Yesterday morning I was getting coffee. This is not news.
I turned from the counter and bumped into a girl. I had not seen her there and I had also not seen her in two years.
Let me take you back. Fathom this out.
Three years ago, I trekked the Grand Canyon for charity (don’t like to talk about it).
Of the new people that I met, it was clear that there were maybe three who I really hit it off with. One of them was this girl who I would bump into in Monmouth on a Tuesday morning in 2018.
For a year after the trek we were the best of friends. She would leave these brilliant, rambling voice notes on my phone and I would have to return them despite the fact it wasn’t my preference. Regardless of what you may think, I do not just like the sound of my own voice. At some point towards the end of that year of friendship we had a stupid falling out and I think she told me to fuck off and we hadn’t spoken since.
The point is, don’t let some stupid thing get in the way of being around the people who are good to you. Good people are hard to find.
Note: This post is full of spoilers for the films featured. Consider this fair warning.
Earlier this year I put together my list of Desert Island Discs, to save me having to go on Radio 4 and discuss them in person. You know me, I don’t like to leave my flat without good cause.
This led to another conversation, more recently, about the eight films I would choose to take to a desert island with me. It’s taken me a lot longer to put the list together. The first draft was fifteen films long. I’ve got it down to eight and they’re exactly what you would expect of a droll indie prole boy. Check it out.
1. Almost Famous.
I can’t remember when I first saw Almost Famous. I know it was before I went to university. I know it was during the phase that continues to this day when I was obsessed with the culture/counter-culture of the ’60s/’70s. The thought of this young man who had all this vinyl and got to hang out with rockstars and write, was always going to appeal to me. If you add groupies into that mix, especially when one of them was played by Kate Hudson and named after a song/lane, then it’s going to completely be my bag. Also, Billy Crudup with a moustache.
For a long time it was my go to film when I had girls over to my parents house and needed to put something on before I awkwardly tried to yawn-and-stretch myself into a viable position for bad kissing and offbeat dry-humping. To this day, this moment in this film just makes me smile.
2. Pulp Fiction
On a very base level, everything about this film is incredible.
The cast. The soundtrack. The script, the pacing, the blood and the dancing.
This scene is the single coolest thing that has ever happened. A ’50s-themed bar, all these little references to listen out for, Uma Thurman absolutely killing it in the role of Mia Wallace.
I was too young to see it when it came out but I remember the poster in the windows of video shops. The image of her on that bed was iconic and even as a kid I knew the film had to be special.
I remember my friend Mike (who was forever teaching me what was cool when it came to films and music) buying this and Reservoir Dogs for me. They were some of the first DVDs I owned and I watched them until I memorised the Ezekiel 25:17 speech.
3. Trainspotting The following scene was such a departure from how gritty and real other elements of the film were that it made me think about whether it was ok to do this as a filmmaker, and in that, I recognised Boyle’s strength. You could never disappear into a toilet but somehow, I felt this on a deep level.
On top of the surrealism of this scene, the film is so slick and sexy, it’s such a compliment to the book. The cast are all spot on. Young Ewan has got it going on.
4. The Departed.
I did not think this film would be for me. I avoided seeing it in the cinema until enough people were talking about it that I took a chance. I had been sorely mistaken, something I’m always happy to hear.
It’s another film led by music. That’s definitely a theme in what I enjoy.
It’s brutal. It has this incredible back-and-forth where you don’t ever know who you are routing for. Everyone is at the top of their game. Jack Nicholson is outright terrifying. All the accents make it sound a lot more dramatic. Mark Wahlberg has terrible hair. What’s not to love?
5. Shaun of the Dead
Everything about this film is gold. It taught me a lot about writing and about timing. It taught me about setting and love and ice cream. I can’t help but smile whenever I see it and it’s constantly on ITV2.
For my 30th birthday I had a private screening of the film having spent three months beforehand watching it and pulling it apart with my friend Scott as we tried to work out what made it work and put it into a show we were writing together. We got some of the way there but it renewed my love for Pegg, Frost and Wright.
6. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
I fairly recently saw this on a rooftop in east London. It was far from the first time I had seen it but I silently wept as it played out. I couldn’t work out why for a long time afterwards.
