Classic Film Review: That Darn Cat! (1965)

That Darn Cat! stars Hayley Mills as Patti Randall, the owner of a cat called DC (Darn Cat, as named by her irritated father). DC comes home wearing a watch instead of a collar and Patti immediately thinks that it has something to do with the kidnap victim still missing after a robbery. Her sister Ingrid (Dorothy Provine) is sceptical but Patti takes it straight to the FBI where Agent Kelso (Dean Jones) is assigned to investigate. They decide to put DC under surveillance but Patti and Ingrid's prospective boyfriends (Tom Lowell and Roddy McDowall respectively) keep getting in the way. So does nosy neighbour Mrs MacDougall (Elsa Lanchester), who drives her husband (William Demarest) to distraction with her theories.

This is an hilarious Disney film. Mills has a good rapport with both Provine and Jones and, most especially, with the cats playing the role of DC. As the central character, he's quite fun to watch. None of this CGI rubbish, just some nice normal cats playing an extraordinary one.

There are some really funny scenes, mostly including the MacDougalls. Equally, Roddy McDowall storming the house with a shotgun and searching for the 'prowler' is very good. It pokes fun at FBI shadowing techniques which even a cat can see through and there's an excellent selection of scenes at the drive-in movie with Richard Deacon as the manager. There's also a small appearance by the wonderful Ed Wynn as a jeweller.

In a film so amusingly improbable, it was a surprise to find the kidnappers as realistic characters but Neville Brand and Frank Gorshin do very well on that score, adding a real sense of danger to proceedings. The conclusion, fittingly, involved DC as much as the chase did, wrapping things up nicely.

I really enjoyed this one. Quite a good comedy to while away an afternoon and enough eccentric characters to make anybody laugh.

Classic Film Review: Mr & Mrs Smith (1941)

Mr & Mrs Smith is technically a Hitchcock film but if you watch it solely because of that fact you'll be heartily disappointed. It's a comedy starring Carole Lombard and Robert Montgomery as Ann and David Smith, a warring couple married for three years who discover (separately) that their marriage is invalid due to a legal technicality. Despite their differences, Ann is certain that David will rush to propose so they can be 'properly' married. However, when he neglects to tell her, he sets in motion a chain of events that see him thrown out of his own home and desperate to get his wife back. Unfortunately, his friend and partner Jeff (Gene Raymond) sees this as the perfect opportunity to make a move on Ann, leaving David out in the cold.

Although the plot does dip in places, this is actually a very enjoyable film. Montgomery's performance as the leering but lovable David is perfect but, as always, I have a far greater admiration for Lombard in this one. She has one of the best sequences of the piece with Gene Raymond as they are first stuck on a parachute ride in the pouring rain then go back to Jeff's place to warm up. Jeff is teetotal but Ann pushes some alcohol on him to make him feel better. It's difficult to describe the scene but Raymond's hilarious in it.

Montgomery has his fair share of memorable scenes too, particularly in the restaurant where David goes on a double date because he knows Ann and Jeff are going to be there. After seeing that his date is not the type of woman to make Ann jealous, he decides to make believe he's with the woman on the other side of him by opening his mouth and pretending to talk whilst the stranger remains oblivious - for a while. There's also a gorgeous scene a little earlier when Ann is still thinking that David will propose but he's more interested in the fact the cat sat on their table refuses to eat the soup in front of it. And, before that, you get the delight of Ann shaving David - honestly don't miss that gorgeous little scene.

Perhaps my biggest gripe about this film is that the ending feels a little anti-climatic. Ann and Jeff have gone away only to find David there too. While this leads to some amusing moments, I think the actual final few minutes are drastically wrong. The ending to a romantic comedy is, of course, a foregone conclusion but I wish they'd made more of it.

However, on the whole I enjoyed Mr & Mrs Smith. This was Lombard's second to last film and really makes you long for what might have been: the energy she brings to the film would keep it going even if she didn't have the talent of Robert Montgomery on her arm.

Blogging NaNoWriMo 2011: At Night

I spent this weekend with a friend I haven't seen for too long (I'll swear here and now this relates to my mad November writing endeavour). We went to see The Vagina Monologues and I spent Saturday night on her very comfy sofa. She has a sixteen week-old kitten, though, who is a bit, well, mad. She was leaping around in the dark, bashing into walls and startling the very haughty and stately older cat (think Hyacinth Bucket in feline form). Every so often I would hear a bang then a hiss. The funniest part of proceedings was when I turned the light on to see why the kitten was so distressed and found her attached to a shoe insole which was flapping around and whacking her on the head every so often.

The point is, what goes on in and out of the house after your average human being goes to bed is usually a black spot. My novel is set in a laundrette where my protagonist works between the hours of ten at night and seven in the morning. What I have to be careful about before introducing customers is making certain I know why they choose to do their washing in the early hours of the morning rather than at customary times and why they haven't got their own washing machines. Here are my conclusions.

