Spectator Life

I would do anything to help a friend. Need money? A shoulder to cry on? A place to stay? A confidant to confess to? I’m your man. Want me to read your new novel? Forget it. I would do anything for a friend, but as the late Meat Loaf would say: I won’t do that. Sorry. I’ve been there. Read that. And I’ve had enough. Many years ago a really good friend showed me his first novel. It was so bad it left me speechless — but I had to say something. So I did the only thing a good and trusted friend could do: I lied. 'It’s really funny and smart!' I said. Since then he’s written four novels, all self-published and each one worse than the last one. And every time he asks me for my opinion I say, 'smart and funny' or 'funny and smart.

Until recently a ‘special military operation’ typically referred to a particular action/plan rather than all-out war. Unless you happen to live in Putin’s Russia, that is. John Madden’s (Shakespeare in Love) take on the real-life Operation Mincemeat is a solid entry in the canon of WWII movies that concern themselves with a particular military objective and the various forms of subterfuge that are used to achieve it. The plot of Operation Mincemeat centres on a ruse designed to distract the Germans from the Allied invasion of Sicily in 1943 by secreting false plans for the landing in Greece on a civilian corpse kitted out as a Royal Marine courier.

Is Steve Coogan a one trick pony? It's a question that has dogged the Mancunian actor's career ever since his preening Partridge flapped into the nation's affections over thirty years ago. Since then, with a couple of notable exceptions (his turn as Stan Laurel was a triumph), Coogan's projects have been little more than variations on a theme but without the genius of the source material. No matter how hard the actor tries to shake off his past with glossy Hollywood fodder, his polyester-pullovered alter-ego is never far from the surface.

News of the Anatomy of a Scandal billboards on Sunset Boulevard sits in my DMs while I shepherd my teens through the preschool chaos. It’s the morning I drive my youngest to school. ‘Have you seen my goggles?’ he calls, while I covertly flick to the Insta app on my phone and see that one of the executive producers of the Netflix show based on my thriller has sent me four messages. My heart trips. I may have written an international bestselling novel developed by the Big Little Lies dream team, but imposter syndrome rages; my default response that I’m about to be found out.

Britain's ancestral piles have had to move with the times. Nowadays it’s simply not enough to merely open up the state rooms. Today’s grand old houses have to offer something else to pull in the punters, and for the best of them that means focusing on fine art. Our stately homes have always boasted a wonderful array of artworks, but they were often hard to find. Today these treasures are properly curated, and, increasingly, they’re supplemented by first class contemporary art. Our country seats are now go-to places to see today’s leading artists, rather than sleepy repositories for rusty armour and dusty antiques. Seeing modern art in a stately home is far more fun than seeing it in a trendy gallery.

Joe Mankiewicz’s classic Olivier/Caine two-handed mystery thriller Sleuth will mark its 50th anniversary later this year, fortuitously in time for the release of Knives Out 2, which promises to be a similarly intriguing whodunnit – at least on the basis of 2019’s initial movie. Based on Anthony Shaffer’s Tony award-winning play, Sleuth depicts a battle of wits between snobbish mystery writer Andrew Wyke (Laurence Olivier) and hairdressing salon owner Milo Tindle/Tindolini (Michael Caine).

Last week I went to The Hammersmith Apollo to see Ludovico Einaudi perform his new album Underwater. I hadn’t been to a concert since before the pandemic and had forgotten the thrill of live music. Recordings can never match the sensual and social experience of live performance. When listened to collectively,  music unmasks the soul – solitary emotions are suddenly shared – and it connects us to something greater than ourselves. Music is the medium I go to for comfort when life is not quite making sense Underwater is Einaudi’s first solo piano album in two decades, becoming the fastest streamed classical music album in history. High minded critics turn their noses up, calling his music ‘elementary’.

On 24 April the series Gaslit, starring Julia Roberts as Martha Mitchell and Sean Penn as Watergate-era U.S. Attorney General John Mitchell, will premiere on Starz. It joins a multitude of books, films, and TV shows about Watergate, starting with the Oscar-winning All the President’s Men (1976) running through to 2017's The Post. Granted, Watergate was one of the most disturbing moments in American political history. But why do films and TV shows continue to emerge 50 years after the event itself? Perhaps because they not only speak to long-standing myths about the power of the individual and the resilience of American democracy, but also to deep-seated fears about its fragility.

‘A sky full of stars and he was staring at her’ is a love poem by a dead Roman but on the London Underground, all a man will find if he looks skyward is a TFL advert warning him if he stares at me in an Attican fashion I’m to call the police. ‘Staring’ (Sadiq Khan’s bright red public safety warning reads – with ominous eyeballs popping out of the ‘a’ and the ‘g’) that may be construed as ‘intense’ and of ‘sexual nature’ is now ‘sexual harassment’ and ‘not tolerated’. Should anyone ‘see it or experience it’ they are to text the British Transport Police or dial an 0800 sexual harassment hotline if they want to remain anonymous.