It turns out that it’s because it’s the most honest film about break ups I think I have ever seen and depending on where you’re at when you see anything, depends on the way it hits you. It’s become my go to Valentines Day film, which probably says a lot about me. Everyone, even Dunst, brings their A-game. Jim Carrey and Kate Winsley essentially swap places on their typecast characters to play Joel and Clementine and I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.
7. Nowhere Boy
I’m always going to be here for Beatles-related content and Aaron Johnson’s turn as a young Lennon (“glasses John!”) is really something to behold. It covers him as a teen, getting the Quarrymen together and basically having a terrible time when it comes to his family. There are some nice nods to what The Beatles would become and how they didn’t just happen upon that.
It’s a human story and it’s terribly sad in places but music saves him and I will always have time for that.
Again, I can remember showing it to girls as a way of impressing on them how deep I was.
8. The Darjeeling Limited
My friend Ben recommended Darjeeling to me when I was staying with him in Cambridge. He went to bed and I put it on. I was immediately won over. As the minutes rolled by it hit me more and more. I had never seen anything like it. The sibling rivalry. The decor on the train. The characters. Bill Murray. I fell in love.
I borrowed heavily from it for my first novel, somewhat obviously in places.
I had previously seen Rushmore and maybe The Royal Tenenbaums but the backdrop of India and this particular brand of family squabbling appealed. I’ve since become a huge Wes Anderson fan and insist on seeing his films in the cinema.
This sequence was so obvious (they’re literally throwing away their baggage) but it was in slow-mo and The Kinks were playing and if that’s not everything you need then I don’t know what is.
Can we all just take a moment to appreciate George Harrison?
I’m sat watching Living in the Material World for the I-don’t-know-how-many-th time and I just adore him and everything that he was about. What an incredible talent and a great man.
I kept hearing this song. I knew I didn’t know the title but there was no doubt in my mind that I knew exactly who it was by. Daniel Johnston.
Johnston is an American singer-songwriter, artist, musician and outsider who seems to collect a certain type of fan. I include myself in that number. I came to Johnston via Cobain, as I imagine a lot of people did. Anything Cobain wore was fraught with intrigue and I remember seeing this stalk-eyed alien t-shirt on him that was saying “Hi, how are you?” and I thought it was great and very little besides.
It was only later that I found out it was the cover art of a Daniel Johnston album of the same name and then I listened to it and it broke my fucking heart.
Now, I hear his song The Story Of The Artist everywhere and it has grated me over a bolognese composed of my own organs. I can’t think of anyone who sounds like they they understand the deep end of human emotions like him. His song is being used to advertise fruit-based devices. I won’t share that here. I will tell you to listen to this song in full:
Last weekend, in a move that can only be described as ‘trying to find material for a book’, I went to Amsterdam with my dad and two brothers. It was Father’s Day and he’s also due to get married in August so it was a joint stag/Father’s Day treat for him. The greatest joy was in the fact he had no idea what we were doing or where we were going.
Without his knowledge, I broke into his house and stole a series of polo shirts, his passport and a toothbrush. Then we arranged to pick him up at six in the morning and took him to the airport. Then I remembered that he hates flying and usually pops a couple of valium before take off.
We had a weekend. I can’t say if it was great or not but it was certainly a weekend. The bulletpoint highlights are the following:
Dad ordering a cappuccino in every coffee shop we went to
Getting turned away from the only cultural thing we had planned because we hadn’t booked tickets
Watching my dad’s horrified face when I showed him our AirBnB (he slept fully clothed with his passport in his pants)
Waiting forever for everyone to be ready to do anything
Learning where “the line” was in my relationship with my father
Spending some solid time with my dad and my brothers
We are all getting older. We are all doing our own things so it takes something special for the four of us to be together. It was great to see my old man out of his comfort zone and to treat him like the princess he is. Can’t wait for his second stag.
I didn’t know Anthony Bourdain.
I don’t claim to.
I can’t imagine what his friends and family have been going through in the last couple of weeks.
It just served as a reminder that despite having the life that a lot of us are striving towards, ithe black dog doesn’t stop barking at the door.
