Doin’ Up The Buttons

A few weeks ago, I approached an old mate Garry John Kane about producing a short profile of his band, the Scottish mod outfit Button Up.

Kaneo invited me along to film the band rehearsing at Berkley 2 Studios in Glasgow on Saturday 13 April, and then later at a live gig in Studio Bar in Glasgow on Friday 19 April.

The whole film was shot and edited on the Canon 5D Mk III with the Canon 50mm f/1.4 lens, the Canon 24-105mm lens and edited with Adobe Premiere Pro CS6.

All material copyright © The Copydesk 2013.

All songs copyright © Button Up Records 2010-2013.

The Superman lives, and he’s 75

Superman

All Star Superman by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely

In April 1938, writer Jerry Siegel and artist Joe Shuster entered the annals of history when they realised the debut appearance of their most famous fictional creation when he appeared on the cover of Action Comics #1.

75 years later, Superman has become one of the most enduring and instantly-recognisable icons of the 20th and 21st centuries; stop anyone on any street corner – young or old – in any town or city in the western hemisphere and show them his distinctive “s” chest symbol, and you will be met with assured acknowledgement.

Oddly, Superman originally started life as a villain in the science-fiction short story Reign of the Superman (1933) and was eventually sold to DC Comics by Shuster and Siegel in 1938 for a reported $130, having been rejected by almost every publisher in the USA.

Along with his alter-ego, the mild-manner reporter for the Daily Planet newspaper, Clark Kent, Superman was destined to become the first in a series of new comic book characters, and was quickly serialised no fewer than three different comics. A radio serial was commissioned shortly afterwards, and before the end of 1941, a series of animated cartoons appeared from Paramount Pictures – then became a 1950s television series starring George Reeves.

The Siegel and Shuster partnership benefited immensely from the work they provided DC Comics by the standards of their time. However, the two young men failed to secure any lasting rights to their creation, and in 1945 – while they were both in the military – DC created the Superboy series, and were the subject of litigation by the two Superman creators for $100,000. The lawsuit caused their relationship with DC to sour, and in 1948 the publisher removed the duo’s names from the credits on the title pages of all subsequent Superman comics.

Despite the setback for his originators, Superman soon emerged as an inspiration for the entire world. The fictional characters that preceeded him, such as Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan, had been created in response to mankind’s natural enemies; the beasts in the jungle and nature – but in the aftermath of World War II, people of the western world required a new hero who could save them from themselves.

Superman quickly became the inspirational template for every subsequent fictional superhero character, and was partly responsible for raising the spirits of the American people during a time of harsh economic decline.

During the late 1960s, the popularity of Batman on television prompted DC Comics to develop the Man of Steel for the big screen, and in 1978, Superman: The Movie was released, directed by Richard Donner and starring Christopher Reeve in the title role.

Prior to the movie’s premiere, publicity for the big-screen debut prompted comic book artist Neal Adams and a number of other professional comics creators to establish a campaign aimed at earning Shuster and Siegel the recognition they deserved for creating the world’s greatest superhero.

The campaigners also sought to obtain financial recompense for the two men, as a token of appreciation for the millions they had earned DC Comics over the years. DC, under pressure from its new owners, Warner Communications, eventually reneged and the Siegel/Shuster creator-credit was restored to the Superman comics permanently, with both men granted an additional yearly fee of $20,000.

The Superman movie became one of the highest grossing motion pictures of all time, producing three sequels and generating millions from sales of spin-off merchandise. However, by the time it had finished its rounds at the cinema, Shuster was living in an upstate New York nursing home suffering from blindness and eventually died of heart failure in 1992.

Following a steady decline in popularity for almost a decade afterwards, the Superman comics were subjected to a revamp by writer/artist John Byrne in the 1980s and recovered to reach the post-war sales levels once more, at which point DC decided to officially kill the character off. The ensuing media hype surrounding “The Death Of Superman” in 1992 saw sales of the comics leap to 4million per month, providing DC with enough financial incentive to revamp the character on a regular basis. The repetitive storylines had a remarkable impact on sales and the character was miraculously re-born in numerous guises over a lengthy period.

DC even decided it was time Superman got hitched, and married him off to his long-time sweetheart and fellow-reporter Lois Lane. He was given a new look – with long, curly hair – and his costume was redesigned in favour of an electric-blue, futuristic jump suit.

The character became irreversibly diluted, despite the impressive sales figures – which were slipping with each new publicity stunt – and DC decided it was time to take the character in a completely new direction.