The sad news that Bruce Willis is ‘stepping away’ from acting due to an aphasia diagnosis came as a surprise to fans, but the film industry has been rife with rumours about his possible medical problems over recent years. The slew of cheap straight-to-DVD action thrillers (with relatively little screen time) he starred in since 2014 made observers wonder whether Willis was making as much money as he could to ensure both care in his retirement and a decent inheritance for his family. The fact that the famously motor mouthed actor of Moonlighting and his long run of hit movies opted for increasingly taciturn roles led insiders to wonder whether something was wrong.

Will Smith’s straight arm slap of Chris Rock at the Oscars was, for my money, the most interesting event ever to have transpired at any awards show in history. It pips even my previous favourite, which was when Jarvis Cocker ran onstage during the 1996 Brits to reveal his buttocks in protest at Michael Jackson’s ludicrously overblown performance of Earth Song. Did Rock ask to be attacked for humiliating Smith’s wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith, on account of her alopecia? Yes, of course. But that was the point. The joke was predicated entirely on the comic getting away with saying the unsayable – a formulation of words intended to be deeply provocative – and for the audience to experience the attendant risk as electricity.

Now this is a story all about how The Oscars got flipped-turned upside down. And I'd like to take a minute. Just sit right there. I'll tell you how I told told a joke about a chick with no hair... Well, I think we all know what the opening routine of Chris Rock’s next Netflix special is going to be. Say what you want about the Oscars, this year people are certainly talking about them. But not about the movies, about the Fresh Prince himself, Will Smith, slapping comedian Chris Rock on a worldwide broadcast in front of the Hollywood elite. Like every British comedian, after I woke up and read the news, I ran to Twitter to attempt a joke about this bizarre spectacle, only to find out I’d been beaten to the punch, as it were.

‘There are two kinds of writers,’ Harlan Coben says with a grin. ‘There are those who, one day, hope to see their books on screen, and there are those who are lying to you.’ Coben, a New York Times best-selling crime writer, knows how fortunate he is. You can’t flick through Netflix without seeing trailers for one of his shows with their short and punchy titles: The Woods, The Stranger, Safe. The stories might not win Pulitzers, but the plot twists and murders of Coben’s suburban noir are wildly popular. Netflix has signed him to an unprecedented 14-show deal; ten have already been made for British, American, Polish, French and Spanish audiences. Yet Coben shied away from the movie business until later in his career.

This August will see the 50th anniversary of Francis Ford Coppola’s classic crime drama The Godfather. The picture and its 1974 sequel raised the cinematic depiction of The Mob from being crowd-pleasing shoot ‘em ups to a subject worthy of serious filmmakers and subsequent movies in the genre made explicit comparisons between organised crime and wider society, specifically government. Indeed, thanks to The Godfather, the mobster movie has become a permanent Hollywood fixture – a genre that top directors seek to reference, if not wholeheartedly embrace, at some point in their careers. 2022 is no exception: this month sees the release of Graham Moore's The Outfit.

I don’t know about you but I’m a rather a fan of Batman or The Batman, if you prefer to give him the definite article as the new film does. It’s also rather heartening to see so many fine British actors earning a pretty penny portraying him – Robert Pattinson dons the cowl in the new film, hot on the heels of Christian Bale. And it’s not just Gotham’s bone crushing vigilante that our acting schools are clearly adept at preparing actors for: Brits Tom Holland Andrew Garfield have both slung webs as Spider-man and of course Henry Cavill has done the blue leotard proud playing Superman four times.

Sunday was fairly typical. The police picked up Mum, 73, wandering in distress near Halifax bus station, cold, disorientated and lost. Son, 15, was walking with a friend in north London when two older boys stopped them and demanded to know if they were dealing drugs before scrolling through their phones to check. Daughter, 18 was determined to go see her boyfriend despite feeling ill and Dad, 77, sat in a pub on the Yorkshire Moors nursing a pint of ale and a failing heart. While all this was going on, I was mopping floors, cleaning dishes, hanging out washing, and trying to write a book. When Son, 15 arrived home panting because he’d run all the way home, my wife and I spent some time calming him down and reassuring him that such incidents are rare.

The sexiest scene in Adrian Lyne’s new film, Deep Water, starring Ana de Armas and Ben Affleck, may be de Armas eating an apple—a distant echo of the iconic food scene in Lyne’s 9 ½ Weeks (1986). Based on Patricia Highsmith’s 1957 novel, in which an openly adulterous wife suspects her husband of drowning her latest lover, the plot has more to do with power than pleasure. The 81-year-old Lyne, who hit paydirt with Fatal Attraction (1987) and Indecent Proposal (1993), has re-emerged after a two-decade hiatus since Unfaithful (2002). Sadly, the hotly anticipated return of the erotic thriller is neither erotic nor thrilling, which may explain why it was pulled from theatrical release.

Michael Gove has announced that members of the public will be able to offer rooms and accommodation to named refugees through a government portal – Homes for Ukraine – which was launched on Monday. Gove said that he was confident there would be no shortage of people coming forward, although he gave a somewhat roundabout answer as to whether he himself would be hosting a refugee. The British public, however, appear to be very open to becoming hosts, with one in three saying they would offer a room, according to a poll conducted by The Observer. When Gove launched the scheme in the House of Commons yesterday, Lisa Nandy was quick to criticise the government’s policy of asking volunteers to name Ukrainians who they wished to host.