Lessons in Noir from The Exorcist.

October is a big month for me. In news that will surprise no one - we do Halloween bigger than Christmas in the Pickup household. My love for horror’s only boundary is my complete inability to write it, but I love to read it, watch it, discuss it, absorb it. I talked briefly about learning from other genres when I wanted to gush over how much I loved Paul Tremblay’s Cabin at the End of the World, but I couldn’t get into the details I loved or why they mattered without giving spoilers for a book you definitely want to read (no, need to read).

October being what it is, this the unholiest of months, I get my yearly viewings of favorite horror movies in. I’ve written here about my love for The Exorcist (the film) and most people have heard me talk about my love for the novel. I only allow myself a single viewing a year because I never want to lose the excitement it brings me. As a fan, it’s fantastic. As a lover of practical effects in film, it’s a Bible (oh, irony), and as a writer, it has so much to give.

Friedkin and Blatty imagined it pro-Catholic, and apparently, so did the Church, as they allowed the use of Georgetown and their own priests for the film. I don’t know many Catholics that watch this film or read the book it was based on as sacrament - everyone I know loves it or hates it for what it is - a horror film.

But it’s more than that, too. Spoilers follow (but if you haven’t seen it in the last 45 years, are you really going to rush out to see it now?).

In both the book and the film, the relationship between the two priests, Fr. Merrin and Fr. Karras, serves as an emotional lynchpin in the story. Yes, Reagan’s mother Chris deals with intense and heartbreaking emotions through the story, but they are projected onto a character that, for the majority of the story, isn’t actually there. The reader/viewer has to accept at least the possibility that Reagan is possessed by a powerful demon for the story to make any sense at all. Chris plays the role of a mother trying to find help for her daughter, but we experience a mother who has lost her daughter and wants to get her back. Because the reader/viewer and the character are experiencing different things, we merely observe her emotional distress. But Merrin and Karras are friends. In the book more than the film, we see them enjoy each other’s company. We understand that their bond is deep and they have love for one another. 

When they go in together to fight this demon - despite their fears and doubts, the reader/viewer understands the gravity. In the scene above, we are witnessing a finality. The grief Karras feels is nothing like the grief Chris felt. Chris was terrified, holding pain for her daughter - but there was a way out. When Karras demands that the demon take him, it is his moment of giving up. His best friend is dead, and he realizes this battle can’t be won with faith or power, so he surrenders. Granted, his surrender makes the win possible.

Reagan is free of the demon, that means the good guys won.

Or does it? And that’s what I love about the relationship between the two priests. They feed each other’s doubts, they feed each other’s power. When one dies, the other chooses to follow immediately. They manage to complete their job - the girl is exorcised. But to win, both the men, and all their knowledge must die.

As a writer I can’t help but admire the emotional wreackage left by that “happy ending.” Karras has just flown into a rage and started beating what he knows is (at least) the body of a young girl. He has demanded possession by a demon, and committed suicide. All within seconds. The reader/viewer cannot breathe a sigh of relief and be happy for Reagan and Chris. We can only take that relief with a spoonful of all the horror and grief Karras and Merrin have left us with.

Tell me that’s not noir as fuck.

"32 Ways to Write A Story but only One Plot..."

By Russel D McLean

Nobody did small town noir like Jim Thompson. And that's something that screenwriter Dutch Southern and directors Simon and Zeke Hawkins are quick to remind us this dirty, messy and brilliantly atmospheric neo noir set in small town Texas.

Mystery nut Sue (she reads nearly everything from Thompson to Rex Stout and seems to have near perfect recall for every pulp on her shelf) is heading off for college with her boyfriend BJ's best friend, Bobby. BJ ain't too happy about this, despite his cheery, aw-shucks attitude, and what he does is arrange one final weekend for the trio funded by some money he got "by saving", or, as we know from the opening sequence, by stealing bundles of cash from a local hood. Of course none of this goes right and soon the hood knows who stole his money and what he does is get the trio to steal back the money from local gangster, Big Red.


The movie knows its roots. The story is nothing new - but then, as Thompson himself is quoted as saying, there are 32 ways to write a story but only one plot: nothing is as it seems - but what really counts here is atmosphere, and We Gotta Get Out of This Place has that in spades. The three young leads are spectacular. Their connection at the start is perfect, and the way things fall apart for them quickly becomes unsettlingly tense. This in particular evidenced by a woman in front of me at the cinema who was constantly ducking at every violent act. And while the film becomes a little rote towards the end (and perhaps ends with a slightly sunnier note than some noir fans might expect), its reminiscent in its energy of the Coen Brothers debut, Blood Simple. Except with a far more photogenic cast wit. The shots of Texas are spectacular, too, and those windfarms will stay in your mind a long time after you've left the cinema.

