You Have Been Watching...We Need to Talk About Kevin

In recent discussions about the best Scottish filmmaker at work currently I made the claim that Peter Mullen was the most interesting around. It's a terrible admission, but I had completely forgotten about Lynne Ramsay, although perhaps understandable when you consider she hadn't troubled our cinema screens since 2002's adaptation of Alan Warner's novel Morvern Callar. With the release of We Need to Talk About Kevin, she's back, and how.

Ramsay is a filmmaker primarily concerned with the visual, which I hope isn't as daft as it sounds. If you think of the framing and muted pallete of her debut feature Ratcatcher or the move from the neon and dark of Oban to the searing light and shimmer of Ibiza in Morvern Callar, the way a film looks and feels is as important to her as what is being said, but with We Need to Talk About Kevin she raises her game even higher.  This is a visual feast which matches the colours and landscapes to the unfolding story. Ramsay trusts her audience enough to make it obvious from the beginning that something terrible has happened as she is more interested in the journey rather than the chilling destination. Her use of colour reminds me of the films of Peter Greenaway, except here it is not just an art house pretension but vital to a terrible story. Perhaps a more apt comparison is with the work of Powell and Pressburger, whose films were elaborately depicted, but never to the detriment of the tale told. Certainly the use of red as a key colour in We Need to Talk About Kevin flags up that there will be blood in the most artistic manner since Nicolas Roeg's Don't Look Now, adding atmosphere and building audience anticipation as the film moves towards its inevitable climax.

It's interesting to consider that Ramsay's last two films are literary adaptations as she keeps the dialogue to a minimum in both and lets the camera and the performers tell the story. In We Need to Talk About Kevin there are lots of lingering shots and close ups, perhaps none better then when the camera moves in to focus on Kevin's pupils that have an archery target reflected in them. There are also some lovely call backs to previous Ramsay movies, with a scene in a dream-like supermarket, and a man dancing to his own music at the Christmas party, both reflecting similar scenes in Morvern Callar. Here's the trailer:



Aside from Ramsay, this is Tilda Swinton's film, which is not to take anything away from a great supporting cast. I honestly cannot think of an unconvincing Swinton performance, going back to her early days as muse to Derek Jarman or in John Byrne's TV series from 1990, Your Cheatin' Heart (see Your Cheatin' Heart), so I wasn't surprised at how good she is here, but often, with the exception of 1992's Orlando, she is used as support rather than in central roles, perhaps too unconventional to be thought of as lead material. Ramsay would never hold with such prejudice and Swinton, as troubled matriarch Eva, is in almost every frame of We Need to Talk About Kevin managing to convey the pain, distrust, horror, confusion and weariness required if we are to believe how the central relationship in the film unfolds. Here's a clip of Lynne Ramsay and Ezra Miller singing Swinton's praises:

As Eva's husband Franklin, John C. Reilly is as reliable as always and special mention should be made of the two 'Kevins', Jasper Newell and Ezra Miller, who both manage to exude hatred, menace and a chilling moral ambiguity. Where Ramsay is expressive when it comes to the process of film making, she keeps the performances from her actors subtle and nuanced. A film which could have been over the top and sensational is all the more effecting for using knowing glances and passive aggressive exchanges between mother and son. 

I've seen two films this week by two of Scotland's best filmmakers, the other being David Mackenzie's Perfect Sense. There will be a review of that in the coming week, but suffice to say that when placed alongside We Need to Talk About Kevin and last year's NEDS, you have three of the best films by Scottish directors in the last twenty years. All three do far more than entertain, they stay with you long after you leave the cinema and ask us to consider love, life, family, morality and existence in a manner that is exhilarating and disturbing. I can't wait to see what Peter Mullan and David Mackenzie do next, but that applies especially to Lynne Ramsay. I just hope it's not going to be another 9 years before we find out.

Pack Mentality: The 5th Scots Whay Hae Podcast...

The fifth Scots Whay Hae! podcast is now available for you to download and listen to. It is an hour of interview with novelist, playwright, and performer Alan Bissett who talks about his novels Boyracers, The Incredible Adam Spark, Death of a Ladies Man and, particularly, his latest novel Pack Men (see Only A Game: A Review of Alan Bissett's Pack Men) before moving on to a fascinating discussion about contemporary Scottish writing.