• Students - As a student I used to do my washing in the early hours of the morning. I have vivid memories of sitting on the floor of the laundry room in my block of flats and finishing off Middlemarch for a seminar the next week. How I expected that to keep me awake I'm not sure! Anyway, students generally keep more flexible hours and the likelihood of those living in private residences without proper washing facilities going to a late-night laundrette is not out of the realm of possibility. None of my major secondary characters are students but it's inferred they make up a large proportion of customers.
• Viv and Dot - Viv comes in once a week to wash her husband's overalls. She does have a washing machine of her own but just doesn't want to muddy up her own kitchen. Since she and Dot both work late shifts at a call centre their sleeping pattern accommodates their nocturnal visits to the laundrette. Dot tags along with Viv, mainly because she's slightly intimidated by her on occasion and wants to stay on good terms.
• Alan - He doesn't really come to the laundrette to do his washing. He did a few times to get away from his domineering wife but then he encountered Dot and fell madly in love - in his own special way. He coordinates his visits to fit with hers and brings a few shirts each time as a pretext.
• Ben - Here is another man who doesn't really need the services of the laundrette. He was enchanted by manager Shelley on a visit when his washing machine was broken and now patronises the place on a Saturday evening in order to manoeuvre his way into her life.
• Mavis - She was a character who came out of nowhere but I've got her pegged now. She brings all her washing in on a Tuesday evening in a trolley stolen from the local supermarket. She doesn't like people and she hates authority: she comes at the time she does in order to avoid all that rubbish. Also, she's a dangerous driver as far as the trolley is concerned and empty streets suit her purpose. She's an OAP who can't afford a washing machine of her own in the pokey flat in which she lives.

These are the conclusions I came to while listening to a kitten throwing itself down some stairs in the early hours of Sunday morning. I already knew it deep down but it's all concrete now. And, in case you're wondering, my word count's on target. I'm exactly where I'm meant to be at the moment. Let's hope that lasts!

Pet Names

To avoid any confusion, I'm talking about 'names for pets' in this post. Not 'pet names' such as 'snuggles', 'cuddles', 'arsenic', and 'bulldozer'. That's a whole different category and one that could make everyone feel rather nauseous. No, I've been thinking a lot lately about animal names and their relationship to fiction: how do you decide what to call your pets and, more importantly, how do characters?

So far in my novel drafts I've only included one pet. There's an excellent piece of advice in some book somewhere that warns writers not to include animals without an exceptional reason. They can be self-indulgent little things that do nothing apart from hold up your plot and, when you forget about them, can leave the reader wondering where the fluffy kitten is and whether you did actually leave it in the burning building. The cat in my novel serves a few purposes, or at least I believe she does. I may be being self-indulgent. But Meg gives my protagonist something to get up for in the morning, she gives her something to talk to, and she serves to illuminate aspects of character by her preference for certain characters over others. As a cat person, I have to say that a cat's opinion can occasionally sway me in something like that. Yes... I know.

But why the name Meg? Well, my protagonist found the cat as a stray and gave her a human name to make her part of her hitherto single-person family. The old saying goes that if you give a cat a human name it becomes more human in your eyes. Now, I don't know what our pet names say about us as a family.

My cat, who unfortunately died last week, was called Stalin. Her sister, who passed away a few months ago was called Vlad. These cats were originally my sister's but part of her agreement to get them dictated my mother should have a say in the names. And she was kind of into her history. I have to say, whereas Vlad was a softie, Stal lived up to her name on some occasions. But not as much as the first cat I remember - Beast. Now, she was a stray and a very violent scrappy cat. I was scratched more than I care to remember when I was younger by that darling. She had a particularly amusing game of hanging around on the kitchen country ready to leap onto the back of our poor, unsuspecting doggy. She was originally called (embarrassing moment coming up) Icolbit, because a child who shall remain nameless couldn't speak and wanted her to come over 'a little bit'. However, 'Beast' was a much more appropriate name for her.

We've had two dogs in my lifetime. Paddy, probably a whippet crossed with something it really shouldn't have been crossed with, was a rescue dog. The first day we got him he ran from the house into the middle of a busy road because he was scared. I'm not sure the car helped his fear much. However, one metal plate later and he was perfectly happy. He still shook at anything, even a raised voice, but he was the most docile, friendly dog you could encounter. When he died my mother was heartbroken, and made the decision to go check out a puppy next door to one of my aunts the very same day. So we ended up with Rosie, a Cairn crossed with a Westie... we think. She's highly excitable and we're currently having some problems with her because she misses Stalin terribly. Once Beast died she became attached to Vlad and when Vlad died she latched onto Stal. She's now lost and confused and thinks we're going to leave her every time we leave the dining room. Rosie was my name choice, and not for very pleasant reasons either. There was a stuck-up girl I hated at school, part of a set who loved the look of themselves in a mirror. Naming my dog after one of them seemed to be the ultimate revenge at the time. Ahem. I promise I have grown up since then.

We've had an array of animals in my family. Maud, a grey long-eared rabbit; Norman, a brown and white rat; Noel and Liam, my brother's budgies. Plus an assortment of mice, rabbits and fish whose names escape me. But, for the most part, they were all part of the family - that is, they were named as if they were part of the family.

I know that including pets in fiction should be avoided if they're just going to be an issue of cuteness and irritation to the reader. But think of Fang in the Harry Potter series: whenever Hagrid was in his hut I wanted to know where the dog was because he was a vivid character in my mind. He helped define Hagrid. Where would Count Fosco be in The Woman in White without his assortment of mice and birds? The attention he pays to them highlights a peculiar edge to his character. And, in the world of television, where would Martin Crane be without his dog, Eddie? Animals can help define and shape character as much as they can annoy the audience by their constant interruptions. The key as a writer is to know when you're indulging yourself and when you're indulging the requirements of the plot or scene.