So I decided it was time to do a playlist of songs rather than scores because some people can't cope with music that doesn't have people speaking in a rhythmic and melodic fashion all over it. As it turns out I had more fun compiling this list than any other, and at one point I actually put on some fluorescent socks (odd, obv), leg warmers and a gilet and body-popped myself around the house.
The 1980s were not only an amazing decade for films but they were far and away the best decade for film songs. I struggle to think of anything from '90s or '00s movies that's as good as anything on this playlist, but maybe that's because I'm an '80s kid.
Frustratingly, a few songs I wanted to include aren't on Spotify, so as a bonus track and an incentive to those of you who haven't downloaded Spotify yet (IT'S FREE), here's something to get you in the mood:
George Harrison - "Dream Away" (From Time Bandits)
For more "classic" "tunes", strap on your deelyboppers, pour a Babycham and raise a glass to Corey Haim as you...
Woo hoo! It’s The Incredible Suit’s 100th post! The entire team, which is to say me, Mrs The Incredible Suit (above) and Fidgit from Time Bandits, are in the pub celebrating, so here’s a vaguely century-related clip to keep you distracted until we sober up and remember where we left the keys to the blog.
I’d like to introduce a new addition to The Incredible Suit team today; none other than Fidget from Time Bandits. Hello, Fidget!
I’ve decided to employ Fidget on a freelance basis (i.e. I’m not paying him) after his relentless mithering during various films I’ve seen recently that have failed to hold my attention for very long. It’s at the point in a movie when my mind wanders and I start thinking about why there’s always one teaspoon left in the washing up bowl when you empty the water out that Fidget appears and starts prodding me, making me shift about in my seat, or sprinkles magic sleepy dust in my eyes, making it difficult to stay awake and keep track of what little is going on on screen.
Fidget’s contribution to The Incredible Suit is The Fidget Factor, a measurement of what percentage of a film’s running time is taken up with daydreaming, restless twitching and involuntary drooling from the corner of one’s gobhole.
To illustrate, take Monday’s London Film Festival screening of Un Prophète (trans: A Prophet. Fluent, me). Now it’s a dangerous thing to describe a film in your Festival bumf with words like “astounding”, “crime drama of the year”, “visceral intensity”, and especially the phrase “More exciting than Mesrine”, because a) that is a lot of exciting thrillery to live up to and b) Mesrine had me on a diet of fingernails for the best part of four hours.
Needless to say it was a bit rubbish. A French prison drama about a petty crook who comes under the wing of a mid-level Corsican mobster in chokey and eventually starts to take charge of his own blood-soaked destiny, A Prophet is about 45 minutes too long and severely lacking in anything approaching the “visceral intensity” or “fingernail-biting anticipation” promised by the LFF. If Jacques Mesrine had been incarcerated in this prison he’d have broken out for a café au lait and broken in again before anyone had noticed he’d gone.
Despite an excellent performance by Tahar Rahim as the French Arab criminal around whom the film revolves, I lost track of who was Corsican, who was French and who was Algerian after about an hour, and it was at this point that who should pop up but my old chum Fidget, with a colander on his head, poking me with his little sausage fingers and asking for a job.
So The Incredible Suit gives A Prophet an uninspiring five out of ten, but more importantly, what does Fidget say?
It’s at least twelve minutes since my last post about what the 23rd Bond film, Blood And Thunder (title to be confirmed*) should be like, so I thought I’d allow you another brief peek into my nogginboggle because I know how crucial this is to your wellbeing.
Someone said, at some point, in some place or other (sorry to be so painfully specific), that Q and Miss Moneypenny should return in the next film, having been absent since Die Another Day, in which John Cleese was alright but a bit grumpy as Q and Samantha Bond, as Moneypenny, took part in a colossally misjudged virtual reality sex scene with James Bond which almost single-handedly killed the franchise for the next four years, although it had plenty of help from the INVISIBLE BLOODY CAR!!
Anyway, before we start thinking about a new Q and Moneypenny, can we please get rid of Judi “Dame Judi Dench” Dench as M, preferably in a pre-title sequence in which she’s bumped off by the bad guy (Vincent Cassel, with any luck), thereby setting Bond off on revenge and immediately putting him at odds with the new M. Speaking of which…
The new M should be a man. An old bugger who Bond immediately dislikes but grows to respect and admire over the course of the film, so that by the time the credits roll you believe he’d actually die for him. A bit like how you lot feel about The Incredible Suit. That’s the M of the books, and that’s what Daniel Craig’s Bond needs.
M needs to be played by a recognisable actor who looks like a scary headmaster, and should be sufficiently old and weatherbeaten, but not so ancient that he might cark it before the 24th film. The Incredible Suit’s shortlist is (click the pic to embigulise):
Having carefully studied their mugs, I think I’d have to plump for Bernard Hill, because he has the face of a salty old sea dog who hates everybody, or David Warner, who looks like he might fire lightning from his fingertips if a minion ever dared to question his orders. Which is in fact what he did in Time Bandits, so at least he’s got that on his CV.
Next week I’ll bleat like an attention-seeking lamb about who should play Q and Miss Moneypenny, and I’ll start my campaign to get her renamed Miss Funnyfanny, like in the woefully unhilarious ‘Basildon Bond’ sketches from The Russ Abbot Show. If you genuinely find this funny I will personally pay for your psychiatric treatment:
