j4m3s-b4k3r

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

David Robert Jones

The first time I became aware of David Bowie it wasn’t as a singer but as an actor. In early 1978 I was 13 years old and my friend Phil’s mum suggested we go to the drive-in to watch a sci-fi film. Hoo-boy, I was excited! The film was THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH. 

It wasn’t a kid-friendly movie by any means, but a weird artsy fartsy flick. During one memorable moment, Bowie took his own eyeballs out, then goes on to remove his hair, and his cock & balls too, revealing that he was actually an alien. This prompted his girlfriend to piss herself on camera. None of this was what any of us expected. I remember we turned to one another in the car with "WTF?!" expressions. However, Phil's mum was intrigued enough to let us stay till movie's end (Phil's mum was cool).

This must have been in the wake of STAR WARS and CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, when the manager of the local drive-in probably figured that a good way of cashing in on the buzz was to show anything at all with a sci-fi slant. 

I didn’t know then that the alien with the detachable genitals was actually a singer, but figured that out a few years later, and was deff a Bowie fan by my last few years of high school. It was the dawning of the MTV/rock video era, and Bowie made a splash with his promo videos. I especially remember those for the album SCARY MONSTERS. 

There is an amusing anecdote about the video for the hit single ASHES TO ASHES. Bowie was being filmed walking up a beach dressed in the pierrot outfit he wore on the cover of the SCARY MONSTERS album, when an old man and his dog walked into shot. The crew yelled at him, to get out of the way. Gesturing at Bowie, the director said to the old codger “Do you know who this is?” The old guy looks Bowie up and down and replies “Of course I do. It’s some çµn† in a clown suit.” Bowie later said “That was a huge moment for me. It put me back in my place and made me realise, yes, I’m just a çµn† in a clown suit. I think about that old guy all the time.” 

Across the other side of the world however, a certain 16 year old was actually impressed. To me, Bowie was an enigma in a clown suit, and I was curious enough to find more of his records. Each album had a new musical style, with a new persona for Bowie to strut around in. These frequent costume & character changes were lampooned brilliantly by FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS in their hilarious BOWIE episode. Some people found this Bowie as chameleon shtick alienating, feeling that he wasn’t committed to anything other than his own fame. However, I loved this approach, and absolutely everything Bowie did in the 1970s - his GOLDEN YEARS.

Some of my fave albums were all of the “Berlin Trilogy” - LOW, “HEROES” and  LODGER. I recently read that the cover photo for the album “HEROES” was taken by legendary photographer Masayoshi Sukita exactly 48 years ago in April 1977. Learning that fact prompted this post, and a tribute drawing:

The Thin White Duke’s strung out early 1970s appearances on TV chat shows fostered his early image of other-worldly weirdness. Hard to say if that was simply PR posturing, or drugs (or both) because he became a charming and witty talk show guest in later decades, serving up many funny anecdotes.

Maybe that crotchety old bugger on a cold British beach had a lasting impact on Bowie, as his music definitely changed after that encounter. The early 1980s saw some of his biggest hits but (for me) he creatively sputtered throughout the rest of the decade. In 1983 I saw Bowie - who was but a tiny figure in the distance - in concert, for the SERIOUS MOONLIGHT tour. I stopped following his music around that time. However, his earlier work that I first fell in love with, has been in constant rotation on my Walkmans, iPods and home music systems ever since.

It is hard to say why some celebrity deaths are more affecting than others - after all, I don’t know any of these people personally - but learning that Ziggy had turned back into Stardust did affect me. Even though I’d not followed his work for many years, the news of Bowie's death left me surprised and saddened, and had me devouring his records & videos constantly for weeks thereafter. Amazingly, there was fresh material. While quietly battling cancer during his last years, Bowie had enough energy to make a musical play and a new album, which was released at the time of his death. A consummate showman, David Robert Jones knew that memorable exits are just as important as entrances for an unforgettable performance.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

Tana French

Born in America but raised all over the world, the author Tana French has a wonderful ear for the rhythms of dialog generally, and the snark & lilt of Irish patter in particular. Trained as an actor, she went to college in Ireland and now makes her home in Dublin. Though known as “The First Lady of Irish Crime” her stories are only about crime on the surface. At their core they are explorations of different types of human relationships.

Author Tana French.

The first of her stories that I read was THE WITCH ELM, a standalone novel, unrelated to her other book series. At the time, I was on a Stephen King binge and read that he recommended this story in a review in the New York Times. This crime novel is not written from the viewpoint of a detective, but a victim. Beaten to a pulp by burglars in his own home, he awakes in hospital with a badly battered body and an equally bruised memory. 

Detectives appear in this story as alpha predators. Grinning wolves snapping at someone wounded by a traumatic crime. Eventually, it becomes two crimes, with the discovery of a body hidden within a tree in the garden of the family home where he recuperates. Partly inspired by the true story of a body discovered hidden in a tree, this novel also questions the role of of detectives themselves:

“I definitely think that it’s a good movement within the mystery genre, to acknowledge that the detective’s point of view is not the only one, and is not necessarily the crucial one, and is not necessarily the heroic one.“ -Tana French

The next Tana French books that I read were the DUBLIN MURDER SQUAD series, which are the novels that she is most famous for. Typically, these kinds of stories follow one detective, but instead this series follows an entire department. Thus, someone who is a secondary character in one novel will be the protagonist in another. With the exception of the first two novels (which are interconnected) they can be read in any order. 

The first book in this series was IN THE WOODS, Tana French’s award-winning debut novel from 2007. Told from the point of view of detective Rob Ryan, who becomes obsessed with a case that is related to a crime he survived as a child. This book is notable for its portrayal of the friendship between Rob and his detective partner Cassie. They are both damaged souls and kindred spirits, who understand each other like no-one else can. Will their relationship stay platonic (like Steed & Peel?) Or will they screw it up by, well, screwing (like Mulder & Scully?) You’ll have to read the book to find out.. 

“I come from an acting background. So for me, the natural thing is to see characters as three-dimensional as possible and to try to bring the reader to the point where they’re seeing this world through the characters’ fears and needs and biases and objectives. So that’s where I start from.”  -Tana French

THE LIKENESS was the second book, told by Rob’s partner, Cassie Maddox, and likewise involves a case of hidden identity and subterfuge. Julia & I just finished watching a TV adaptation of these first two books in this series (which combines the plots of the first two books in a way that I’m not yet sure if I liked).