The first of the major changes arrived when cult movie writer/director Kevin Smith was commissioned by Warner Brothers to pen a screenplay for the re-make of the original Superman movie, to be guided by Batman director Tim Burton. Smith’s script, while true to the essence of the comics, bizarrely failed to visualise Superman flying, one of the mainstays of the character’s fictional abilities. Nicholas Cage was cast to play the lead, and the movie was pencilled for released during the celebrations for Superman’s 60th anniversary. Industry insiders branded the project a potential failure, and Warner Bros officially shelved it, indicating that audience would probably never see another big-screen incarnation of the character for a generation.

On the comic pages, Superman eventually turned full circle, largely due to the success of writer Mark Waid and artist Alex Ross’ interpretation of the character in their groundbreaking Kingdom Come series. The 1996 book imagined a futuristic Superman persuaded to emerge from self-imposted exile by his contemporaries in a bid to save the world from criminal superheroes who had taken over the planet in his absence. It was a multi-layered story that played to the character’s core strengths of noble heroics and sacrifice.

The story was a timely warning to the comics industry, which had recently become self-obsessed with creating violent, ‘real-life’ characters.

Ross was also responsible for returning Superman to his original 1938 costume – a move which boosted sales with such effect, that DC decided to retain the look and develop the character in a new retro-direction.

In Scotland, native comics writer Mark Millar scripted Superman: Red Son – concerning the arrival of Kal El on Earth as a child, when his rocket ship lands on a collective farm in the Soviet Union and not a farm in Kansas – and ponders a world where Superman is raised by the communist state.

Glasgow writer Grant Morrison also revitalised sales of Superman comics by permanently returning the character to The Justice League of America and later in his groundbreaking, multi-award-winning All-Star Superman series with Rutherglen artist Frank Quitely he offered a modern retrospective of Superman’s finest moments.

In 2006, the character took centre-stage once again in Bryan Singer’s eagerly-anticipated Superman Returns feature film which boasted the unknown Brandon Routh in the lead role alongside Kevin Spacey as his arch-enemy Lex Luthor, but the $400m epic failed miserably to reignite interest in the Man of Steel and all but bombed at the box office.

Now, as the entire world plummets deeper into economic decline under the spectre of global terrorism, we are consumed more than ever before with fear and anxiety about our own mortality – and we find ourselves gazing skyward once more for a hero to guide us into an uncertain future.

As if to signal our collective need for a return to simpler times, Superman is set to appear once again on the big screen in the forthcoming movie Man of Steel directed by Zack Snyder and produced by the Dark Knight Trilogy helmer Christopher Nolan. The recent trailer, released on the eve of Superman’s 75th birthday, shows definite promise – with a supporting cast which includes Russell Crowe, Kevin Costner, Larry Fishburne and Diane Lane.

Despite the ups and downs of an erratic comic book market, a fickle movie audience, failing economies and growing fears about global safety, Superman is a hero for all time – and whatever you think of him, no matter how many transformations the character undergoes over the years, he will be here long after all of us are gone.

For me, he is still the greatest, the most powerful – and the most original fictional character ever created.

Shadow – BBC Short Film

About a year ago, I pitched in to write a short film for a BBC internal talent drive scheme with a producer colleague Gerald Strother.

This is the resulting film.

It was made on a budget of just £1000 with a specific requirement that it be no longer than 60 seconds in length.

I harked back to a short comic book story I had written for Caliber Comics in the 1990s, which was illustrated by the amazing Mike Perkins, and Gerald helped me work out a way of making the story work in a short timeframe.

Marcus Harben was brought on board as director, David Braysher was drafted in to do some storyboards and acoustic musician/singer/songwriter Beerjacket was employed to score some original, haunting music.

The film was shot on-location in January 2011 by Keith Ingram and stars Angela Darcy, Clare Waugh and Chris Young – in addition to some fabulous child actors, Amy Gray, Keir Morris and Amy Gallagher.

Lots of other people made it possible, and they’re all named in the credits.

Hopefully, this will be the start of many such short (and long) films from me, Gerald, Marcus and others.

Enjoy.

Beyond the final frontier – 30th Anniversary of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey

Originally published in The Herald newspaper on 3 March 1998
By Martin Conaghan

Thirty years ago this week Stanley Kubrick’s sci-fi epic 2001: A Space Odyssey was premiered in Washington DC. One week later it received its UK premier at the Casino Theatre in London.

It would be another nine years before George Lucas would start re-writing the book with the first of his Star Wars Trilogy, and a further 23 before cinema audiences would be dumbfounded by the special -effects extravaganza in Terminator 2: Judgement Day.

Yet, 2001 remains one of the most, if not the most, influential and visually stunning movies of all time, enduring beyond an era of technological advancement in cinematic effects, which only recently witnessed the realistic sinking of history’s most famous ship in Titanic.

