Saturday, 18 August 2012


I want Mark Kermode's hair. Hell, ANY hair would be preferable to the gleaming dome I have been cursed with since my early twenties. That aside, I've had a blast reading his 2010 memoir of life as a film obsessive, and while I disagree with him on a bunch of stuff (which is healthy), I can't help but love the book to bits.

Of course, as a devout horror fan, the bits I found most thrilling were his encounters with Sam Raimi, Wes Craven and Linda Blair, but the whole book is more than worth a read for any serious film fan, or indeed genre addicts such as myself, and possibly you.

Told with a wry wit and the tendency to meander off on odd tangents, Kermode's loving chronicle of his many misadventures as a film critic is a delight from start to finish. Yeah, he can come across as a bit of a cock now and again, but that's part of being a film fan, isn't it? I know I can certainly come across as a bit of a cock, but Mark at least does it with style.

His lengthy account of a trip through Russia with his mate Nige and tour guide/keeper Yolena to visit the location shoot of the underground chiller Dark Waters is both hilarious and excruciating, and you really need to read the whole thing in order to help Mark deal with the horrors of putting up with “Mister Nyet” on a terrifying car journey.

Then there's the thing about Werner Herzog's trousers exploding. What more do you need to sell this to you? Buy it, read it, and bask in the knowledge that you're not the only awkward, babbling movie-addicted sad case out there. Cheers Mark, I needed that!

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