"I have always been caught by the pull of the unremarkable, by the easily missed, infinitely nourishing beauty of the mundane." -Tana French

Often, there isn’t total clarity at the end of a Tana French novel. In the final scene, her detectives do not call everyone into the drawing room to melodramatically explain the mystery, step by step. The case at the centre of the story might have a few unanswered questions. Or, if there is a conclusion to the core mystery, there will be spiky, unresolved emotional issues around it.

The puzzles in her stories are more about the characters themselves than the crimes.. the effects of trauma and obsession. The how and why of people doing what they do. Tana French doesn’t plan her books in advance but writes straight ahead, then rewrites based on the characters she discovered as she creates. Her stories can be long winded and rambling at times, but at their best, they have surprising plots, with deep character writing, and insightful observations, rendered in absolutely glittering prose.

“I’m always worried because I don’t plan in advance—what if I dive in there and there’s no book and the threads never tie up? But fingers crossed. It’s always been okay so far.“ -Tana French

Her most recent series is the CAL HOOPER stories, about a Chicago policeman retiring to a cottage in rural Ireland, then becoming embroiled in the intrigues of this little community. Originally intended as a standalone alone story, instead it became a series with a third book on the way. These are perhaps my faves of any Tana French books that I’ve read so far. 

Many of her stories have at their centre a bunch of strangers forming a family of sorts. Sometimes it feels dysfunctional, obsessive, or cultish (THE LIKENESS, THE SECRET PLACE) but here I was rooting for Cal, and his neighbours Lena & Trey, to rise above the limitations of their character flaws & respective situations, and form a new family unit.

“There is this expectation that closure or a happy ending must involve reconciliation in some way with your blood family. And I think it’s ridiculous, because that’s not how the reality works. There are situations where the only closure is via division, via literally closing that door forever.” -Tana French

The audiobooks of THE SEARCHER & THE HUNTER are read by Roger Clark, an Irish American actor who can effortlessly shift between American and Irish accents. All of Tana French's audiobooks that I’ve listened to so far have been narrated by Irish actors. It is a pleasure to hear her beautiful prose with Irish narration, that captures the musical rhythms of Irish speech.

“The Irish wit and humor and quick banter—I know this is a cliché; I know that Ireland has a reputation for this, but it is true. It’s one of the major currencies. Here the ability to go quickfire back and forth with your friends shows everything from hierarchy to affection to conflict. Everything is filtered through this lens of humour.“ -Tana French

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

KAT and TELLY

Being the adventures of a small black cat in white underpants, and its pal the magical TV.

Being the adventures of a small black cat and his magical television.

A mini-comic for APE 2009, in San Francisco. Hope to draw more of these guys someday.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

deadpan & deadly

A recent TV favourite is the Australian crime comedy MR INBETWEEN. About a night club bouncer who is embroiled in underworld shadiness on the side. While also raising his ’tween daughter, dating, and caring for his terminally ill brother. 

The 'hitman as everyman' is by now a tired trope, and I wasn’t expecting to like this show as much as I did. However, I was quickly on the hook. Constantly marvelling at the balancing act this series manages, between laughs, and grim spectacles of mortality & dread. A dreadpan comedy. This show manages to be funny, terrifying, and even (surprisingly) poignant. 

All 26 episodes in the 3 season run were written by Scott Ryan, who also stars as Sydney crim, Ray Shoesmith. Every episode was directed by Nash Edgerton, one of the founders of Blue Tongue films. I first became aware of this collective of filmmakers via their short films SPIDER, BEAR and I LOVE SARAH JANE. They’d started making shorts a few years earlier, to support each other and expand their skills. Going on to make several highly regarded feature films (including ANIMAL KINGDOM).

Nash Edgerton started his career as a stuntman on such films as TWO HANDS (a personal fave) and Hollywood blockbusters shot in Australia (like the MATRIX trilogy and STAR WARS prequels) while directing rock videos & short films. Including the one that got him noticed, 1997’s DEADLINE. 

In 2005, Edgerton saw an early 30 minute cut of THE MAGICIAN. A mockumentary following a Melbourne hit man on the job. Scott Ryan wrote, directed, and starred in it himself, on a budget of $3,000. Edgerton helped expand it to feature length, getting it a cinematic release in 2005. Ryan & Edgerton then developed the film into a TV series, and took it to networks. All balked at a show starring the unknown Ryan. 

Then, in 2018, the FX network took a chance on MR INBETWEEN. Perhaps because by that time Edgerton’s stock had risen, having directed feature films THE SQUARE, GRINGO, and several high profile rock videos. Ryan had never been on a professional film set before working on MR INBETWEEN. He'd only done odd jobs. Driving taxis and delivering pizzas since last being in front of the camera, over a decade earlier.

So it’s perhaps understandable that networks hesitated. Assuming that he couldn’t carry a series. However, I’m glad they finally took a chance, as Scott Ryan gives the performance of a well seasoned actor. With range to deliver brilliantly timed deadpan comedy, deadly rage, and even existential sadness.

Being embroiled in the everyday lives of antiheroes is one of TV’s most familiar setups. A ‘way in’ to a loon's life, allowing the average non-psychopath to empathise with (if not exactly like) the main character. We learned to understand Tony Soprano (the prototype for all these recent ‘everyman’ goons) when introduced to him via his therapy sessions. It was hard not to feel for Walter White, as he dealt with his financial & medical emergencies. 

Similarly, when Ray talks about unicorns with his daughter over ice cream, or reads her a children’s book, of course we’ll see the softer side of the hardened crook. But for me, 'getting' Ray, began when he took the blame for his buddy Gary’s porn stash. Discovered by Gary’s wife. In taking a bullet for his mate, and willingly copping naked contempt for it, I began to actually like Ray, and his personal no mate left behind warrior code.

Some early reviews complained that the basic idea for the series was nothing new. It's true that we do see Ray in anger management classes, and other such familiar scenes (entertaining though they may be). However, the series evolves, and by season two I found the stories to be uniquely thrilling affecting and funny. Critics who stayed with the series agree.

The 19-25 minute episodes are miracles of narrative compression. They swoop in, set their explosive timers, and get out. Just like Ray on a mission. Some are purely funny. Focusing on bickering between Ray and his crim cohorts. Or verbal sparring with his daughter & brother (the bogan poetry of my people bantering was, for me, a constant pleasure). There are also brief, existential meditations. Other episodes are barely verbal - action movies distilled to a white knuckled twenty minutes. Taken as a whole, the series is a crime comedy that evolves into something more. A smorgasbord of brilliantly written, acted and directed short films - serving laughter, horror, thrills, and heartbreak.

---------

Nash Edgerton’s most recent directing was for the Irish black comedy thriller BODKIN on Netflix. Scott Ryan is apparently writing new stuff, but has kept a low profile since MR INBETWEEN. That great series had a long gestation, and the next one might too. I'll gladly wait as long as it takes for him to deliver his next gem.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

unnecessary nudity

In wintery London, I was made to strip naked and stand in a white-tiled room with about 10 other shivering applicants. Each huddled, with ‘nads cringing against the cold like baby birds. After a long wait, a couple of white coats entered and went down the line, one by one. Prodding & poking at our wedding tackles with a popsicle stick, and writing assessments of the puckered wonders they’d just beheld.

I'll never forget the look of utter disdain on the face of this bloke. As he kneaded my scrote this way & that with his little wooden spatula thingy. His pinched expression made it absolutely clear that he hadn’t got into that line of work for lusty gratification. No, he wasn’t enjoying it at all. With lots of arching of nostril and curling of lip he looked like.. well, exactly like someone might look when obliged to stare-down 10 frigid todgers.

I was never clear on what these medicos were looking for. Venereal disease? Crabs? That we were genetically male, as had been checked on our immigration forms? Who knows.. Surely such things could be better resolved with blood tests and whatnot anyway.

Then again, unnecessary nudity is often part of the medical process. You can be in a top-of-the-line facility, surrounded by high-tech & multimillion dollar equipment, but if a robe is supplied, it will be a flimsy paper smock with your arse hanging out. In this case, we didn’t even have that. 

It’s a fact that people are less likely to backchat when bereft of their clothes. There are those rare folk who can be intimidating in the nude, but I’m not one of them. Even though my Celtic ancestors supposedly went into battle naked, I’m much less likely to be stroppy when deprived of my pants.

Bureaucracies thrive on docility & humiliation. Especially the medical & immigration bureaucracies. Oh yes. And I was at the mercies of both of them. Ah, the glories of a Green Card Medical Exam. 

I was already in the USA on a work visa, when informed that my application for a Green Card had moved to the next phase, and had to fly to London. For an assessment at the US Embassy. Only to discover that, for the final judgement, Uncle Sam wanted.. to check the angle of my dangle?

Adding to the weirdness of this process is the fact that it doesn't happen to everyone. I know of people who acquired their Green Cards without having to perform the striptease & floorshow. Some folk even claim that it is too freaky to be believed, and is merely an urban legend. 

Well, I am here to tell the doubters that, verily, I am that legend. That immigration unicorn - the lucky person randomly (?) chosen for the naked VIP treatment. Suffice it to say that, despite decades living in the USA, I am not ready for whatever demeaning rigamarole is required for American citizenship. When just getting a mere Green Card was such a load of bollocks.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Australian Crawl

When living nearby, I used to swim at the North Sydney Pool. One of the most spectacular swimming pools in the world. As you swim in one direction you face the iconic LUNA PARK, and in the other direction is that famous ‘coat hanger’ - the SYDNEY HARBOUR BRIDGE.

Swimming laps at the North Sydney Pool

Though I came to love it, my introduction to swimming was fraught with drama. While kick-boarding in an ocean rock pool at the age of 6, my board was flicked from my hands when a wave came over the sea wall. I went from misplaced confidence to abject terror within two gulpings of sea water. Thankfully, Dad spotted me going under and ran along the sea wall, dived in, and fished me out. 

I was wary of the water afterward. This wasn’t helped by my maternal grandfather ‘teaching’ me how to swim by literally throwing me in at the deep end a few times. Amazingly, this did not result in spontaneous swimming skills. Quite the opposite - I became allergic to the water. However, near the end of high school, after years of avoiding the pool, I became fed up with myself and wanted to learn to swim. 

My childhood friend John Dillon was an all around athlete, and offered to meet me at the town pool in the early mornings, and teach me. Mentally, I prepared for gruelling water boarding torture. However, under JD’s patient guidance, I was swimming within no time at all. Seriously, within a few days. Something that had intimidated me for so long was suddenly doable, and I threw myself into it. By the time I lived near the North Sydney Pool, I was a decent swimmer. Doing laps a few times a week.

——————

Later, when living & working in Tokyo, swimming at a pool near Takadanobaba Station was part of my daily routine. A little swimming in the sea happened too. My girlfriend Shoko arranged a summer vacation in Shimoda, a popular beach town. I was amazed at the density of the crowds on the sand, as anxious lifeguards patrolled the shoreline, warily watching the equally crowded surf. 

I wanted to show people at home in Australia what a crowded beach really looked like, so we walked up to the heads to take a photo. As I did so, I saw some little children playing with kick-boards in the deep water below us. No sooner was I reminded of the time that I lost my kick-board at about the same age, when suddenly, one of the kids was caught in the backwash off the rocks. A wave stole her kick-board, and she went under. 

Nearby, people screamed in alarm, and Shoko urged them to run & tell the lifeguards, as I slid down the steep rock face and into the sea. The moment I hit the water, I regretted not first removing my shoes & clothes. Which instantly became waterlogged, and extraordinarily heavy. Thankfully I was swimming a lot in those days, in good shape, and reached the little girl within seconds. 

The next problem was how to get her out of the sea. The way I’d come was an almost vertical sheet of rock, so I headed for the shore. Holding her out of the water while swimming backwards, as I’d seen on TV shows & movies. About halfway, I was met by a lifeguard who took her off my hands, checked that I was OK, then struck out powerfully for the beach. 

I swam to an accessible spot on the rocks, where Shoko anxiously waited. The little girl’s dad approached, and thanked me profusely, in a jackhammer blur of rapid bowing. Then scurried away, red faced with embarrassment. Shoko thought that the family had been distracted from their kids by a drinking party. We’d seen several such jolly family gatherings on the sand..

It felt good to help that little girl, and does to this very day. I was grateful that my pal John had taught me to swim. Otherwise I couldn't have helped, and the lifeguard wouldn't have reached her in time from the beach. 