Its rare to get one of Scotland's best novelists talking unedited or interrupted for an hour, and this is one of the things we aim to do with these podcasts, to let people talk about their work and passions for as long as they like, something it is increasingly difficult to get elsewhere. During the conversation with Alan there is a lot of information packed into the hour and I hope you find it as fascinating and enjoyable to listen to as we did recording it.

You can download the podcast by going to Scots Whay Hae! at iTunes or Scots Whay Hae! by RSS . The sixth podcast will be the long awaited 'Top Scottish Novels of all Time' episode, which sees Ali, Chris and friend of the pod Ronnie Young fighting their corner to get their selections onto the final list. As it's already been recorded I can promise it will be with you in the next fortnight. Until then I hope you enjoy number 5.

If you've never read any Alan Bissett then I hope the podcast will persuade you to do so. As an added incentive here is a review of his debut novel Boyracers which first appeared in the July 2010 edition of Indelible Ink over at Dear Scotland:

                           

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Alan Bissett’s ‘Boyracers’
by Alistair Braidwood

There are many ways to start a novel, but surely one of the most arresting of recent times can be found in Alan Bissett’s ‘Boyracers’, which opens:

‘like rebel angels, bright, restless, sensually attuned to the flux and flow of mortal Falkirk, Belinda our chariot, our spirit guide, the wind rushing up and past her face thrust against it like some wide-o Helen of Troy.’

Straight in. Nae messin. It puts me in mind of an early Springsteen lyric, if The Boss had been brought up near Callender Park, Falkirk rather than Asbury Park, NJ. The novel doesn’t relent in the pace set by this opening gambit, at least not until near the end when reality starts to invade the Boyracers lives.

I mentioned last month that there are similarities between Gordon Legge’s ‘The Shoe’, and Bissett’s debut. Both deal with the lives of a close group of friends as they make the transition from school to whatever comes next. Re-reading ‘Boyracers’ made me realise that the main difference between the two novels is to do with pace, both of life and in terms of writing. There may only be 12 years between the two novels, but they seem further removed from each other than that.

The reason for this can be found with the respective groups. Until I compared the two I had forgotten just what a difference a couple of years can make in your teens. 15-16 year olds’ lives tend to be very different from those of 17-18 year olds. In Legge’s book there is a sense of what has been left behind, and the characters are being pulled towards adulthood and all that threatens to entail. Their hopes and dreams are already being dashed. ‘Boyracers’ pull is from the other end of the teenage spectrum. For them the stronger pull is from school, as Alvin, Brian, Frannie and Dolby find themselves desperately holding on to the lives that they need to leave behind. This is classic teen angst material, as poignant as ‘The Last Picture Show’, ‘American Graffiti’ or any John Hughes’ movie. The group are being threatened with disbandment but don’t want to face this fact, so live their last days together at breakneck speed to avoid impending reality.

There is no plot as such, just time spent with the boys as they drive the streets of Falkirk and the surrounding area and dream of escape (some with more intensity than others), football, favourite movies and music, and girls. There is a natural energy that occurs when they are together, with Frannie bursting into song or Dolby criticising the group’s respective cultural tastes, although they escape relatively easily when compared to other characters that they encounter. That is how people are judged, and this jury is a harsh one. Watch the wrong film, listen to the wrong tunes, and your dead to them.

Music and popular culture are hugely important to the dynamic of this group, placing it not only alongside ‘The Shoe’, but also ‘Morvern Callar’, ‘Trainspotting’ and John Niven’s ‘Kill Your Friends’ in the novels featured here in the past few months whose characters, and authors, show similar obsessive tendencies. The excitement that is felt, for instance, at the prospect of a new U2 album is brilliantly captured and reminds the weary and cynical just how important music is to a teenage fan.

