There's No Business

I saw an excellent film last night. It is called Glengarry Glen Ross and has the most fabulous cast – Jack Lemmon, Al Pacino , Kevin Spacey and others. The acting is the slickest I’ve seen in a long time, and the direction (James Foley) is as sharp as a shimmering blade. But what makes this film so exhilarating is that it’s an adapted stage play (written by David Mamet) and therefore we experience the intensity and power of the closed set and of course, the sheer concentration of the drama. Some people would complain about this – they would say that this makes it too claustrophobic for cinema – but in my view this doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because this film provides a glittering showcase both for dramatic structure and for the sheer quality of the writing. The three acts are as blatant as if the curtain had actually been lowered, and the way the characters move around is almost as if they were dissolving into the wings – exit stage left; enter stage right. Powerful stuff.

This was the beginning of my re-education into film. Because I’m basically a novelist at heart, I’ve tended to neglect film over the years in favour of the written word. This is strangely inappropriate when you think about it – after all, I do dissipate most of my time hanging around in a cinema. A short while ago someone came into my life who is not only an exponent of cinema, but is also an advocate of intrinsic dramatic structure. He was aghast – nay, shocked and dismayed - to discover the paucity of my knowledge on film, and has immediately sought to redress this by leading me through a dark and mysterious forest of cinemascopic detection.

So, armed with a stack of DVDs worthy of the Tower of Babel, and a big bag of crisps, we began. Glengarry Glen Ross was an electrifying introduction to what I’m expecting to be a long and yellow brick road of discovery.

On an entirely different point – I have to tell you that I was burgled the other evening. Yes, the thieves actually came into my apartment whilst I was sleeping, took all the whisky they could find, and when I woke up in the morning, all I was left with were the empty bottles! How outrageous is that? I find it bizarre that they didn’t steal anything of higher value. So, if you see someone staggering around looking drunk, it’s probably my burglar. Arrest that man!