Thursday, 14 December 2017

On Patronage

http://patreon.com/HowardDavidIngham
For about a year and a half now, I've benefitted from the modest support of a profile on Patreon. I'm glad it's there. For one, without my Patreon backers, I couldn't have reviewed quite as many films as I have. Last week, Patreon decided to ramp up its fees for contributors. The result of that was that many, many supporters across the board jumped ship, so much so that Patreon reversed the decision. But it didn't bring the supporters back. As a creator with only a modest support and a Patreon I've neglected, I decided that it was time to start figuring out how to improve things. So from now on, patrons get to see my writing posts before anyone else, and I'm asking support for the work I've done rather than a general monthly subscription (so think of it as a regular tip jar that keeps my work going), which means that in quiet months, I won't ask for so much cash. The new model begins with the next post I do, and if you're supporting me already and you're thinking, this isn't what I signed up for, that's OK, there's no rancour involved. 

If you don't want to support me financially (even if it's just the occasional quid), that's OK too. I'm going to post everything here eventually – just, after the patrons see it. It'll encourage me to be more circumspect with my work anyway, and more careful about saving it.

If you can spare a few quid every so often, please feel free to help me out. But even if you can't, thanks for coming here. My blog's readership has grown from me knowing the names of everyone who read it back in 2015 to me seeing hundreds and occasionally thousands of people visiting.

And I'm grateful for every reader I have, every share, every bit of support I receive.

You can support my Patreon here, or via the button on the top of the web version of the page.

Edit: there's an early access post at the Patreon now, onPossession (1981). Start as you mean to go on, right?

Wednesday, 13 December 2017

Come, They Told Me

Some things wound us, things so trivial to others. Wounds so deep and so abiding. Some things open them up. This is the worst time for that.

Tuesday, 12 December 2017

We Don't Go Back #72: Photographing Fairies (1997)

I first saw Photographing Fairies during its brief cinematic release in 1997. I'd just graduated university, in that weightless time when I had decided never to go back to my old home town. I saw it on my 22nd birthday. My future wife was one of the people who came with me.

I don't know if it was the sort of film that you go to see with your mates on a birthday outing. But I think, even then, I knew it was the sort of film that I seemed to gravitate towards. I don't remember thinking it was the greatest thing I'd ever seen, but it haunted me, and looking at it now, I can see why.

It's a very theosophical film; my fractured, ambivalent relationship with theosophy has informed much of my writing over the years, and the film's own equally fractured and ambivalent relationship with the ideas of the movement resonated with me, I suppose.

Monday, 11 December 2017

Perplexed Music

Yesterday I was lucky enough, thanks to Jon Dear, to take advantage of an invitation to attend the premiere of Mark McGann's new short film Perplexed Music at the BFI's National Film Theatre 1. It was good to see Jon again (and to catch up with several friends who were also in attendance).

Thursday, 7 December 2017

SexOD 2.0

A friend asked me what happened to my essay on female-coded AIs, and of course it fell prey to my final purge of the posts about my departed alterego (RIP), but since she asked, I rewrote it. This is SexOD 2.0.

So. Let’s talk about fembots.

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

On a Thousand Walls #9: Dead Man's Shoes (2004)

(Most of my film posts contain spoilers. This one contains complete ruiners. You have been warned.)

Film genres are an arbitrary thing; their balkanisation isn't as intuitive as we think it is, and every so often a film comes along that proves how silly they are. Get Out has already won an award for Best Comedic Performance (this year's MTV awards, for LilRel Howery) and already people are struggling to categorise it – is it a horror, a thriller, a vicious social satire?

Shane Meadows' Dead Man's Shoes goes even beyond this: could it be a kitchen sink drama, Ken Loach-style? Is it a psychological revenge thriller? A slasher horror? It doesn't just defy these categories, it actively leans in to them. It's a haunting, gut-churning watch, tense and funny and desperately sad.

Thursday, 30 November 2017

Cult Cinema #9: The Invitation (2015)

(Finally I got my computer working again. Ever cloned a hybrid SSD/physical hard disc? It takes ages. But now? Now comes catchup.)

Sometimes the thing with cults is that they're hard to spot, initially. You might see the signs, but you doubt yourself. You doubt your perceptions, all the more when it's someone you know. A friend or a loved one or an ex is sort of different somehow, starts waxing lyrical about how happy they are and the newthing they've found, there's always that suspicion there in the back of your mind that there's something wrong with it, and then you dismiss it. You do. People find ways to get through life, you tell yourself. And they'll wax lyrical about what they've got, their religion or their self-help thing, or their diet, or their running (and oh God, runners). And then they'll try to convince you that you need it too. And this is awkward. And this is uneasy, and I think it's a bit uneasy because we see someone we knew or thought we knew and they're not the person we knew, not really, not anymore. Something's changed. They're in lockstep now, saying things that seem pat, rehearsed, talking in formulae. It's as if something's been crushed in them, some drive to self-determination that is gone now.

And the signifier of that is the way that our newly-converted acquaintance proselytises. Evangelism makes people uneasy. It's a social faux pas, and the very fact that people who we thought we trusted break the unspoken rules of conversation to push whatever idea has overtaken them on us, that makes alarm bells ring. It's worst of all when it's an ambush, when it becomes apparent that someone who we used to think had a genuine regard for us now engineers a meeting, a visit, or even a party for the sole reason of evangelising.

This happens. For exammple, UCCF, the organisation that controls evangelical Christian Unions in British universities, has actually in the past published material encouraging student members to do just that, to have parties for the sake of telling people just about Jesus. Looking back, it's how I can tell I was never really a proper evangelical, because the little switch in my brain that says "this is morally and ethially wrong" never got switched off. I never managed to do it. I couldn't. Although I've been at proselytising parties more than once, presumably because I was considered an ally of the host, and I can tell you they have been some of the most painfully awkward experiences of my life. Friendships have ended over these things. 

Karyn Kusama's 2015 film The Invitation deals with this exact phenomenon. It portrays an act of ambush evangelism; and it plays on that fear, that the converted friend might have given themselves over to something awful, and the doubt that it hasn't. When everyone else is saying, "Wait, they're a little weird, but honestly it's still them, isn't it?" do you still go with your gut or do you make a scene?