The scene where they argue over the respective meanings of Deacon Blue’s ‘Dignity’ and ‘Wages Day’ is typical of the varying levels of banter. When Alvin claims that ‘Progress is a capitalist myth.’ Brian retorts ‘You’re a capitalist myth, ya c**t!’ and the cracks that are beginning to show, and which will eventually lead them in different directions, are made clear. Even their arguments, although they are about so much more, take place in a pop-cultural context. What gives this scene a cinematic quality is the fact that ‘Wages Day’ is playing on the car stereo as the argument progresses. Is it an attack on capitalism or a simple celebration of payday? You can decide for yourself:



‘Boyracers’ is not really a typical Scottish novel. It owes a lot to American writers such as S.E. Hinton or even Kerouac. Kerouac crossed with Kelman perhaps.  But most of all I think it owes a debt to American cinema, both in terms of the character’s tastes and the overall feel. Frannie rates women in terms of ‘Star Wars’ characters (a spectrum which ranges from Princess Leia to Jabba the Hutt), Dolby is stunned when he meets a girl who has never read an X-Men comic, and Alvin’s reading material is ‘The Great Gatsby’. There are plenty of more localised references, but American cultural rules rule, and I feel that the spirit of the novel also feels American, in the best possible sense. It seems to me that Bissett is an optimist, and that is incredibly rare amongst Scottish writers. If you feel that’s harsh then please name me another five. I can think of two. Yes, there is the storyline about Alvin’s dysfunctional family, but the reader is always sure that he is heading for better things. The hope, for once, isn’t false.

Scottish books for teenagers are, as far as I can tell, few and far between. Scottish literature in Scottish schools is still under represented, and after you’ve done ‘Sunset Song’, a bit of Burns, Liz Lochhead and/or Edwin Morgan and, if you are lucky, something a bit more modern, you’re considered to have done well. If anyone wants a suggestion as to a book for older school kids, Scottish or otherwise, then I propose Alan Bissett’s ‘Boyracers’ as he manages to avoid the cynicism of his contemporaries, while never being less than honest and entertaining. The book’s central characters are living lives that are recognisable to most young people; and to those of you who remember what that time was like, and those who have forgotten, this is a book to bring a knowing smile to your face, and an ache for your own salad days.

Alistair

Scots Whay Hae's Greatest Scottish Album...Ever!

As you'll all know STV are currently trying to put together 'Scotland's Greatest Album'TM by committee and public votes. Well Chris Ward, who you have heard on the Scots Whay Hae! podcast asked me if I could put together my own album for his own podcast Seen Your Video where we could share and compare. (It's actually more of a mix-tape as Chris rightly points out. The 'Greatest Scottish Album' is Hats by The Blue Nile. I could have saved them all that bother.)

You can hear the resulting chat and justifications by heading over there now, but I thought it would be quite nice, for me if no one else, to have all my songs available in one handy place for easy comparison. So here they are in video form (sending everyone a tape was just going to be too much hassle). It comprises of three songs from the 1970s, three from the 80s, then 90s and finally the 00s. I hope you approve of at least some of them:

The Sensational Alex Harvey Band: Next

The Sweet: Ballroom Blitz

The Skids: Into the Valley

The Blue Nile: The Downtown Lights

The Cocteau Twins: Pearly Dewdrops Drop

The Jesus and Mary Chain: Just Like Honey

Teenage Fanclub: Sparky's Dream

Belle and Sebastian: The Boy with the Arab Strap

Arab Strap: The First Big Weekend

Primal Scream: Accelerator

Ballboy: I Hate Scotland

Mylo: In Your Arms


These are my selections, now tell me yours (if you like).

You Have Been Watching...Burke & Hare

If you were to make a list of directors that can successfully marry comedy and horror then Jon Landis would have to be on there somewhere near the top. This is the man whose films include Schlock, An American Werewolf in London, The Twilight Zone and the underrated Innocent Blood as well as overseeing Thriller (not exactly comedy, but certainly amusing). So when I heard that he was to direct the latest take on the Burke & Hare story then my hopes were high.

Then the cast was announced and included Andy Serkis, Tom Wilkinson, Tim Curry and, reunited at last, Simon Pegg and Jessica Hynes. There were also to be cameos from Bill Bailey, Christopher Lee and Ronnie Corbert as well as many of British comedies best known faces including Stephen Merchant, Paul Whitehouse, Reece Sheersmith and Michael Smiley (another Spaced alumni). The only piece of casting I was worried about was Isla Fisher as the romantic interest, but I can admit that may be due to my Aussie soap blinkers (it took me ages to admit that Guy Pearce is a top talent).