Its a shame movies like this get buried beneath the hype of larger movies with bigger budgets and less cohesiveness. I would much rather see more movies like this than a sequel to Olympus Has Fallen or yet another Adam Sandler comedy. Yes, the stakes are personal and relatively low, and no, its not a crowdpleaser - the violence and threats of violence will put many people off - but its solidly made, beautifully shot and absolutely absorbing. The more bad decisions these guys make the more you feel for them. In short, if its playing near you, and you like your noir and your neo-noir, you need to seek it out.

"Hey, you look like a fat man on a horse, Georgie!"

By Russel D McLean

Its been a while since I’ve talked movies, or at least movies that are new to me. And certainly, CUTTER’S WAY qualifies in that department. Despite being filmed in 1981, its one of those movies that appears to have gained cult status while utterly passing me by. And it’s only because the Dundee Contemporary Arts Cinema decided to show an old print that I ever even knew of its existence.

Which is a shame because CUTTER’S WAY – based on the novel CUTTER AND BONE by Newton Thornburg – is one of those movies I think should be rightly considered a classic of noir cinema rather than the cult curiosity it seems to have become.



It’s the story of two men – one a man drifting through life with no real plan or ambition, and the other an embittered, crippled veteran looking desperately for one last chance to play the hero – who become obsessed with finding a murderer after one of them is called as a potential witness even though he see nothing of importance to the police investigation.

The film itself unravels slowly, almost languorously, with long, slow shots and an air of understated realism that feels unusual in a film of its period. After all, the eighties were the beginnings of the big Blockbusters and the slam-bang summer movies, but CUTTER’S WAY is determined to take its sweet time in telling its story. Even the murder that kickstarts the plot seems relegated to the background of a shot; a barely in focus foot sticking from a rubbish bin that the audience barely notices, and that Jeff Bridges manages to ignore completely until the police come knocking on his door to pull him in as a potential witness.

That idea of the not-seen and the unnoticed plays throughout the film as our perceptions are constantly thwarted and played with. As Cutter and Bone begin to realise that they might have an idea who the murderer is, we begin to question their certainty, to ask ourself whether what we’re seeing is really what we’re seeing. Are we watching two men unravel a mystery? Or are we watching them play more and more into their own paranoid delusions, desperate for some excitement, some vindication to their lives? The idea of unreality, of delusion, is pressed even more into the mind by the strange, haunting musical riffs that play softly through the film, creating an otherworldly feel in a film that looks otherwise almost like a documentary.

By the end of the movie – with its brilliant final frame – you’ll be questioning what you saw, what was really happening during the movie. A lesser film would let us believe the narrative of Cutter himself; the crazy, conspiracy-fuelled narrative that leads to some very dark places. But this is no ordinary film, and CUTTER’S WAY constantly underscores what we might expect to happen. While it is clear from both John Heard and Jeff Bridges’ astounding performances that they believe what is happening, that they think they know the truth, we are forced to question their reliability until ultimately nothing is clear.

With Heard’s incredible performance at its centre, and Bridges providing a more than solid foil, CUTTER’S WAY is really a two man show; a noir version of the classic double act. Their relationship forms the world around them, and it is a strangely seductive world in its way.

If you haven’t seen CUTTER’S WAY, and if you want a movie that’s going to stay with you long after the credits have finished, leaving you with questions you’re not sure you want answers to, and memories of characters who will linger in your mind, then seek out CUTTER’S WAY. Trust me, you’re not going to be disappointed.

Film Review -1 Day

By Jay Stringer

I've been hearing about the film 1 DAY for some time now. On the surface, it pushes many of my buttons; It's set and filmed in the Midlands, uses local actors and deals with the gang warfare and gun culture that's gone ignore by the national media.

So controversial was the film that several cinema chains refused to show it in the Midlands. The filmmakers made claims of the police shutting down cinema's halfway through screenings and intimidating the chains into dropping the film. Whether that is the truth or guerrilla marketing doesn't really matter, all that matters is whether the film is any good.

I'll get to that.