Bourdain was cool. A friend recently described him as a culinary Hunter Thompson. I don’t know how either would feel about the comparison aside from the obvious, that they were gifted and that they made the decision to take their own lives.
I’m not going to dwell on the man much because it’s not my place to but he had a heart and a spirit that I greatly admired. He traveled, he ate and he wrote. I looked up to him as someone who was closely linked to the life I most wanted to live. He celebrated what it was to live fully and to embrace other cultures. He made no attempt to pretend to understand anything he didn’t and listened and engaged with others. He seemed cool, punk as fuck and very kind.
I’ll be spending the next couple of weeks working my way through everything I can read or watch about him and remembering a man who broke the mold.
A month ago my very fine friend Sam Sexton mentioned the pair of us starting work on a podcast together. Tonight we are recording our fifth episode and the feedback to it so far has been fantastic.
Sam and I met several years ago through Danny and ended up forced into performing improvised comedy together. I feel very lucky to have him in my life, as I do for everyone I’ve met through improv.
Our podcast, Sync Tank, chooses a random film and album each week, playing them simultaneously to search for any coincidental moments of synchronicity that we can pass off as being a hidden message from the filmmakers/artists. It’s very, very silly, but then, so are we.
If you’re interested then you can find us on iTunes as well as our social media on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.
Last week I got to enjoy the intoxicating scent of a pre-show toilet freak out. For any of you who have followed my ridiculous antics for a while, you’ll know this is part of my process before I take to the stage. This time it was for my return to improvised comedy. I haven’t taken part in improv for almost four years after it became a SFZ in late 2014. I’ve got to say, it was great to be back.
I first got into it after I was tricked. My friend Danny convinced me it would be good for my confidence and that there was no obligation to do anything outside of my comfort zone. I’m sure he was entirely aware that existing is outside of my comfort zone, but I persisted. On our first night at the class we were told we would be doing ten weeks of the course before a showcase in Southend. I stared at Danny, hard. He smirked.
I have met some of the most incredible friends through improv. It takes a certain kind of person to wish that kind of panic-inducing fresh hell upon themselves and, as it turns out, they’re the kind of people I want to be around. There’s a wonderful supportive network of individuals waiting.
I’ve come a long way from that first show but it hasn’t changed the absolute terror that grips me in the half an hour before I am due onstage. I’ve been told that I appeared to be drinking desperately at the side of the stage, not just before, but during the show. I think I managed to fathom my way through it all. I made jokes about topics I would not usually touch with a bargepole, the whole time supported by Lee, John and four new improv friends.
It might make me more uncomfortable than when a friend’s mum hits on me but it is a great form of discomfort.
I’ll be shaking my little tush again this Saturday but Laughter Academy showcases are on from Wednesday to Sunday this week.
Last night I was lucky enough to see Young Frankenstein at the Garrick Theatre and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
I grew up on a steady diet of Mel Brooks films so was naturally drawn to the news that it was on in the west end. I have only just discovered that it has been around and on Broadway for more than a decade. We only received it in the UK in October, so I don’t feel quite as guilty.
It managed to perfectly balance everything about the 1974 film that I knew and loved with a host of new songs and gags thrown in. I came to Young Frankenstein via my grandparents, who told me that it was one of the best films of all time. They were not wrong. They were never wrong.
I think my favourite moment, even knowing exactly what to expect and how every beat of it would go, was Puttin’ On The Ritz. It’s a slice of brilliance that only Mel Brooks could ever pull off. It’s daft but so clever. It’s wise and beautifully orchestrated but ridiculous.
If you get the opportunity then I definitely recommend seeing it while you can. It’s the best thing I’ve seen since Springtime for Hitler.
For the last six years I have dedicated myself, with mixed levels, to this blog. It’s been something of a journey I suppose. In the way that time has to be. More than anything, I started it to make sure I was flexing my writing muscles and making sure I get the key details down.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank anyone who has ever taken the time to read anything I have posted. It means an awful lot to me. I’m glad I’m doing this in an age when an audience is so readily available to me.
You’re awesome and I’m glad you’re there.
Paul Schiernecker
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Paul Schiernecker 