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Monday, May 21, 2007


I do miss life on the film set. Even with the 15+ hour days and the constant standing around; or having to suffer the self-centred superficiality of the Egos that abound. Hell, even freezing my tits off outside in the rain/mud/snow for 12 hours at a time didn’t stop me enjoying working on movies – and that’s nothing to do with my being a masochist from time to time (well, perhaps a little).

Over the years, alongside the brilliant camaraderie on the film set floor, I’ve also been privy to some obnoxious crap; shit that would make most people hate the industry and want to leave it immediately. Indeed, I had to spend some years getting used to biting my tongue and putting up with it – quite a challenge for me, it has to be said. I could moan about all these experiences on this blog, but because there’d be so much film-set gossip, grovelling and whinging (and not just my own) to disclose, I’d be posting indefinitely if I did – and I do have other stuff to be getting on with. (Quite a bit, as it goes.)

But right now I do feel compelled to briefly state what annoys me about movies – what really makes me loathe the entertainment industry and all the people in it – and that is when someone takes it upon themselves to royally fuck up a perfectly good idea by pretending their take on it is somehow new and original.

I’m talking about re-makes. Why, for fuck’s sake, did some clever prick feel that a fantastic film such as The Hitcher, needed to be remade for a Noughties audience? The original is one of my all-time favourites: it’s a thriller/horror classic. Pray tell me how this remake could be any better? I don’t give a damn if the script has been written by the original screenwriter: it was fine the first time around - don’t fucking touch the classics, OK?

And I’m sorry Sean Bean, great actor you might be, but you have nothing on Rutger Hauer, nothing. (Admittedly, my opinion may be slightly biased given that I worked with Rutger and found him to be a genuine, kind man, as well as a brilliant actor.) Plus, I once spent a lovely hour with Rutger inside his trailer – and, Sean darling, I haven’t yet seen the inside of yours, have I?

‘Course, I’d happily disclose what Rutger and I got up to in that Winnebago, but that would just ruin any anticipation for my next book…

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