The story itself is one which has become well known. Irish immigrants William Burke and William Hare are supposed to have made a living by selling corpses to renowned Edinburgh physician Dr Robert Knox for use in his anatomy lectures. The popular story is that, running out of natural deaths, they took matters into their own hands and started murdering victims, a situation about which the good doctor asked no questions. Even though life expectancy in the Old Town of Edinburgh in the 1820s was not great, such a spate of deaths drew notice and they were soon dubbed The West Port murders. If you don't know the story I won't spoil it here, but the tale of the two is mentioned in Robert Louis Stevenson's story 'The Bodysnatcher' and the characters have appeared in many films and TV shows including Colin Baker era Doctor Who, the TV version of the Twilight Zone and the 1970's exploitation flick Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde. Here is the trailer to Jon Landis' version:

The 2010 film, despite the promise of people and plot, is a disappointment. The humour is dire and the scares, with a couple of exceptions, are just not scary. When that lets you down in a horror/comedy then the rest would have to be brilliant to make up. However the pluses are few and infrequent. Tom Wilkinson is as good as ever as the morally dubious Dr Knox, and Tim Curry is wasted as his rival Professor Alexander Monro. It is when the plot focuses on the battle between these two surgeons, and the chance to receive the King's patronage, that the film is at its best, but those scenes are too few and not enough to save the film. Once you've enjoyed the initial appearance of Ronnie Corbett as the captain of the Edinburgh militia then there's not much further fun to be had.

The main problem the film has is with the two leading men. Serkis is mean enough as to be believable as someone who could turn his hand to murder, but you have no sympathy for him, whereas Pegg, who often looks as if he doesn't want to be there, is feckless and easily manipulated. The claim that he acts 'for love' is ludicrous and has the effect of making him appear simple. When these two are put forward as the heroes of the piece then the reaction to their fate is 'meh'. You just don't care. When David Kessler kills in An American Werewolf in London after being bitten by a wolf it is forgiveable because he fights against his vulpine nature, and he is not to blame (unless you are very hard line in your attitude to free will). In Burke & Hare the behaviour of the two men is unforgivable. That is the fundamental problem with the film, there is little humour to be found in the subject matter

There have been two other notable films which deal with the Burke and Hare story, both of which are superior to this one. The first to mention is the 1973 film The Horrors of Burke and Hare, which is a straight down the line, Hammer style, horror movie and which doesn't stint on the claret. But if you only watch one film about murders and grave robbing in 1820's Edinburgh, make it 1945's The Body Snatcher which starts Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff. Lugosi in particular is outstanding in his best role since playing the Count. Its a great piece of cinema, better than any screen version of the more famous Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde: Here's the trailer:

There is not enough horror made in Scotland when you consider the Gothic tradition that runs from Walter Scott and James Hogg through Stevenson and George MacDonald to James Robertson and Louise Welsh in the present day. Only Stevenson has been well served by cinema. The standout example of a Scottish horror is The Wicker Man (see You Have Been Watching...The Wicker Man), but its success only goes to highlight the dearth elsewhere. I worry that horror is seen as too genre, and therefore not as 'worthy' by those who fund such things. There are always rumours about big screen adaptations of Hogg's The Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner and Louise Welsh's The Cutting Room, both of which I would be first in the queue to see. Until then I would suggest getting a copy of Neil Marshall's Dog Soldiers and maybe leave Burke & Hare alone, unless you are a Pegg, Landis or Corbett completest.

Elegantly Wasted: A Review of Allan Wilson's Wasted in Love...

In 1974 rock journo Jon Landau returned from a gig and proclaimed 'I have seen the future of rock n'roll and its name is Bruce Springsteen'. Well I've been reading Allan Wilson's debut collection of short stories, Wasted in Love, and its really very good indeed. But don't take my word for it, none other than legendary Scots' poet Tom Leonard has said 'He reads like the real thing...terrific debut anthology', and you don't argue with Mr Leonard.