——————

A few years later, in San Francisco, I joined the Chinatown YMCA, and became a regular user of their pool. Swimming a mile 3 times a week after work. Or at lunchtime at a pool in the Mission District with a trio of coworkers (with office gossip on the drive to & from our swim). This was the period when I swam the most devotedly. Actually thinking about swimming, and looking forward to it. After much trial and error, I eventually figured out how to do proper tumble-turns. Allowing me to maintain a sustained rhythm without interruption.

The laps would be difficult at first. Awkward. Tiring. Eventually though, something interesting happened. A coordinated rhythm kicked in, seemingly automatically. Almost as if my body worked on its own. The hypnotising quality of hearing nothing but my own rhythmic breathing calmed me. I could focus intensely on this metronomic beat, like a mantra. Or let my mind wander, onto random thoughts, or the problems of the day. I’ve never meditated, but from hearing people talk about it, probably the closest I ever came was when engrossed in lap swimming.

Eventually in my late 30s, I stopped swimming due to shoulder trouble. A physical therapist explained that by not swimming any other stroke than the Australian Crawl, I’d caused a muscular imbalance. I should have mixed in backstroke and breaststroke, so that a variety of muscles were worked equally. So I did her exercises, and stopped the regular lap swimming. Replacing it with working out at the gym. Running on the treadmill had some similarities, but for me, nothing has quite replaced the mental clarity of lap swimming.

——————

Nowadays my body is an absolute mess of paralysed & palsied bits & pieces. My onboard gyroscope is busted, and I’m beset with twitching spasticity. Such that the synchronised elegance of swimming is beyond me. The coordination of even simple tasks takes extraordinary effort. Getting in and out of a bath is extremely awkward. Let alone entering a pool, and doing something so balletic as swimming. However, I do fantasise that someday I might head back to the pool for some physical therapy. Who knows, maybe even a spastic lap or two of Australian crawl..

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

CREEPY Steve

2024 is the 50th anniversary of Stephen King’s first published novel, CARRIE. The story of a bullied telekinetic teen, who gets blood-soaked payback at her prom. Since then, he's written 65 novels, 200 short stories, and 5 nonfiction books. A freakish feat, almost worthy of one of his supernatural characters.

King’s first published story was when he was 19 years old. He continued selling short stories after graduating from the University of Maine, and while teaching English at a public high school, all later collected in NIGHT SHIFT. He's averaged more than a book a year since 1974. Many of his novels were initially released under a pseudonym, lest their sheer number dilute his ‘brand’. I became aware of King via the early movie adaptations of his books. CARRIE, THE SHINING, and THE DEAD ZONE. A great introduction, as those early films were all good, whereas most adaptations of his work are terrible, sadly. 

During one of the Halloweens in the covid era, Julia & I got into a CREEPY STEVE frame of mind. Watching the better film adaptations, and listening to audiobooks. Those narrated by Will Patton were faves, as he really brings the characters to life. The Bill Hodges trilogy - Mr MERCEDES, FINDERS KEEPERS and END OF WATCH - were all marvellous, and introduced the wonderful character Holly Gibney. Who then appeared in further stories of her own. 

There are 10 Stephen King short story collections, and all that I’ve read contain several gems. JUST AFTER SUNSET has the terrifying (yet somehow hilarious) tale of a man trapped and left for dead in a capsized porta-potty. DIFFERENT SEASONS contains the stories that inspired THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION and STAND BY ME. Donald Sutherland starred in a great film entitled Mr HARRIGAN’S PHONE, taken from IF IT BLEEDS. Which also contains another great Holly Gibney story. 

ON WRITING: A MEMOIR OF THE CRAFT, is an engaging book, narrated by the author himself. Part memoir and part how-to instructional. Reminding me of William Goldman’s ADVENTURES IN THE SCREEN TRADE, in that it can’t truly deliver the secrets to making the magic that it promises, but serves up entertaining & revealing autobiographical anecdotes instead.

We are now used to seeing vampires in contemporary settings, so some of the 1970s impact of SALEM’S LOT has been lost. But both the book and its movie adaptation have many indelible images. Such as a vampire child hovering at the window.. (an inspiration for John Ajvide Lindqvist perhaps?)

After listening to book after book of King’s, and loving their brilliantly observed characters, and wonderful dialog, DARK TOWER was conspicuous for not having the elements that are normally intriguing in his books. Maybe I’ll give this series another shot someday, as friends swear it gets better. 

We read THE SHINING and its sequel, DOCTOR SLEEP, watching & enjoying both movie adaptations. King apparently despises Kubrick’s version of THE SHINING - "The book is hot, and the movie is cold; the book ends in fire, and the movie in ice. In the book, there's an actual arc where you see this guy, Jack Torrance, trying to be good, and little by little he moves over to this place where he's crazy. And as far as I was concerned, when I saw the movie, Jack was crazy from the first scene.” 

After reading the book, I understand King’s critiques, and agree with his second point. Jack Nicholson seems already about detonate on his drive to the hotel. Whereas King’s Jack was driven to madness by the malignant spirits within it. However, Kubrick’s film is so indelibly stamped into my mind, that I cannot unsee it. Nor unlike it neither (sorry, Stephen).

“Plot is, I think, the good writer’s last resort and the dullard’s first choice. The story which results from it is apt to feel artificial and labored.” - Stephen King.

I work in storytelling too, but in my biz it’s the dullard’s choice all the way - everything plotted & discussed, ad infinitum. King apparently starts with the merest idea, then writes straight ahead, surprising himself as he goes. A magician pulling a string of goodies out of his own head. At his best, this approach produces stories that feel naturalistic, with surprising twists and turns. 

At his worst, it can be rambling, meandering and self indulgent. Especially when he struggled with addiction. Apparently, King was so out of control in the late 1980s, that he was confronted by an intervention after finishing the TOMMYKNOCKERS manuscript. A pity then that the editor wasn’t given more latitude in tidying up that waffling mess before it went to print..

Stephen himself agrees - “I mean, The Tommyknockers is an awful book. That was the last one I wrote before I cleaned up my act. And I’ve thought about it a lot lately and said to myself, “There’s really a good book in here, underneath all the sort of spurious energy that cocaine provides, and I ought to go back.” The book is about 700 pages long, and I’m thinking, “There’s probably a good 350-page novel in there.”

