Neil Gaiman Week: Stardust (The Film)

Finally, here on Neil Gaiman Week, we come to the raison d’etre for a week of posts about Neil Gaiman – the film adaptation of Stardust arriving in the UK. Even though the film has been promoted on other factors – the ‘Britishness’ of the film, the director (who happens to be married to a supermodel), the stars involved – it is the author of the source material that has been the centre of much of the media coverage. And hurrah for that.

As with most adaptations, the film is a streamlined version of the book. Tristran Thorn (Charlie Cox) learns of his heritage (that his he was born of a union between his father and a woman on the other side of the wall) in the first five minutes of the film, before he has promised Victoria (a perfectly snooty Sienna Miller) that he will bring her back the fallen star to win her hand in marriage. Using the Babylon candle left him by his mother, he travels to the star, to find that it is a woman called Yvaine (Clare Danes). Around her neck, she wears a chain with a jewel, the one that was thrown by the dying king of Stormhold (Peter O’Toole) and which knocked from the sky, the one he has told his remaining sons to retrieve if they wish to become the next king. Three witches are also after the star, for the heart will provide them with another amount of long life – the oldest (and craftiest) of the three (played with relish and enthusiasm by Michelle Pfeiffer) has taken the last of the previous star heart to make her young and powerful again so that she may retrieve the heart. Tristran has seven days to bring back Yvaine (he has her tied to him with a magical chain) while the others chase her too …

And so the race is on. Along the way, they meet Robert De Niro as Captain Shakespeare, pretending to be a fierce pirate but actually a sophisticated gay man (note: De Niro is stunt casting, making the contrast between the gruff pirate and the effeminate reality more shocking and amusing, but he really can’t play gay to save his life), Ricky Gervais playing Ricky Gervais as a fence, and Mark Strong as the remaining prince (after he has killed most of the others – there is a lovely bait-and-switch when we see Rupert Everett enter as one of the princes, expecting him to be the hero, only to be dispatched by Strong by pushing him out of the top of the castle; after, he joins the remaining princes as a ghostly Greek chorus to the events, unable to have peace in death until the Stormhold crown is settled. It has to be said that there is not enough of the princes, played as they are by British comedy types – David Walliams, Adam Buxton, Mark Heap, Julian Rhind-Tutt).

The film doesn’t always work – in trying to capture Midnight Run and Princess Bride, the ‘banter’ between Tristran and Yvaine is rather forced and counterintuitive: how does a star have sarcastic and quippy retorts? It’s necessary, as the film condenses the time frame of the book from several months to a week, so we have to go from initial hatred to love in a short time, but it isn’t always believable. However, the sum of the parts make up for the individual deficiencies. Pfeiffer and Danes do very good English accents (only De Niro doesn’t bother), the princes are very funny, the magical aspect (that problematic fantasy stuff for the general public) works really well – I particularly loved the glowing hair motif for Danes – and the changes to the source material fit well into a film. Most impressively of all, you are left with a wonderfully warm feeling when the film ends – who can ask for more from a film?

Rating: VID

Neil Gaiman Week: Stardust (The Book)

Stardust – Being a Romance Within the Realms of Faerie

by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess

I remember when I first got this book – I was exchanging some comic books for new material, including Stardust. I hadn’t read it before, but I knew that Gaiman had written it and Vess had illustrated it – what else did I need to know? However, I was surprised to find out that it was an illustrated novel – I thought it was a comic book. D’oh!

The novel is as described exactly in the subtitle – a love story in Faerie. In the village of Wall, some time in the past, Dunstan Thorn crosses the gap in the wall that leads to Faerie, where he meets a woman entrapped by a witch, and they make love. Nine months later, a baby boy called Tristran is left at Dunstan’s doorstep. Eighteen years later, he foolishly promises to retrieve the fallen star that fell to Earth on the other side of the wall for the young lady he loves. Meanwhile, the king of Stormhold is dying and throws his silver chained-pendant with topaz out of the castle and tells his remaining sons whoever finds it will be the next king. Tristran finds the fallen star – a beautiful woman called Yvainne – and begins the journey of taking her back as a gift for his love. Of course, things don’t quite go to plan …

Gaiman writes the story in a slightly old-fashioned style, but maintaining his distinctive voice, with its lightness of touch, clarity of storytelling, elegant choice of phrase, clean dialogue and impish sense of humour. The story starts slowly, as he sets the scene of the normality of village life in Wall – this is necessary to highlight the world of Faerie in which the bulk of the story takes place – but it makes you wish that he would get on with it. When he does write about the magical world, the story just floats on air, alive and organic, as if it is an old story told many times before.