I first became aware of the work of Wilson when his short story 'The End' was included in last year's anthology The Year of Open Doors, and, considering he was sharing pages with some of Scotland's best writers, the fact his was one of the highlights spoke well for what was to come. Publishers Cargo obviously thought so too as they signed him up sharpish, the result of which is Wasted in Love. I interviewed Allan on the last  Scots Whay Hae! podcast and what is clear is that this is someone who lives to write, who would do so (and indeed did so) even if no one was reading his work. Having spoken to people who had read these stories before publication, and whose opinions I respect, I was sure that this was a collection that wouldn't disappoint. There was, to paraphrase Paul McStay, a buzz about the place.

Don't think for a minute this is hype without substance. Wasted in Love is all about the writing. There are glimpses into lives and relationships which are dissected with a surgeon's precision. Wilson understands people; their hopes, dreams, insecurities and fears. He knows what makes people tick, and what makes them fall apart and touches upon the good, bad and ugly sides to human nature confronting all three with great honesty. He doesn't shy away from looking at racism, betrayal, lust, deception and violence but this is not simple gritty, urban realism. There is often a tenderness to be found in difficult circumstances, the belief that love, either given or received, holds the possibility for salvation. Unfortunately, for some, that love is wasted.

He also has an ear for how people talk to each other, often hiding more than they reveal. His scenarios detail universal concerns, but his pinpoint use of Glaswegian phraseology places them not only in a place, but also in the present day. There are references to Alasdair Gray and Belle and Sebastian, snatches of song lyrics from Arab Strap and The Smiths, late night visits to burger vans and kebab shops, and meetings in pubs and clubs which change people's lives, at least for a while. What is remarkable is that Wilson manages to make readers care about his protagonists in only a few pages. This is because these are people who find themselves in circumstances that we all, to a greater or lesser degree, can recognise and empathise, if not always sympathise, with.

At the core of Wasted in Love and the characters who inhabit its pages is the knowledge that individuals are looking for happiness with no real understanding of what that might entail or how to achieve it. This goes some way to explaining, if not excusing, the moral ambiguity and straightforward bad behaviour that Wilson's men, and they are almost always men, display. As Springsteen once sang 'Everybody's got a hungry heart', something Allan Wilson understands all too well.

Wilson Filip: The Fourth Scots Whay Hae! Podcast...

In the fourth Scots Whay Hae! podcast Ali interviews author Allan Wilson about the publication of his début collection of short stories Wasted In Love and along the way they talk Alexander Trocchi, James Kelman, Charles Bukowski, Arab Strap, the importance of being carefully taught and the current Scots' literary landscape. Hear Ali’s brain melt as he realises that he is too old to function properly after only four hours sleep, try and work out who says the phrase ‘I think’ the most, continue the sweepstake fun as to how often Ali says 'absolutely, and, if you’re name is Alan Bissett, blush as you are praised to the heavens.

Recorded on Sunday morning (the last time that'll be happening) this is a fascinating insight into the life of one of Scotland's most promising young writers. You'll be able to read a full review of  'Wasted In Love' on these pages in the next couple of days, but until that happens we hope you enjoy around 50 mins of quality blether.

You can listen and subscribe at Scots Whay Hae! at itunes or subscribe by RSS by going to Scots Whay Hae! Pod Feed. 

Congratulations to Iain Macdonald who wins a copy of Ron Butlin's Night Visits for spotting that Francis in The Wasp Factory was brought up as a boy, and not a girl as was mistakenly claimed in the last podcast. Deliberate mistake? You decide.

Some people will note that some of the things we talk about have already come to pass, for instance stuff that may be happening on the day of recording. We hope this will not be too much of a pain, but we decided to record our chats as live, and these are the results. But all feedback will be gratefully received.

William, You Were Really Something: A review of Tom Doyle's The Glamour Chase...