2001 started life as a short story by British science-fiction author Arthur C Clarke, The Sentinel, published in 1951.

Clarke was approached in 1963 by maverick director Stanley Kubrick to collaborate on the screenplay for a movie version, which required a budget of $ 10m and from script to first screening would take 92 weeks to produce.

Kubrick’s previous movie, Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb, released in 1964, was his seventh feature. Its commercial success allowed Kubrick the freedom to experiment with cinematic storytelling techniques, and to expensively adapt technology for the purposes of his latest movie. 2001 was to exceed the boundaries of cinematic special effects.

With the help of expert Douglas Trumbull, it portrayed an awe-inspiring account of what it would be like to travel in space. (The scenes of the moon excavation are remarkably similar to the footage taken by the Apollo landing, which didn’t occur until over a year later).

Kubrick successfully simulated zero-gravity weightlessness and filmed a fascinating scene where an actor jogs around the rotating centrifuge of a spacecraft which, to this day, remains largely a technical mystery.

To attempt an adequate description of the plot, and the numinous mysteries behind obscure symbolic references could take months. However, the basic story is straightforward enough in itself.

In the year 2001, the discovery of a pre -historic monolith buried under the surface of the moon prompts scientists to launch a deep-space mission to the planet Jupiter, believing the monolith to have transmitted a signal there and suspecting it to be of alien origin.

The entire story is prologued by an extensive “dawn of man” sequence, where primitive apes of 3,000,000 years ago discover a smaller version of the monolith on Earth and learn – via its transmissions – to manipulate tools and weapons. The basic interpretation suggests the story is a metaphor: from ape to scientist, mankind has striven to reach the unattainable. The exploration of the religious and spiritual themes behind the story is a little more complicated.

According to the critics at the time, the technological achievements alone were insufficient reason for such an expensive movie to be deemed entertaining. Many slammed it as dull and pointless, with an ending that left audiences perplexed.

Rock Hudson is reputed to have stormed out of the premiere shouting: “Will someone tell me what the Hell this is about?”

Clarke himself made a remark that horrified MGM top brass soon after the film was released, suggesting: “If you understand 2001 on the first viewing, we will have failed.”

He didn’t mean people wouldn’t enjoy the movie the first time; he was referring to the complexity of the subject and the idea the movie postulated a rough theory on the workings of the universe (which was intended for contemplation, not entertainment) – therefore it could not possibly be totally understood in one sitting, and perhaps never fully at all.

The critics weren’t wrong: it is exceptionally slow.

To the average movie -goer, it would simply be regarded as boring. Much of the narrative is clinical and monotonous. In fact, the only dialogue containing real emotion or feeling comes from the computer HAL, singing a haunting rendition of Daisy as its memory chips are removed one by one, effectively switching it off.

There are no romantic interludes.

No hero saves the day.

The plot contains very little suspense or mystery, and the cast – with two very small exceptions (HAL and a brief appearance by Kubrick’s daughter Vivian) – is comprised entirely of adults. As movies go, it is completely unconventional in every sense. Even for a science-fiction movie it breaks with tradition, yet it remains a fantastic commercial success 30 years later.

Cinemas all over the world continue regular screenings and the Internet is awash with commentary. The lasting appeal of 2001 can be largely attributed to its visuals and the musical score.

Kubrick commissioned an original score from composer Alex North and improvised during editing with the use of classical pieces.

The improvised music made such an impact on the creative process he decided to dump the score in favour of the classical recordings.

Kubrick was criticised at the time for being cheap, but maintained it had nothing to do with money.

He was probably right to keep the classical recordings, since few people who have seen the film could argue that when they hear the first five notes of Richard Strauss’ Thus Spake Zarathustra they do not think of the opening scenes of 2001. Any time I hear The Blue Danube, I visualise Kubrick’s perfectly choreographed spaceship waltz.

Such inspired imagery has influenced directors for over a quarter of a century. In many respects, every director today owes part of their achievements to Stanley Kubrick and 2001.

For example, when Leonardo DiCaprio enters the main stairwell before his dinner engagement in Titanic the band are playing The Blue Danube, with the rotating camera view of the glass dome mimicking the wheel-shaped station orbiting Earth in 2001.

Few films in the past 30 years have inspired beyond the limits of the story or provoked debate in the way 2001 has – which was Kubrick and Clarke’s initial intention: to be inspirational first, and entertaining second. Interpretation of the meaning behind the story is largely a personal thing, and even Kubrick himself has said he would never argue with anyone’s understanding of the story, preferring to allow the film to speak for itself.

And it does speak for itself – in silent tones and powerful imagery that sparks the imagination beyond mankind’s limited understanding of the universe.

I pity anyone who has never experienced the full glory of a cinema screening.

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