I won’t be posting about HHG here even though I saw it this evening, simply because I will be writing about it and Dr. Who for the TLS tomorrow and need to think about my piece then. In the meantime, paratti saw it with me and will probably have lots to say. Briefly, I enjoyed it without being over the moon about it; it is another good version of the material without being significantly better than any of the others or especially inferior to them.
What did piss me off quite royally was the way that the security people confiscated several hundred mobile phones and kept us waiting in a potentially dangerously over-crowded foyer while they returned them. Way to make friends and influence people and I plan to speak to the Health and Safety people if it ever happens to me again. On the other hand, I had a useful moment of schmoozing that would never have happened otherwise.
John Brosnan died, apparently. He wasn’t a friend, little more than an acquaintance, but just one of the other professional writers about sf and sf film who have been around the scene as long as I have. He was a respected colleague who did good work and will be missed for reasons that are not just a matter of reminding us of our own mortality. I hope people will say the same about me.
The cool thing today was that I turned up at a press conference that had been cancelled, and I hadn’t heard because I hadn’t RSVPed, which serves me right. As a result, I was on a particular bus and overheard a woman telling some tourists about an art installation they should go to. Because I had a chunk of free time, I did just that.
‘Kuba’ is on one of the top floors of the now deserted New Oxford St sorting office, which is a cool place to wander around in its own right. On one floor, they’ve put in a cafe; further up there is a vast room with twentyfive or so television sets, each of them playing a repeating loop of a different interview with someone from Kuba, which is a reasonably notorious Istanbul slum. I watched one with a young student who had used ‘Notting Hill’ to understand his own breakup with someone from a different class, and another with a horrid young thug. I wish I had had more time to spare there, because it was fascinating – I will try and go back.
The interviews were glimpses of lives – what made them work, though, was the space and I suspect anything that let one wander around that space would have been given cool by the sheer fact. But hey! sometimes one shouldn’t analyze too closely.