There are certain people whose influence, and the interest in their lives, far outweigh the success that they achieve. Call it charisma or cultish appeal, it is not simply about what they do, but also how they do it. The life in itself becomes something to be deconstructed and discussed, often over and above the work they produce. Examples include Alexander Trocchi, Jack Kerouac, James Dean, Lord Byron and Billie Holliday. Billy Mackenzie was such a person; a man who had the looks of Dean and Byron, wrote with the obscure poetry of Kerouac, and whose voice was often compared to Lady Day, although so singular was this voice that you could never doubt that it was his and his alone.

Before I read Tom Doyle's biography of Mackenzie, The Glamour Chase: The Maverick Life of Billy Mackenzie, I knew the basics. I knew that Billy had a voice that could move me to tears, that The Associates, the band he shared with Alan Rankine, had produced some of the best music of the early eighties and, with their 1982 album Sulk, had made one of my favourite all time records. I knew that his subsequent music career was typified with more disappointment than success, but that when he got it right, as he did on collaborations with Yello and Barry Adamson, then that voice stood out in the increasingly bland pop landscape of the late 80s and early 90s. 

Doyle's book fills in the gaps and goes some way to explaining both the appeal and career of Billy Mackenzie. What emerges is a picture of a man who just wasn't made for those times. The early days in Dundee, while not always idyllic, turn out to be the happiest of Billy Mackenzie's short life. The young man played, ran and sang with unbridled pleasure. As he gets older life continues to move at a blur which hints that this is a life which would burn out rather than fade away. There are marriages of convenience, money spent before it was earned, and friendships made and forgotten with what some would consider indecent haste. It is little wonder that Billy's companions of choice where whippets, which he succsesfully bred. They must of been the only ones who had a chance of keeping up.

The Glamour Chase is a book which, like the singer's voice, is suffused with melancholy and regret. As fellow torch singer Marc Almond remarks 'To sing like that, you have to know pain. Billy was a tortured soul.' This is true, and Doyle does a great job of examining the reasons for his torture, but what I have always taken from Billy Mackenzie was that he was able to move from sadness to almost elegiac highs, the voice soaring to lift your heart and soul. Have a listen, and look, at this clip of The Associates playing 'Party Fears Two', the song from Sulk which, to the casual listener, has defined Mackenzie's career. It moves from a kitchen sink scene to a dissection of love which sees his voice soaring above all, making those initial concerns insignificant. And watch Billy's face. As much as he tries to hide it (and considering the performance is obviously mimed), this is a man having the time of his life:

What becomes increasingly obvious is that Mackenzie was never more happy than when singing, although not necessarily in front of strangers or large crowds. His fear of flying would also have a crippling effect on his ability to tour, but he didn't need to make excuses, it seems that he was more than capable of deliberately sabotaging his own career. After Sulk, The Associates were one of the hottest properties around. Critically acclaimed by an increasingly hard to please music press, they were one of the few bands that could be on the cover of Smash Hits one week and the NME the next. The album made many end of year best of lists alongside Simple Mind's New Gold Dream, Orange Juice's You Can't Hide Your Love Forever and Altered Images Pinky Blue. When you add in records by Aztec Camera, Josef K and the debut single from The Blue Nile then 1982 was one of Scottish music's golden years. From Sulk this is 'Club Country':



It is clear that the prospect of fame and fortune began to terrify Mackenzie on a very base level causing him to self destruct, and some of the stories in The Glamour Chase are jaw dropping in the scale of excess, and can really only be explained as the acts of a man to whom life was an increasing struggle. Hiring rooms, and 'baby' sitters for his beloved whippets, in some of London's best hotels, moving from top restaurant to the next, stopping only to vomit in-between to make room for the next gourmet meal, or taking a taxi from London to Dundee, all in the pay of the record company, which would be fine except this was all added on to his advance. When you add in that the cost of the records were increasing as the sales diminished the story of Billy Mackenzie increasingly becomes one of disappointment and disillusion. Again it is music that saves the soul, and his most fruitful, and happiest, association after The Associates effectively disbanded was with Swiss electro-eccentrics Yello. Here is one of their collaborations, taken from the band's never completed project about another star whose life became an obsession for some. This is 'Norma Jean':