We enjoyed the screen adaptations of IT, CHRISTINE, 1922, THE MIST, and 11.22.63. After soaking in worlds King has created, on page & screen, it became clear that the recent NETFLIX hit, STRANGER THINGS, is merely glorified Stephen King fan fiction. By the end of the pandemic, we’d chewed through many stories, yet only a mere fraction of The King Catalog. 

King is thought of as a master of the paranormal, but his real genius is for the everyday. Some of my favourites King stories are his straight crime fiction, or stories about real life. Even his famous horror stories are grounded by settings in relatable blue collar situations.. The writer Peter Straub even compared King to Dickens: “Both are novelists of vast popularity and enormous bibliographies, both are beloved writers with a pronounced taste for the morbid and grotesque, both display a deep interest in the underclass."

How does a man who’s been a millionaire for decades, with a very recognisable face, keep an ear for dialog patterns of common folk? Does he wear a disguise, and lurk in truck stops, diners, dive bars, and greyhound bus stations, taking notes?

 “He's one of the first people to talk about real Americans and how they live, to capture real American dialogue in all its, like, foulmouthed grandeur... He has a deadly ear for the way people speak... …Surface-wise, King's work is a bit televisual, but there's really a lot going on." - David Foster Wallace

Lately, we’ve embarked on yet another quest to chip away at the KING oeuvre. Having already fallen in love with Bill Hodges & Holly Gibney, it was fun to watch the Mr MERCEDES TV series. Even though the filmmakers took liberties with the characterisations. Rather than the shy, smoking, middle aged, OCD woman of the novels, the TV Holly is a perky & cute 30 something. An autistic variation on the manic pixie dream girl trope. (sigh..)

Taken from a short story collection entitled EVERYTHING’S EVENTUAL, the gripping movie 1408, starring John Cusack & Samuel L. Jackson, is the creepy story of a skeptical paranormal investigator, whose cynicism is challenged by spending a harrowing night in an actual haunted hotel room.

In THINNER a selfish fat lawyer is cursed into anorexia by a gypsy. Entertaining, in 'the guy deserves everything he gets' manner of a parable from the Twighlight Zone. It seems to have inspired Sam Raimi's DRAG ME TO HELL.

GERALD’S GAME seemed like a story written on a bet, or an author’s exercise - “write a novel where the protagonist never leaves their bed for most of the story.” To me it felt like it might have worked better as a short story. When King fails (for me, anyway) it's when there hasn't been enough editing.

King has apparently said that PET SEMATARY was his book that scared him the most, and it is extremely creepy, but for me, MISERY was even more terrifying. I'd already seen the film, and Kathy Bates’ Oscar winning performance, but the book is even scarier somehow. There’s nothing paranormal about this story. There is utter horror, but it is the worst kind that there is - the twists & turns of the human mind.

Despite, or perhaps because of, King’s great popularity, literary critics long damned him with faint praise. In 2003, when he received the National Book Foundation’s ‘Medal of Distinguished Contribution to American Letters’, some became openly hostile:

"The decision to give the National Book Foundation's annual award for "distinguished contribution" to Stephen King is extraordinary, another low in the shocking process of dumbing down our cultural life… ..What he is is an immensely inadequate writer on a sentence-by-sentence, paragraph-by-paragraph, book-by-book basis." - Harold Bloom

Bloom is dead, so King gets the last word - “A lot of today's reviewers grew up reading my fiction. Most of the old critics who panned anything I wrote are either dead or retired".

In 1999, Stephen King was flattened by a vehicle while walking along a highway - "After the accident, I was totally incapable of writing. At first it was as if I'd never done this in my life. ...It was like starting over again from square one." As someone who was been flattened too (but in a very different way) one of the many inspiring things about King is how he recovered from that terrible accident, to do some of his very best work.

CREEPY STEVE is a one-man multimedia idea engine, keeping the publishing & Hollywood machines running. We are still enjoying poring through the King library (listening to THE INSTITUTE now) so if any of you have further recommendations, please let me know in the comments!

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

Universal Exports

This is supposed to be Sean Connery from the 1964 film GOLDFINGER (although I’ve accidentally drawn him wearing David Byrne’s too-big 1980s suit). The line-drawing was started back in September 2013, and since then I've reworked the drawing a few times, adding detail, and finally watercolouring it just this month. It was while drawing this sketch that I began thinking about watching the JAMES BOND movies when I was a child, leading to a blog post in October 2013.

GOLDFINGER’s tuxedoed Sean Connery smoking a ciggie in a night club is one of those iconic 1960s images, like Marlon Brando astride a motorbike was to the 1950s, or a rifle-toting cowboy John Wayne was to the 1940s.

When the BOND movies hit in the early 1960s, Britain had only just recovered from its postwar rationing and life among bombed-out WW2 ruins. Though a victor in WW2, Britain was left essentially bankrupt, and learned that it was not the power it once was. The 1960s BOND films (and the 1950s BOND books before them) took place in exotic locales that the average Briton wouldn’t afford to visit till the 1970s, and reassured them that although British influence appeared to have gone, secretly Britain still pulled the strings that made the world operate (and  secretly its cars were still cool, and secretly its gadgets actually worked).

Just as we now, with the advantage of hindsight, see 1950s Hollywood monster/alien invasion films as America processing its Cold War fears, the 1960s Bond films seem now to represent Britain grappling with diminished global political relevance and the sting of Empire gone forever.

The suave, elegant, and deadly BOND spanked a variety of anxiety-inducing types (conniving lefties, oily continentals, scary ladies, cat lovers, and judo dudes) while offering condescending help to the current world policeman, the USA. BOND’s relationship to Felix Leiter and the CIA is a variation on Sherlock Holmes’ relationship with Lestrade and Scotland Yard; the USA gets the credit but we know that Britain has really solved the case behind the scenes. (“Couldn’t have done it without ya, James”).

The British power fantasy in the BOND films caught on globally and played a part in the 1960s “British Invasion” of popular culture, ironically making Britain internationally relevant again via its own fantasies, compensations and yearnings. Though the political clout of Britain was reduced, its cultural clout was perhaps even stronger than before.

I’ve always had a fascination for Britain in the 1960s and its cultural icons of that era, and sometimes wonder whether deep in my subconscious there are submerged memories of that place & time. Although I was tiny when I was there (just over a year old when my parents and I returned to Australia) and have no conscious memories of my visit in the 1960s, the look and feel of 1960s Britain may have made an indelible impression on my young mind, who knows?