I've talked before about my passion for bringing the region to some national attention. I could probably get where i want to be quicker by setting my stories in London or Glasgow, but that's not what i write for. There is a whole region that is being ignored, so i watched this film wanting it to be great. I'm also hungry for some filmmakers to make some real social films set in the region -and many other regions of Britain for that matter- and to use local talent as much as possible. There are problems there, a whole world that we're told doesn't exist in Britain.

I also like films that take risks, a film that tries something new is a film that is contributing to the language of cinema. 1 DAY certainly tries something new. It's a musical, a hip-hop crime drama, half the time showing an attempt at a gritty edged urban drama, half the time breaking out into backbeats and dance moves.

So if it pushes so many of my buttons, and takes a few interesting risks, does it work?

Not really. But I'm glad i watched it, and i think I'll watch it again.

the plot is fairly simple; Flash, a local drug dealer, has lost 500k of someone else's money. He's on the run from the angry owner of the cash, a rival gang and three woman who've mothered his children. In fact, the plot itself doesn't really have much life to it, it moves along far to predictably.

There is plenty here to like (if you're me, anyway.) It's filmed on location, and showcases many places i recognise. Seeing the aerial shots of the city reminds us that there are large and interesting cityscape's outside of London. The actors or all local, for better and for worse. Whilst it's nice to hear real regional accents instead of the ones that actors from elsewhere put on, there's also a lack of any real gravitas. Whilst the smaller parts in the film are given a flavour and a depth for being played by local people, it would have helped to have something a little extra in the leading roles. The leading man is fine, but the film doesn't protect him by hiding his rawness or his weaknesses.

I would say that if you're going to take the route of local casting for main roles, then the writing needs to be top notch to help balance things out. I think this would be my main criticism of the film; the writing is not strong enough. The songs are not as lyrically complex or insightful as hip hop can, and should, be and I've already mentioned the weak plotting. The dialogue is in bad need of an edit; much of it may well have been improvised by the inexperienced actors, but then this should be fixed and tightened in the edit. There is too much moralising, too many people having monologues on how tough life is in the game. Don't tell us, show us.

Aside from the problem of 'show don't tell,' the film also struggles with a lot of the things we've discussed on here; It rambles, it doesn't get to the point and it doesn't leave out the bits that people tend to skip.

But i don't want to sound so negative on a film that deserves a hell of a lot of credit for what it does get right. The directing is good; there are some nice visual touches and the right amount of restrained flair. The film looks like a million pounds, even if it cost half that amount. It's a very bold film, and one that is probably too ambitious. It falls short of that ambition, but I'd rather have a film like this on my shelf than any number of billion dollar Transformers Vs The Munchkins From Mars soulless epics.

In fact, many of the things I've identified as weaknesses add to the character of the film. It's rough around the edges, but i think I'll enjoy giving it another try.

"Nobody kills me until I say so..."

By Russel D McLean

Regular readers of DSD will know that I have a weakness for French crime films*, so it should come as little surprise that – having missed it during its all too brief appearance in Dundonian cinemas (in fact, did it appear at all?), I was down to me local video emporium to get grab a hot-on-the-shelf copy of Mesrine, France’s biggest movie(s) of last year. And yes, you’re right, I said movie(s) because his story is so big they had to split it into two hour chunks subtitled, Killer Instinct and Public Enemy Number One***. This was not the first time they had attempted to make a film of the man’s life, but I think it’s the version that has so far made the most impact.



Jacques Mesrine (pronounce it Meh-Reen; apparently even the French don’t always get it right) is a real-life French gangster whose career ran from the early sixties through to his death in 1979. His crime crossed borders and he served maximum security jail time not only in France but also in Canada. But even maximum security jail wasn’t enough to hold Mesrine, and he staged a series of spectacular escapes, going back at least once to try and rescue some of his fellow inmates.

I went into the first movie knowing little about Mesrine beyond his reputation as a criminal and found myself quickly dragged into the mind of a man whose very nature was that of the sociopath. What is fascinating about Mesrine, as portrayed here, is the way he constantly tries to justify himself. For every act of brutality is an odd act of kindness that almost makes you warm to him – Mesrine is played as charismatic and yet never once do you edge over into sympathy with him. For all his talk of being akin to Robin Hood, we know the dangerous man who stares out contemptuously from behind the charming façade.

Does any of this have to do with his experiences in Algiers prior to his return home and his involvement with organised crime? The movie implies this once or twice, flirting with the guilt in modern French film-making over what happened during the war with Algeria, but does not offer quick and easy answers. It lays out events in a matter of fact manner with little editorialising, allowing the viewer to do much of the work.