The goodwill towards Mackenzie, from family, friends and musicians alike, never wains. Although some decide that they can no longer work with him, there is little bitterness evident. Even his most excessive behaviour seems to be forgiven, often with a shrug that 'that was just Billy'. It's interesting to compare Doyle's book with last year's Nileism, the biography of The Blue Nile by Allan Brown, as there are similarities in the two tales. Both Mackenzie and The Blue Nile are hugely influential artists who tried to pave very individual career paths and who had to battle with record companies (often the same ones). But The Blue Nile apparently handled the situation much better than Mackenzie ever could, and maybe it is as simple as the fact that Mackenzie seemed determined to do it alone while The Blue Nile, most of the time, had each other. The paradox for Billy Mackenzie was that he needed collaborators yet refused to collaborate with them. It was, with the odd exception, Billy's way or no way  at all.

Billy Mackenzie was obviously a complex man, and, although Doyle's book is a fascinating and gripping read, it is ultimately a tragic tale. Not only because Mackenzie died two years younger than I am now, but because what haunts the book is the question of what could have been. Among the dedications which bring the book to its close is this from Siouxsie Sioux who rightly says 'You couldn't not admire him as a vocalist. But there was a sense that he was let down, in that life wasn't big enough for him.' Or perhaps, as Don Mclean sang about another tortured artist, 'this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you'.

I'm going to leave you with Billy singing live at Ronnie Scott's in 1984. This is what he did best, and is how I will always remember him. This is 'Breakfast':

You can buy The Glamour Chase from Scots Whay Hae's Local Shop ,from Amazon and all good book stores.

You Have Been Watching...Just Another Saturday

After the recent publication of Alan Bissett's Pack Men (see Pack Men), a novel which deals with, amongst other things, Scotland's sectarianism and how it is linked to religion, football and masculinity, I thought it would be worth watching Peter McDougall's controversial 'Play for Today' from 1975, Just Another Saturday. McDougall was granted unprecedented access to film the largest Orange Walk of the year, and the results still astonish today.

The film is a social commentary that remains relevant and, when you look at some of the scenes portrayed, then it's no surprise that no one has been allowed such access since. Those who permitted McDougall to film the walk must have been under the impression that he was going to show those who participate in a positive light, but, with the exception of one staged scene in Duncan Street, which is known to the band as 'Fenian Alley', McDougall simply points the camera and records what is around him.

It stars Jon Morrison as John, a young man who wakes up on the day of the walk full of excitement and expectation as he is going to be leading his band and swinging the mace. As his day progresses he starts to view things differently as communal celebration takes a darker turn. By the time he meets up with his mates in the evening, many of whom are Catholic, he is beginning to realise that such days can have life-long consequences and that what starts out as a day of excitement and colour can end in tragedy.

You may find it a stretch that someone could be so naive, but Morrison's performance is good enough that his move from joy, through confusion to disgust is, just about, believable. The supporting cast are superb. Bill Henderson and Eileen MCallum as John's Mum and Dad are torn between knowing of the dangers that lie ahead and pride that their son 'believes' in something. His Dad in particular is scathing about Scotland's 'divisions', and he is one of the few voices of reason in the play.  Ken Hutchison (who some may remember from Murphy's Mob) is the band leader who is supposed to be the reliable man in charge, but whose hatred is never far from the surface, and there are cameos from Phil McCall, Jake Darcy, Terry Neason and James Walsh.

But it is the footage of the walk and those who are in and around it that stays with you, particularly in Kelvin Grove Park. Here's a clip, although you can watch the whole thing on You Tube. This is after the march has ended and John is drinking with his pal Paddy, who just happens to be Billy Connolly:

At a time when the subject of sectarianism in Scottish society is under heavy scrutiny once more it is timely to remember Just Another Saturday. Glasgow in particular is a very different city these days, but here is something that endures and McDougall is canny enough not to simply dismiss and condemn, although he certainly condemns, but to look behind the scenes to try and understand the attraction of the Orange Walk to so many. The result is one of the most powerful, and controversial, dramas ever to come out of Scotland, one which is subtler than it first appears. This is not simply a one-sided argument, although no doubt some will see it that way. No matter your beliefs I would urge you to watch it, although there are times when you'll want to look away, and when you do feel like that, remember that those drums are still being played.