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Darkest Of Angels

The latest instalment in the MAD MAX series, FURIOSA, is not as inventive as its predecessor, FURY ROAD. There are few moments to match the kooky joy of seeing the DOOF WARRIOR thrashing his guitar made out of a bedpan, atop a truck full of Taiko drummers in this movie. But FURIOSA delivered, and not in the ways expected. It is dark. A post-nuclear Dickensian western. A harrowing tale of an orphan taken to the Wasteland workhouse. With no inheritance to save her day, she wants revenge. There's plenty of George Miller’s signature kinetic storytelling. This isn't mere mayhem, but a thoughtful meditation on war, revenge, grief, and hope, told in 5 chapters.

1: The Pole of Inaccessibility

“Do Not Look Away, You Mustn’t Look Away.”

The tale begins in the “Green Place”, an EDEN hidden in the Wasteland. Instead of an apple, a peach is plucked by a little girl - a much younger FURIOSA. For the first hour, the titular character is played by Alyla Browne, who gives an absolutely riveting performance. Many of the traumatic moments that will shape the character are dealt with by this incredible young actor. 

Furiosa is soon kidnapped by the motorbike crazies that populate the MAD MAX films. Unfortunately for the goons, Furiosa’s mum MARY JABASSA is a veritable fury, and relentlessly hunts them down. Played by Charlee Fraser, the character isn’t in the story for long but she absolutely fizzes with intensity while she’s on screen. Leaving a white hot afterglow that lasts for the rest of the film. Unfortunately, she is soon dealt with by the villain of the tale. 

When we first meet DEMENTUS, he is clothed in white robes, like a desert messiah in his tent. Hemsworth’s performance is one of the highlights of the film. Dementus has a rural Australian accent, and a speaking style reminiscent of earlier generations. This may be lost on anyone without a small town Australian grandfather, but for me it had a chilling effect. At once folksy, familiar and terrifying. Most of the quotable lines from this film are from Dementus. He’s a bad egg, but eminently watchable. A Long John Silver of the desert.

2: Lessons from the Wasteland

"Who's got the goods? The bollocks, the testes to ride with Dementus?! "

Anya Taylor-Joy was arresting, and did wonders with a largely non verbal role. She was a strange choice for the role though. Alyla Browne believably played a child version of Charlize Theron, but Anya Taylor-Joy’s distinctive features and slight frame aren’t going to look like Theron in 10-15 years time. 

When Charlize Theron’s FURIOSA spoke with a north American accent in FURY ROAD, I accepted it as possible in Miller’s Wasteland. After all, we’d already learned years ago that way out in the middle of the outback, you might meet... TINA TURNER. So yeah, that accent made sense in 2015. However, we now know that Furiosa’s parents and childhood accent were both Australian. Then, she somehow acquires a North American accent growing up in the Citadel. Surrounded by Aussie War Boys?

George Miller deservedly gets praise for his imaginative visual world building and storytelling, but sometimes his world doesn’t make ‘sense’. I know that these films are best taken as kinetic & operatic comic books, taking place in a mythic world. However, inconsistencies sometimes break the spell, popping me out of the movie watching experience, to ask real world questions. 

However, Tom Burke’s Aussie accent was flawless, and his turn as PRAETORIAN JACK was wonderful. A stoic character, with as many wounds and losses as any other wretch in this misbegotten landscape, but who hasn’t lost the ability to be humane.

3: The Stowaway

“Didja see that? How they fought for each other, this little army of two? Where were they going, so full of hope?”

Each MAD MAX film thus far took us to a completely new part of the Wasteland. FURIOSA too shows us a new location, the Green Place. Experienced for mere moments, before being hauled to locations we’d previously seen in FURY ROAD. 

Though shown 15-20 years earlier, they looked exactly the same. Instead of seeing The Citadel only partially built, ruled by a younger Immortan Joe (perhaps not yet needing his mask, but already showing the signs of physical frailties?) characters & locations look as they did in a movie set 15-20 years later.The only character who shows the passage of time is Furiosa herself. 

George Miller takes big swings with these MAD MAX films, but in completely different ways with each one. FURIOSA is back to a revenge story, which is where the series began, but with a completely different structure this time. Ending on a dialogue in the desert, instead of blow-the-hinges off action sequence. After the excitement of what came before, a verbal showdown in the desert was anticlimactic for some. ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, climaxing with jibber jabber instead of Leone’s gunfight. For me though, this ending (and Hemsworth’s speech) was one of the high points of the film.

The film has many images that stay with me - A time-lapse shot of a young tree growing from a discarded wig. A lizard eats flies buzzing around a skull in the desert, only to be crushed under a racing motorbike tire. Parasailing marauders attack a giant truck from the sky. The sadistically twisted villain wears a child’s teddy bear. Owned by a victim? Or his own children from long ago? What a grimly beautiful world this is.

4: Homeward

“There will always be war. But to get home, Furiosa fought the world.”

Some critics said FURIOSA was “an epic slice of myth-making”, while others called it “a joyless, pointless, pretentious and inartistic slog”. Generally though, critical response was effusive. 90% on Rotten Tomatoes with an 89% audience score. Interestingly, these action films are consistently rated higher by critics than by audiences:

FURIOSA: 90%/89% FURY ROAD: 97%/86%  BEYOND THUNDERDOME: 79%/49%  ROAD WARRIOR: 94%/86%  MAD MAX: 90%/70% 

Also interesting, is that FURIOSA’s audience score is the highest of all the 5 films. Stranger still is that this favourable response didn’t result in box office success.. There are many theories as to why this is so. Although some say that this is the best prequel ever, any prequel is by definition unnecessary. Perhaps those that focus on a sidekick character will have a harder time connecting with audiences. Especially if the franchise’s main character is a no show. (Likewise, SHORT ROUND: AN INDIANA JONES SAGA might tank at the box office too, if Indy only has a cameo of mere seconds.)

This gets to why an audience decides to go see a movie. Personally, I just needed to know that George Miller - a director I’ve followed since my teens - was making another movie. That’s it. I was already in line before I knew what it was about. But most people, even MAD MAX fans, lost interest when they heard the famous character wasn’t in it. Joe & Jane Public bond with actors and characters. Directors not so much.

