The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul
(1988)
Written by Douglas Adams

There are many authors who can lay claim to being funny. Most can, really, so long as we are operating within the broadest parameters of "funny" and "comedy." There are many authors who can lay claim to planning out large-scale stories, and can claim to doing it well enough. There are few authors who can claim to being funny and scale-capable. Precious, precious few. And Douglas Adams was one of them. Not only was he capable of making you laugh, and of telling a big story, but he did both brilliantly.

First, the stories. The stories in all of his books, from Holistic Detective Agency to each of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxys, are airtight, and wondrous concoctions. Without giving away much of what happens in The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul (as you will remember, I tend to avoid summaries), I was astonished by the dept owed to it by American Gods. There are a few more-than-passing resemblances between the two books, including a proclivity for Odin. I would go so far as to say Gaiman would not have conceived the same tale without having devoured Adam's book more than a few times. They aren't identical, not hardly, and Gods is, of course, heavier, but still, the flavour is undeniably there, the building blocks, the genes, are present in Tea-Time. And it's a comedy!

Which brings us to the humour. God, the humour. Most books defined as "comedies" are not outright hilarious; they usually have plots with absurdist touches, or occasional bits of laughter. This book, like all of Adam's authorial output, had me in, as they say, stitches, and often. Every page bore a laugh, a real laugh, with serious wit at its root. Adams is the writer Terry Pratchett wishes ever so terribly that he were, though Prachett himself is no slouch, and that should give you an idea as to how funny this book is. There were times I had to stop reading and recover, I was laughing so hard. That's something you can say about precious few books.

Grade: A

The Name of This Band Is...

Stop Making Sense
(1984)
Talking Heads
Directed by Jonathan Demme

Say what you will about David Byrne, Lord knows I have, but he gives a performance his all. This is the mother of all concert films, a genre (I suppose it would be a genre) with precious few gems. I started watching Stop Making Sense with doubts; I really don't care for David Byrne. Talking Heads are a great band, no question there, but I've never liked him, and in a band where the frontman is so central, that can create problems. Fortunately, on their albums and in this film, I don't hear him talk much, and that's really where he loses me.

Some things this does very, very right: the show starts with Byrne, an acoustic guitar, and a drum machine. It builds from there, until eight entirely necessary people are on stage. Almost everything on stage is black, so you can more easily focus your attention on the performers, and how they interact. The shots are not quick, MTV-style shots; this is clearly a movie, not a series of Performance Videos slammed together. (Ironically, H.A.A.R.P., by Muse, is the next best concert movie I've ever seen, and it's as MTV-style as it gets... so I suppose it works both ways) The set list is well judged, and the amount of energy the musicians put into these performances is mind blowing. This is serious commitment we're watching. Highly recommended, it's known to be the best for a good reason; it is.

Grade: A

Wednesday Classics, Vol. 3: Amadeus

Amadeus
(1984)
Written by Peter Shaffer
Directed by Milos Forman
Starring F. Murray Abraham, Tom Hulce

It really is a great movie. I was going to try to be technical and acute about this, but there's no point in trying. The Wednesday Classics aren't about dissecting what makes something great, and often times it's impossible to even attempt that.

Amadeus is one of the great films, and it is my choice for the greatest movie made to date (Ever assumes nothing made after this could better it, something I choose not to believe). The demons Salieri (Abraham) wrestles with are profound, and superb. At a young age, he offers his chastity to God in exchange for the ability to bring Him glory through great music. For the longest time, he believes that the bargain is being upheld, until he discovers Mozart, the gifts Mozart possesses, and the manner in which Mozart carries himself. Salieri believes that Mozart is giving God voice through music, that God has chosen this contemptable individual to be His vessel, and vows to destroy Mozart.

But don't let that stop you! I know it can sound over done, but it's really not. The movie is filled with brilliant moment after brilliant moment; a personal favourite is just before the first time we meet Mozart, when Salieri is walking around the room, trying to see if he can tell which of the people at the party is Mozart, wondering to himself if such genius is apparent on one's face. Moments like that take my breath away, regularly, and they are tossed off as though they are nothing, which, I suppose, is part of why they work. Moments like that which are focused on can seem obvious, or cheesy. The delivery here is such that you can only watch in amazement.

There's not much bad to say about it, though it may be too long (2.5 hours) or too slow for some. I don't have a problem with it. The whole affair is driven, as all the best stories are, by the characters, by what they want and what they desire. It is not meant to be a historically accurate representation of events, and you would do well to keep that in mind as well. It is a character study using the real figures of Antonio Salieri and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to frame itself around. Nothing here can be improved. Nothing need be. Perfection.

Grade: A+