Skip to main content

The Return of the Flying Scotsman

On Friday night I went to the cinema and saw T2: Trainspotting with a mate. I loved it; for my money it's a wonderful film. Albeit one with a terrible name. I put it to you my alternative title is better... Ish.

I went to see the original in the cinema. Like pretty much anyone of my generation I had the mandatory orange posters plastered on my walls. I read the book multiple times. I had the video, the VHS cassette (I'm that old). Hell, I had the green special edition VHS with the deleted scenes. (Which was probably only released because at that time the marketing men realised they could slap Trainspotting on *anything* and make some money.) If I was going out for a night I watched Trainspotting with a drink in my hand before I headed out. It was part of the vague rituals of my life.

The film meant a lot to me. It's hard to express just why; excessive exposure has tattooed it into my mind. Part of it may be that the characters feel real. I have the same reaction to the Before Sunrise / Before Sunset characters Jesse and Celine and they're quite different but equally distinct.

I had some trepidation knowing that they were making a sequel to Trainspotting. Sequels usually fail to honour the original. But I've got a lot of time for Danny Boyle and I thought it could work out. In Danny We Trust. Rightly so.

It's not the same sort of film as the original. The nominal plot is not what the film is about (which is as well as the plot is fairly unedifying). The film is about getting older. Aging. How do you feel about how your life has turned out? How do you feel about the relationships in your life? Your family? Your friends. How are you doing?

It got me at a gut level. I have a feeling I responded to it so much because I'm not the same age as the me that originally imbibed this. Time has passed. I see these faces up on the screen and in the same way they've got creases in their faces and lines around their eyes, so do I. George Orwell said: "at 50, everyone has the face he deserves". The idea being that by the time you reach that age the movements of your face, the smiles and the frowns will have become etched in stone. Recorded in your skin as the permanent expression of the memory of a million emotions. So get smiling or I'll know you haven't been.

The characters, those that survived the original, are all back and you believe it's them. It's not some actors turning up for a paycheck; it's totally them. It's Mark Renton, Sick Boy, Spud and the supremely terrifying Begbie. The latter member is, somehow, one of the most fear inducing characters committed to celluloid. At any given moment he could do *anything*. You have absolutely no idea what he will do. Then he does it.

If you had any time for the original I think you should take a look at this. It's wonderful. It's hideous and filthy in large part and yet it is fulfilling and somehow... Elegiac. The best part for me is what happens to Spud. I won't spoil it - but there's a great idea that is used for his character. It's beautiful; it's right.

Oh and lest I forget; the soundtrack *rocks*. Just who are Wolf Alice? Never heard of them before but I think I've listened to Silk a thousand times now. So good. So good.

PS I'm a member of the Church of Wittertainment (Hello to Jason Isaacs) and I'm with Mark Kermode on this

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Be ye here

Working out where to go on holiday has always seemed like slightly hard work. How do you choose? Do we go to Italy? We've been before. Do we go to France? They'll only want us to wear Speedos at the swimming pool. So where shall we go? We were delighted when we discovered a friend in Belfast, who had recently had a baby, would be up for a visit. A mutual friend of ours, was also planning a trip back to Ireland from where he lives. We've known each other for 25 years now, and have travelled before as a group. Why not get the band back together and spend some time in Ireland this summer? That was the thought, and so the Reilly family made plans. Passage was booked on the Liverpool to Belfast ferry. Grandma Reilly kindly leant her car to the Twickenham Reillys, so that myself, Lisette and the boys could roll Northwards and over the Irish Sea to Ireland. We were leaving an English summer that was that rarest of things: warm and sunny. The week before we'd left, Twicke...

Cable Cars and Credit Cards

I proferred the binbag. "All the rubbish; in here please". Conor turned to his right, "Una, will you climb in now?" Una grinned and mimed throwing objects into the sack. "There's my hopes and dreams right there Conor." Conor, Una, Lisette and I have known each other for half our lives. Well; Conor's not quite there - he's the elder statesman of our group. We met when we were working for British Airways as students, and living in Hounslow's finest dodgy digs. Since that time we've been scattered to the four winds; Una to Ireland, Conor to Switzerland. Lisette and I, well, maybe 3 miles tops to Twickenham. In seeking a mutual meeting place we found ourselves reaching for the logistically logical location: Italy. (I know; like a stepladder where you least expect it.) In keeping with how we first got to know one another, luxury accomodation was not our priority. We decided to camp. Can there be a fuller way to challenge your fear of...

Father's Day Advice

When I was 16 years old, my father gave me a piece of advice that dramatically changed me. His advice changed my interactions with the world. I rather doubt he thought it would have such impact, but change me it did. Having finished my mandatory schooling, I had recently started attending sixth form college. I was taking A-levels in Maths, Computer Science and Economics. I found I took to the former 2 subjects like a duck to water. They weren't a struggle, they were interesting and I had a natural aptitude. For want of a better phrase, I could "do it". However, Economics was a different kettle of fish. It did not fit in my head. I could not grok it. I sat there, in lesson after lesson, listening hard to Terri Wilcox explaining Keynes, Monetarism, supply and demand. Occasionally she deviated and talked about her beloved Blackburn Rovers. It did not go in. Not the Economics and certainly not the football. At the end of each sentence uttered I found myself more bewilder...