5. Beyond Vengeance

“D’ya have it in ya to make it epic?”

Movies used to be cheap entertainment, that audiences could afford to take a chance on, but they are expensive nowadays. Especially with all the bells & whistles of IMAX and reserved seating. People have been burned so many times by gushing press luring them to lame movies, that positive reviews and ‘buzz’ are now simply assumed to be studio psyops. Flatly ignored. Instead, if it’s a film they are unsure of, many prefer to wait a few weeks and try movies at home, affordably. On the big screen TVs & sound systems bought during the pandemic.

Given FURIOSA’s poor box office, we may never get the 6th instalment in the MAD MAX saga; WASTELAND. Which makes me regret that George Miller hadn’t made that film before this one. FURIOSA isn’t my fave of the MAD MAX films, but ranks high in my personal list. A fantastic addition to this series, that deserved more success than it got, sadly. Seeing George Miller stretch himself, in this mythic world he has constructed over decades, is a true cinematic joy.

“To feel alive, we seek sensation — any sensation to wash away the cranky black sorrow!”

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

Fiction in LIFE

I’ve had some amazing experiences in my life. I’ve eaten guinea pig under crystal-clear Milky Way nights at high-altitude on Lake Titicaca. I walked on The Great Wall of China. But some of my most memorable moments were not even real. They were pure fiction. Books, films, & TV shows that gave me sorrow, surprise & excitement - fictional moments that have stayed with me as indelibly as if they were real events. As hilarious as it may be to admit that the 13 year old me probably felt more engagement from watching “STAR WARS” than with any real event of 1977, I suspect that I’m not unusual. Homo Sapiens is the story-telling animal, and fiction is a big part of any human life nowadays. 

Even before social media & the internet, TV & film, and long before the printing press, people enjoyed stories. Back when we average peasants were unable to read, people were likewise enthralled by storytellers, whether at the hearth, the tavern, the pulpit or the stage. However, when pre-literate people felt excitement, love, or horror it was mostly from primary sources. From a life actually lived. They were not so immersed in fiction as we are today. 

Nowadays, fiction can now actually be more durable than reality. My memories of “RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK” may be sharper than my memories of long-ago actual visits to Machu Picchu, or bicycling through pagoda sunsets in Bagan. Simply because those real events from my own life can be never be re-experienced, but fictional events can be re-played simply by pressing a button. I could of course revisit Machu Picchu, but the crowded site of 2023 could not feel as in 1989, when it was empty. That particular moment continues only in the memories of the few who were there. 

As well as my years roaming the world & having real life adventures, I’ve also spent years doing the polar opposite, as a medical shut-in. When the scope of my actual world was severely limited, my life was enriched virtually by my access to streaming services. So I truly appreciate the life-saving power of fiction, and have thought a lot about its place in a real, lived human life. 

The human sensitivity to narrative enriches our lives, but leaves us vulnerable too. To manipulation - whether a spam email about a lost inheritance, a political grift about the ‘other’ coming to take your stuff, or someone you know trying to warp your perception of things - the con always begins with a story..

Do other social animals communicate with stories? Do Crows tell each-other legends? Do Dolphins lie to their pod-mates? Can Elephants spread gossip? Do Wolves boast? I’m not sure.. but it is certain that we humans carry a lot of narratives in our minds. We are the Fiction-Loving Animal. Constantly reinterpreting reality, with stories about others or ourselves, sometimes self-defeating. 

This is not to deride fiction itself. After all, I work in the story business - crafting ‘lies’ that will hopefully make people laugh, and feel, or think, and even question. Our ready access to fiction in the modern era can wonderfully broaden our human experience. We’ve all visited outer space, been terrified of creatures that don’t exist, & felt empathy over tragic events that never happened, and come to love (or loathe) non-existent people. Just as facts can be used selectively to lie, I believe that fiction can be used to expose truths. 

I love stories, and my life has been greatly enriched by art, in all its forms. A life devoid of art sounds horrible, but a life of only fiction would be empty too. The nutrition of human existence comes from living real experiences with real people. The art that moves us, does so because it has bottled that feeling, and was made by a human being who’d likewise experienced a lived-life. Fiction is one of the best inventions homo sapiens ever came up with, but must be balanced against living a REAL life. 

Originally published at: https://www.james-baker.com

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Passenger

My mother was extremely nervous when driving a car. On one memorable occasion, when I was around 3 (and Mum was 24) she drove us to see her friend in the suburbs of Hobart, while Dad was at work. In them bygone days of no seatbelts, when little kids sat in the front seat, I had a great view out the windscreen. As Mum drove onto a multi-lane ONE WAY road, going the wrong way. Into oncoming traffic. 

I clearly remember cars barrelling directly at us. Honking and swerving to both right and left. Poor Mum was distraught, as she just drove slowly down the road, until the next intersection. Where it was possible to turn out of the way of the hurtling traffic... 

My memory of childhood impressions of this event are completely at odds with my realisation, now as an adult, of the gravity of what happened. At the time, I thought it was all rather funny and exciting. Like being on a dodgem car ride at the fair. Or watching a madcap scene in a cartoon, or movie comedy. It would be years before I understood what death even was, and that Mum had narrowly swerved under the Grim Reaper’s scythe that day.

But at the time, with me giggling like a loon, Mum must have realised that I was not in tune with realities. I might cheerily pipe up with an account of the day's death-defying hell-ride to our next door neighbour. Or dish out the deadly details at dinnertime, when Dad came home. She made me promise not to tell anyone what had happened. 

I also remember sitting in the back seat of the family’s Toyota Corolla, while Dad gave Mum a driving lesson one weekend, in the vacant parking lot of the University of Tasmania. We were surrounded by open empty space on all sides as Mum kangaroo hopped forward at about 2 miles per hour. Sick with the fear that she’d kill us all.

Mum's tell when she was stressed was a "tut-tut" clicking of her tongue. Her anxiety was often contagious, and never more-so than when she was driving. Dad became agitated. Although a professional educator, he could be impatient when teaching his family. That fuelled Mum's agitation, which made Dad more irritable. That driving lesson was a feedback loop of irritation, tension, and anxiety.

Even as a child I was aware Mum was often anxious, but didn’t see my father that way. Only in adulthood did I realise that Dad was often nervous too, and that the nervousness of others compounded his own. Often, what appeared as anger, was actually Dad’s anxiety, cloaked in bluster. And a lot of swearing (which was a tell of Dad’s). 

