And the cocaine rain didst come...
Snow.
A simple theme, perhaps, but fitting as today England was tucked up under a blanket of sparkling white.
Trekking across my local national trust park this afternoon- over 1000 acres of parkland- wrapped up in three tee shirts, a snazzy jumper, a big coat, hat, two pairs of gloves, three layers of sports socks and a trustworthy pair of wellington boots, I felt like Dennis Quaid in The Day After Tomorrow.
Standing on high ground and surveying the land, bucket sled in hand, there was not a soul in sight. A multi-national disaster could happen right now, I thought, and I would be none the wiser.
And then I happened across Knole House: monolithic Tudor residence. This would have been eerie. It should have been eerie. But what was wrong? Was it the cute little fawns skipping through the snow? No. Was it the reassuring sound of Tears For Fears blasting into my skull through my headphones? No.
It was a lorry arriving to remove the last evidence of the presence of a film crew. Hankies out, Deppomaniacs- Pirates of The Caribbean 4 has left town.
No, I don't want to talk about Pirates. I want to talk about Snow Movies.
There's almost something boring about productions filmed on location in Los Angeles. The biggest film industry in the world initially found it's footing on the west coast of the US not only for the money, but for the light, and as great and as convenient this is for exterior film production, blue skies and dry floors aren't too sympathetic a climate for the dramatic picture.
Perhaps it's my intense jealousy of Californians, who knows, but what I do know about filmmaking is that weather is a damn powerful cinematic tool.
In Do The Right Thing (Lee, 1989) Spike Lee uses "the hottest day of the year" in Brooklyn as a cauldron for racial tension.
In Glengarry, Glen Ross (Foley, 1992) real estate salesmen played by Jack Lemmon and about half of the A-list actors in Hollywood are under pressure while a rainstorm relentlessly batters the streets of New York.
In Rashomon (Kurosawa, 1950) a thunderstorm forces a priest, a woodcutter, and an anonymous man to take shelter under a ruined gatehouse, where they recount a tale of murder.
The Thing (John Carpenter, 1982)
Fargo (Joel and Ethan Coen, 1996) Apologies for the lame clip- all other versions are blocked on Youtube.
The Snowman (Jackson, Murakami, 1982)
The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980)
The Empire Strikes Back (George Lucas, 1980)
In Dumb and Dumber (Farrely, 1994), the snowscape chased by Harry and Lloyd represents "someplace warm. A place where the beer flows like wine. Where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. I'm talking about a little place called Aspen".
I'm yet to find a movie where snow is the killer itself.
If you know of any indie flicks featuring knife-wielding snowmen send me a message, then a DVD. I've got a million pound hug I could write a check for.
Today this has been my space to indulge my appreciation of white sky fluff.
My wellies are back on and so's that snazzy jumper. I'm going back outside.
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