Sunday, 11 August 2013

Genre Bashing

My love of film began at an early age during the days of local cinema flea-pits, mine was The Esoldo. Children could spend a Saturday morning enjoying a variety of cartoons and Famous Five-type adventures, that is if possible to hear above the din of excited screeches or see through a fog of penny-sweet wrappers.

It progressed to the MGM movie. Glorious technicolour fantasies that drew me in and then spat me out after every tear of excitement, sadness and laughter had been wrung from me.

During my late teens, Mad Max reignited the excitement again and I returned to a different type of cinema: huge with chandeliers and red plush seats but the odours were the same. Often, after long evenings of pure blockbuster spectacular, I would emerge from the cinema rotating doors having unintentionally taken on the mantle of one of the characters. It was only much later when I watched Woody Allen's 'Zelig' did I laugh at how easy it is to morph inwardly, although Woody did take things to extremes!

I love film, all genres. The one I choose to peruse during each viewing session depends entirely upon mood and not necessarily whats 'in.' It is the same with books. I can dip in and out of genres with no particular favourite.

Then, there's my own books, described as contemporary drama with humour and they too, often dip in and out of genres much like the day in the life of just about anybody. How many times do you morph during a typical day and don't realise it? How often are events only seen as humorous when time has distanced them enough to be able to look back at otherwise weird and disturbing memories and then see the ludicrous side?

My genre is evolving into something much darker and maybe, like those MGM movies, all the humour is being squeezed dry. BUT, after re-reading the first chapter of my third book (still in editing) I laughed out loud at the first experiences of a serial killer - weird or what?

So many films...