One time, I was a passenger as Dad drove to drop off baby brother Alex at child-minding. Which required crossing the busiest road in town. As we pulled up to the intersection, Dad hunched, with his tongue between his teeth (another tell) when baby Alex chimed in from the back seat - “Oh, f∇<k!” I had to laugh, and Dad did too. Explaining that Alex had learned to associate that word with this particular intersection. Hearing the phrase at this exact same spot every single day. 

Long after she’d died, Dad & I were swapping memories of Mum. We both had a chuckle about the time Mum & Dad squabbled while driving through the Scottish highlands, and our car landed in a ditch by the side of the one-lane country road. We were very lucky that a car coming the other way was able to pull us out of trouble. Mum & Dad were both immediately sheepish in the aftermath.

I asked Dad if Mum had ever told him of her one-way misdirection when I was small. Dad was genuinely surprised. Despite being a chatterbox all my life, and especially when I was a wee boy, I kept that long ago promise to Mum. I didn’t tell anyone, until after she’d left us.

Passenger & Driver. Chillin'.

You might wonder if I’m a nervous driver too. The fact is that I’ve never driven. I’d just begun learning (getting my own cranky driving lessons from Dad) when Mum got sick. The focus for our family was elsewhere for the next year. Next, I was working in Sydney. Too broke to buy a car, I rode a bicycle instead. I was soon living abroad, in tangled Megapolises like Tokyo. Challenging places for a driver’s test, even if I could speak the language. When finally living in an English-speaking city, I’d been in the habit of not driving for so many years that it stuck. 

Besides, I’m descended from two worrywart nervous drivers. The world is a safer place without me behind the wheel. I’m frankly amazed that almost everyone else drives. 

Me, I’m a lifelong passenger. 

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

Ralph McQuarrie’s Battlestar Galactica concept art

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

BACK TO THE FUTURE: the animated series

I was working at Disney France when John Hays contacted me, looking for an overseas supervisor for a Saturday Morning cartoon that he'd be directing for Colossal Pictures. I’d done such things before. What interested me about this particular gig was that John wanted the supervisor to firstly work as part of the pre-production team at Colossal. I absolutely loved that idea. So headed to San Francisco to work on the BACK TO THE FUTURE cartoon.

I’d been introduced to John by mutual pal Tony Stacchi while backpacking in the USA a few years earlier. When Colossal diversified from special effects & TV commercials into longer form animation, John remembered me. Thinking my experience in Saturday Morning animation would fit with this new project, that both he & Phil Robinson would direct.. 

The crew had not fully assembled when I arrived in San Francisco. In fact, it was so early in production that even the look of the show had not yet been locked down. Many freelance artists, including Steve Purcell & Dave Fiess, plus Colossal staffers had a crack at design proposals, and I had a go too. 

Colossal had acquired a new building for long form production, but it was still being refit. So, a few of us worked in a cold drafty room at Colossal’s 3rd street building. As the crew expanded, we were housed in a cramped annex in their Custer Street sound stage. Until we finally moved into the facility on 15th street. (That building would eventually host the entire Colossal animation department).

When some designs of mine were selected for the main characters, the plan for me to supervise production in Taiwan was modified. Instead, I became one of two art director/character designers on the series. The mighty John Stevenson being the other. 

There was such a back & forth between Colossal & Universal over the main characters (even the actors got involved) that it was hard to do anything truly unique (although I was happy with how Doc Brown turned out). But we definitely had fun on the secondary character designs. 

Private Stevenson & Private Baker..

John & I both worked on designs for the first episode together, then took it in turns thereafter. I designed characters on even-numbered episodes, and John designed for odd-numbered episodes. We both sat side by side, cracking each other up with sillier & sillier designs. Joyfully competing as the series progressed. (In my opinion, John utterly killed it with his designs for his ROMAN episode..)

Directors John Hays & Phil Robinson really assembled a mighty crew for this series. Dave Gordon & Richard Moore did the BG styling, with Dave doing a lot of great VisDev too. Robin Steele, and future Pixar heavyweights Bud Luckey, & Joe Ranft did the storyboards. Two more future Pixar legends, Bob Pauley & Bill Cone, led much of the layout & location design. Future LucasFilm directors Bosco Ng, & Steward Lee were stalwarts of the art department. Colour styling was by future CNN design director Dewey Reid, and John Pomeroy animated the title sequence! 

After years of living & working in countries where I struggled to learn the language, it was great to finally be in a city where I could actually socialise. I was very lucky to be working with utterly inspiring artists. We often worked late, as we were all excited to be working together.

The pre-pro team was enthusiastic and worked hard, with high hopes for the show. However, by this point in my career I had a pretty good idea of how the Saturday Morning sausage was made. Having worked in the bowels of the sausage factory myself for 10 years by that point. I was hopeful, but also knew that it was anybody’s guess if the show would get the same care at the other end..

A show about a kooky scientist, his young buddy and a time machine had the potential to be absolutely great. The best of Doctor Who and a (family friendly) Rick & Morty. But stories that went to a new time zone each week needed a lot of design. I kept hoping that the scripts would contain less characters & locations. So that we could really refine the model packets. But every script contained tons of NEW characters & locations. Plus new outfits/gear for the main characters too. SIGH..

We'd been promised the 'top floor' animators at Taiwan's Cuckoo's Nest studio, but "Uh oh.." early footage made it clear that we'd gotten the basement crew instead.. "DOH!" Back when I'd supervised outsourcing myself, I learned that if the good artists are already assigned to another project there wasn’t much you could do. So, despite an absolutely stellar design & storyboard team, and early optimism, the show itself came out merely 'OK'. It ran for two seasons on CBS.

It has been one of the counter intuitive aspects of my career that sometimes the fave projects are NOT the best projects.. Despite being merely a footnote in animation history, this was absolutely a linchpin project in my own career, and I have fond memories of it to this day. Many great opportunities that came later were thanks to this show. I met many wonderful artists, who became lifelong friends, who I still work with and/or socialise with, decades later. On this project, I fell in love with San Francisco. And, after living out of a backpack for years, made this kooky town my home. I’d later go on staff at Colossal Pictures, which became my favourite studio I ever worked at. Where I finally escaped from Saturday Morning cartoons, into TV commercials and other more challenging projects.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]