Of course, if you are going to have a story set in Faerie, the only choice of artist is Charles Vess. Whenever I read stories set in magical realms, it is Vess’ art that I see in my mind’s eye. The ethereal, otherworldiness he brings to his depictions of witches and stars and magic are just so perfect, with the elongated human shapes and the exquisite detail. The combination of words and art is quite charming, and I don’t mind the fact that I originally thought this was a comic book. Stardust is quite the most charming fairy tale, with a poetically appropriate ending and a thoroughly believable romance. Thoroughly deserving of turning into a film …

Neil Gaiman Week: Neverwhere (Graphic Novel)

From A Library: Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere by Mike Carey and Glenn Fabry

And so continues the strange evolution of Neverwhere – from television series to novel to comic book. Has there been a stranger path? And, to let you know where it came from (this is a Vertigo book so has to use a name for a selling point), it becomes ‘Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere’ (does he own it outright? He created the show with Lenny Henry, who came up with the concept of doing a story about homeless people; is this to say it is based on his novel rather than the programme?). Neil is far too busy to adapt his own work to comic book form, so Mike Carey is brought in to do the legwork and Glenn Fabry provides the artwork.

Carey is no stranger to following Gaiman – he made his name in the comic book world with Lucifer, the Sandman spin-off – and his Felix Castor stories (which I have enjoyed immensely) demonstrate his familiarity and comfort with London and fantasy elements. He follows the story of the book (see review of novel for more detail) but without the prologue, with occasional individual touches to add something of himself – there is a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy line thrown in that wasn’t in the source material. There is one change that I think is of note – the ending, where Door confronts the mastermind behind the death of her family: in the book, she is shocked by the revelation, whereas the comic book has her reveal that she knew who was responsible, which is why she had planned for the twist that allows her to defeat the villain of the piece. Although Door is a more than competent character, this emphasis on her understanding of the situation throws a different light on her decisions and character throughout the rest of the story. An interesting change.

Fabry is an appropriate choice as artist for the book – his characters have always had an ugly beauty to them, dishevelled and grotty and looking like they would go unnoticed in Camden Market on a Saturday back in the days when it wasn’t completely full with tourists. His characters look perhaps a little too solid and large of thigh for me, but he draws the different worlds of London Above and Below with ease, and his storytelling doesn’t allow the reader to lose what is happening. As I have mentioned before, I still prefer his early b&w precision on Slaine in 2000AD, but that’s just my personal preference.

The only question at the end of the day is whether the story works in comic book form; was the adaptation justified? I’m not sure if anything was gained by the four-colour serialisation, but that could be my jaded self talking, having seen it for a third time now (will I be able to ever watch it as a film with an unbiased view?). I think I prefer the novel as the version of the story, and I’m not sure why Clandestine Chum Johnny Bacardi was so impressed with it in his reviews when the series came out (sorry JB).

Neil Gaiman Week: Neverwhere (Television Series)

I vaguely remember seeing an episode of Neverwhere when it was first shown on the BBC back in the mid 1990s. The unusual yet pretty face of Laura Fraser, with her big eyes and scruffy clothes, are all I can remember of the show – there wasn’t much in that episode that made me decide to keep watching. I was aware of Neil Gaiman by then, which is why I was watching the programme in the first place. Only, it was rather shoddy and a little embarrassing, so I didn’t keep watching.

Having arrived recently on DVD, Neverwhere is fresh for appraisal and for viewing the complete story, especially having read the book and the comic book adaptation (what a strange path).

As the original version, as it were, it is interesting to watch this version of the story. The opening credits by Dave McKean are ethereal and gorgeous, of course. However, it doesn’t bode for what is to follow. The main problem with the television series is that it looks like a sci-fi serial made on the cheap for the BBC in the mid 1980s, rather than ten years later. The closest parallel is Doctor Who, but that’s a little harsh; there is some visual invention within but it doesn’t look very good. The dream sequence, with Richard and the Beast of London, looks very much of the time and the camera work is rather pedestrian, insisting on close-ups of the actors faces, which only highlight the slightly shaky feel. In addition, the supposed use of multiple tunnels to give variety doesn’t work because they all look exactly the same anyway, especially the oft-used closed station that triples up for whatever tube stop is required.

The positive aspect of the visuals is the set design – it seems that where the limited budget was spent, and some of the places look good (such as the Angel Islington’s chambers and the Floating Markets). In particular, the use of London locations is nicely done, using the Battersea power station and the roof tops of London to very good effect.

