Room in Hell

Ack. This has not been, all told, one of the great weeks. Much of that is down to the usual ongoing bullshit, and some of it really doesn't bear going into, so, basically, I won't.

What does bear going into? Let's see.

No real news on the work front. There are, as ever, possibilities, hovering. In the short term, the company I just quit wants me to come back and do some contract work for them. I don't have the details, but chances are I'll do it because (a) it'll be easy and (b) it'll be familiar and (c) it'll be some handy short-term cash I don't have to make an effort to get to keep me going while I'm trying to find the stuff I do have to make an effort to get; have to sell myself for. HiScore already know I can do it and that they want me, and all I have to do is say yes. There's none of that prowling around one another and putting one's best foot forward and lily-gilding to go through, it's totally terra cognita, just sign on the dotted line, hack the code, take the readies.

This, of course, has been one of the main shaping forces of my career to date: the path of least resistance. People I know, people I've worked with before, people who recognize and accept both my shortcomings and my talents, offer me work, and it's hard to say no to that. Why face the shock of the new when you can let yourself wallow in the welcoming stagnation of the old? But after a few years you do find yourself looking back on a rather moribund and directionless working life.

Two separate agents contacted me the other day about a Flash contract that -- well, need I say more? My feelings on the subject of Flash are well documented here. And this was out of town to boot. The agent who contacted me by email said (and this is a verbatim quote):

Riiiiight. I should have called him up and said: "OK then, I'll do it for a cool million" -- I mean, that might be nearly sufficient recompense for 6 weeks ActionScripting in Chertsey -- but I don't have the front for a gag like that, and who, after all, would benefit from my being such a dick?

So I only talked to the agent who'd contacted me by telephone, and we quickly came to the conclusion that this probably wasn't the thing for me. But on further perusal of my CV she thought that perhaps [consumer electronics giant X] might be interested in whatever mysterious thing it is I have to offer, so now I have a questionnaire from [consumer electronics giant X] to fill out, and heaven only knows where that may lead (although my pessimistic side is willing to take a wild guess).

In the meantime, well, it's been a rough week, as I said, but not without its positive moments. On Monday the BBC showed Adam Simon's seminal horror documentary The American Nightmare, which I first saw with Ian at the London Film Festival back in 2000, and that prompted me to get off my arse and see the new Dawn of the Dead remake.

Given that the original was one of the key products of the US independent horror cycle of the 60s and 70s, the new one had its work cut out for it. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't really measure up. It's extremely violent and gory, but pretty much lets the whole consumerist satire of the original go by the wayside in favour of speed-zombies borrowed wholesale from 28 Days Later (itself largely a homage to the Romero and Carpenter movies that invented this survival horror genre, once radical, now the staple of any number of tedious, blood-drenched videogames). There are plenty of knowing nods to that 70s heyday, including cameos from stars of the original and make-up wiz Tom Savini, but ultimately it comes across as a schlocky splatter film with nothing to say.

It certainly never approaches the existential bleakness that George Romero sums up in The American Nightmare, when one of his characters asks "What the hell are they?"

Um. Did I say positive moments? Damn.
Posted by matt at April 12, 2004 12:31 AM