptic film of the last couple of decades – including mainstream commercial hits such as Gravity and arthouse critical darling Melancholia – but also his own work. Certain shots could have been cut and spliced from previous Emmerich-helmed destruction porn flicks 2012 and The Day After Tomorrow. Later, the film makes a half-hearted attempt at 2001: A Space Odyssey meaning-of-life grandeur, with a side-order of Contact, and even a dash of Crimson Tide (one exchange near the end, during a standoff between military generals, repeats dialogue from a famous scene in said film almost verbatim). It’s all brain-meltingly idiotic and makes Geostorm look like a grittily realistic expose of climate change in comparison.

Despite a plodding script peppered with tin-ear dialogue, unengaging performances, and a tedious orgy of weightless CGI visual effects, there is some guilty pleasure to be wrung from this ludicrous mess. A film this ridiculous is difficult to hate, as one gets the impression Emmerich is winking at the audience. But viewed on these terms, it is still only intermittently entertaining. Throughout the film, I could sense my IQ level slowly dropping, and began to sympathise with HAL during his demise in 2001. To paraphrase: My mind is going Roland, I can feel it. I can feel it. There is no question about it.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13