But don’t think that this is a slow burn movie experience. When Mesrine moves into action set-pieces – the hold ups that start the second part, or the incredible return after his first prison break in part one – the film-makers show their power with some incredible bursts of adrenaline. Even on the small screen, I was wincing and tensing up with each bullet wound, with every smash of metal, with every drop of blood. The direction is assured, here, and when you combine that assuredness with the chameleon-like nature of its star, you have something very special indeed.

Mesrine is an incredible movie. Hands down one of the best crime movies I’ve seen in a long time, helped by a central performance that is chilling, charismatic and ultimately doomed. Mesrine’s attempts to reconcile his true nature with the man he wishes he could be result in a strange empathy between character and viewer. When Mesrine publishes a “fictional” novel of his life and crimes, you can see the thin line he has to walk to maintain his own sanity and self image and despite everything, you feel you can perhaps understand something of what drives him. But never once do you feel sympathy. You come to know him too well for that.

Mesrine took the French box office by storm, and its easy to see why. This is powerful, confident and compelling film-making at its finest.


*they may also know that Dave White has an objection to subtitles**
**and unnecessary footnotes
*** Or, if you want to be exact about it, L'instinct de mort and L'ennemi public No. 1

"I'd almost forgotten what your eyes looked like. Still the same. Pissholes in the snow."

Michael Caine’s latest movie, Harry Brown, is, according to the man himself, about the kind of man that Jack Carter might have been if he survived to a ripe old age.



I have no idea whether the film is any good or not, but it has done is get me thinking about Get Carter, one of the best damn crime flicks you’re ever likely to watch. And more surprising because of Caine.

It’s easy to forget sometimes just how damn good Michael Caine is. He’s so recognisable for being himself and he’s done so many bad movies that when he comes back at you with an incredible performance, you just sit there open mouthed.

Get Carter is one of those performances. It is literally iconic. You watch Caine and you think, “That man is cool.” And he is. In the best sense of the word. There is no posing for Carter. He exists and he does what he does. He is the UK equivalent of a man like Parker in the way that Caine plays him. His eyes are ice-cold, his expression unchanging and his determination absolute. Nothing will stand in his way.

What brought home the absolute brilliance of Caine’s performance was going to see Get Carter on stage at the Fringe a couple of years back. It was a good show, but what was interesting was to see how the lead interpreted the character of Jack Carter. On stage, he was bluster and anger and sheer rage. This character was heading towards his own doom. He was out of control. He created his own troubles and you could see it in every move he made.

It was a great and affecting performance, but what works so well with Caine is that you just don’t know what he’s going to do next or how he’s going to react. He is unreadable. All you know is that you don’t want to be on the wrong side of him. Say the wrong thing and there will be no warning. He will strike back. Fast, deadly and brutal. Beneath that cool exterior, the rage that the stage projected is bubbling up and threatening to explode, but Caine’s Carter keeps it so reeled in that when it is unleashed, you – and those around Carter – are shocked and horrified.

But it is interesting to think about the different ways in which characters are interpreted – not just in film, but in the minds of readers – and how that affects their actions. The Carter on stage went through a very similar (with some minor variations) journey to the character of Carter on film. And yet the emphasis was very different. The conclusions drawn were different. The Carter on stage was a thug, a loudmouth, a man filled with anger. The Carter on film is a bastard, through and through, self centred and yet curiously indifferent to the world around him if it stays out of his way. Were it not for the fact that his family are affected by the machinations of local criminal elements, Carter would just shrug his shoulders and walk on his way. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, wouldn’t even notice them. There is a beautiful scene where a fella Carter knows has been beat to shit. Its Carter’s fault. Carter offers some money to the fella because, well, its in part Carter’s fault this happened. The fella moans about his girlfriend is coming down from Liverpool, and what’s she gonna think when she sees him like this?

Caine, dismissvely throw the money, says, “Here, go get yourself a course in Karate” and walks. He doesn’t care. He’s giving the guy money because its Carter’s fault and he knows you have to take responsibility. But in his cold heart, he truly does not give a shit.

Carter is one of my favourite on screen tough guys. Truly, he’s the real deal. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that Get Carter is probably one of the most perfect British crime movies ever made. Not a false step in there.

And one of the coolest opening themes you’ll ever hear:



PS – you’ll notice I didn’t mention the Stallone interpretation of this character. There’s a very good reason for that. But if you want me to explain it, you’ll just hear a lot of bad-tempered swear words…