All of this doesn’t make up for the mismatched tone; the DVD is rated 15, presumably for swearing, but the approach is children’s television. The ‘magic realism’ that is much more acceptable now was ahead of its time back then, and the director doesn’t seem to get it completely. Subsequently, all the actors aren’t really on the same page, each doing their own thing (although that is not to say that everyone is bad), not coming together until near the end of the story.

This certainly doesn’t help the dialogue – what works well on the page (and when the tone is right) doesn’t feel natural or organic on this show. Apart from perhaps Hwyel Bennet as Mr Croup, it doesn’t gel. I don’t know if this is the programme as a whole or a slight imperfection in Neil Gaiman’s dialogue – the dialogue in Mirrormask (as I mentioned in my review) wasn’t the most memorable. Is it heresy of me to say that perhaps Neil, being more bookish, works best in books?

The strangest thing for me watching it now is seeing people on it you recognise from more recent things. The Marquis de Carabas is played by Paterson Joesph, from Peep Show and Green Wing. Angel Islington is Peter Capaldi, the wonderfully swearing spin doctor Malcolm Tucker in The Thick Of It. Mr Vandemar is played by Clive Russell, who I always associate from Spaced series two, and Tasmin Grieg, now more famous from Black Books and Green Wing, has a small role as Lamia.

The most interesting extra of the DVD is a rather odd interview with Neil himself, in a huge leather jacket, staring straight to camera and talking about his experience (with his very English wonky lower teeth and mess of wavy hair). He doesn’t seem completely comfortable talking on camera (I’ve seen him at a book reading, ironically for the launch of the book version of Neverwhere, where he was much more comfortable talking about himself and his work) but he is a natural storyteller and provides some interesting anecdotes – such as the fact that the whole thing came about because Lenny Henry wanted to make a fantasy series about the homeless.

I think the television series might be for completists only – perhaps a film with a higher budget might be the best option? At least we have the book …

Neil Gaiman Week: Neverwhere (The Book)

My chronological memory is rather hazy, which is a shame; when I remember actual things, I do have a strong sense of the memory. I can’t recall when I went to a reading/Q&A by Neil Gaiman – I think it was soon after I returned to London, which would be about mid to late ‘90s but I wouldn’t swear to that in court. What I remember most, apart from the enjoyable time listening to Neil talk and read, was him reading the last words of the first chapter of the book: ‘Bugger.’

Or, that’s how I remember it. This version’s chapter one doesn’t end with the word ‘bugger’ (it’s about two-thirds of the way in), and I don’t know if it’s my memory or the fact that I have ‘Author’s preferred text’. Whichever it is, it’s still a lot better than the television series. This is in itself is quite odd – Neil Gaiman and Lenny Henry get a television series created but Neil wasn’t completely happy with the finished product (more due to the nature of the BBC making fantasy programmes at the time than anything else) so he writes the book of the show for himself. Normally, when other media ruins a story, you’ve always got the original – how many times does somebody go out of their way to effectively create the original for comparative purposes?

Richard Mayhew, an ordinary chap in an ordinary job, helps a homeless-looking girl in trouble, and his life changes forever. Because she is Door of London Below, the surviving member of her family, who have all been killed, and is still being hunted. Having interacted with her, and helped her obtain protection in the form of the Marquis de Carabas, Richard is now one of London Below, and his existence is ignored by London Above – he no longer has a job, a flat or a girlfriend. Desperate and alone, through chance he gets to London Below and finds Door again and aids her in her quest to find the people responsible for the death of her family. Along the way, he meets people with names of familiar London places – Old Bailey, Hammersmith, the Seven Sisters, the Earl of Earl’s Court, the Black Friars – and sees the other side of London.

As with all Gaiman’s work, the mix of the real and magical is thoroughly absorbing and totally believable – there is never any room for doubt in the world he has created. This had an unwanted side-effect of making the stretches of the beginning of the book in the normal world seem even more mundane than is the obvious intention, but that could be my preference for the fantasy aspect of the novel. It matters little after getting into the story – Gaiman’s prose, clear and eloquent, brings the magical to life in an extraordinarily apposite manner and you forget everything else. I wasn’t completely convinced of the transformation of Richard into the hero character at the end, but that could be the good job of making him so ordinary throughout the rest of the book.

Being a Londoner, the transformation of the tube map into a collection of strange people and places is utterly charming (the Angel Islington brings a smile to my face just typing it). The characters that populate the story are a delight – the enigmatic Marquis, the white collar professional thugs Mr Croup and Mr Vandemar are a lot of fun, Hunter – and the book feels like it is a complete thing, rather than the novelisation of a television series because Gaiman wasn’t totally happy with the way the show worked out (and rightfully so). Although my favourite novel of his is American Gods, Neverwhere is still a wonderful mix of story and storytelling that gets quite close.