Time to Party

Back to the Future Day is finally here. Do you know what that means? People will finally stop posting memes with the wrong date. Also I’ve a decent excuse to write about what I consider to be the best film trilogy of all time.

Yeah, that’s right, forget Star Wars. It doesn’t have a dog called Einstein. Although Back to the Future does have Darth Vader…

Image copyright: Universal.

Yes, we are now in 2015, the year Marty travelled to from 1985, and whilst we have video phone calls, are working on hover boards, and did get a 3D version of Jaws, we still don’t have flying cars. We also, thanks to Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale retaining the rights, have yet to get a new reboot or sequel to the BTTF series, thus allowing the franchise’s legacy to remain untarnished.

Thank goodness they’ve kept their integrity because, despite being thirty years old, these great movies are still inspiring people today. The band McFly and rapper Doc Brown took their name from the protagonists, a Bizarro World version of the central duo is presented in Rick and Morty, and there 'it's your cousin, Marvin' has become a popular setup for jokes on Twitter. There is clearly a lot of lingering love for this franchise.

And yet the original was never guaranteed to be a success. I mean, consider the pitch – there’s a stereotypical bug-eyed wild haired mad scientist, horny teen hitting on her own son, and that most cheesy of tropes, saying the title within the film. If the makers had misjudged the tone, this could have been the best Worst B-Movie Ever. Instead the humour’s just right, the caricature’s restrained, and it’s a brilliant piece. Indeed, that first film is as close to perfect as possible.

"Seriously, this guy's one of our heroes? Uh, we'll pass." - What some exec thankfully didn't say.

Picture copyright: Universal

As a writer, I massively appreciate callbacks and satisfying payoffs. It’s why I like improv, detective stories, and stand up. It’s also why I’m such a huge fan of Back to the Future. As with the other screenplay I consider exceptional, A Bug’s Life, every line in the first in the trilogy serves a purpose. Each bit of dialogue is a joke, foreshadowing, or back reference.  There is not an inch of fat on that script. It really should be studied in schools.

If ever you wanted further proof of the series’ power, I need only offer its continued ability to thrill. As I enjoy the movies so much, I have seen them all multiple times (in fact, they were the first films I saw in 2012) and yet I still get excited at the tinkly twinkly score that hints that something magical is about to occur.

I experienced the epitome of this euphoria these cult classics inspire on Saturday 30^th September 2014. Secret Cinema, an events company that shows famous movies within extensive recreations of the sets, had set up 1950s Hill Valley in a shopping centre car park complete with an in-character cast lip-synching and mirroring their counterparts in the first film. We were encouraged to dress in accordance with the era; I essentially went as The Fonz.

Just about hidden from view: the not-so-195s camera.

As we sat in the town square during the screening, the car chases happened around us , Doc zip-wired down from the clock tower, and we whooped at the debut of the DeLorean. That was all well and nice, but the moment at which I was convinced of the movie’s power, the instance I truly celebrated, was an old-fashioned demonstration of good triumphing over evil, brains defeating brawn, George smacking Biff.

The tension before he felled him was palpable. For one of the few times that evening, my eyes were firmly on the stage and not the frames I’d seen so many times before. To see the rivals stand-off in 3D reinforced the significance of what was at stake. It is perhaps this scene, more than any across the series, hammers home how a single split-second decision can change the outcome of your life.

When the punch came, we cheered. My friend besides me actually stood up and applauded. We got such a rush. It didn’t matter that this showdown wasn’t new to us – we were pumped.

And that’s the sign of an incredible movie – you can revisit it endlessly and still be moved.

Happy BTTF Day everyone.  Remember, your future hasn’t been written yet, so make it a good one!

Happy Birthday Train

As of 11th October 205, there has been a Late Train running for five years. And no, it's not National Rail's fault. The blame goes entirely to James D Irwin. Or, as I call him, 'Irwin'. Never 'James'. It is always the full name or surname. Or that inebriate with the voice like a dirty phone call.

Said inebriate.

Let me clarify. The Late Train is in fact a comedy night. It is on once a month in Winchester at a pub called the Railway. It has now been running for five years.

Who cares?

I do. I did a lot of fun stuff at that night. It’s where I recorded a radio play, gave stand up a serious go, recieved my first heckle, first tried live improv… I also co-hosted the whole thing for two years.

From Autumn 2012 to Summer 2014, the Late Train was run by me and my double act partner, Dan. In between comedians, we did sketches, most of which involved Adam and Eve or Santa (but never Adam and Eve and Santa), and Dan occasionally did solo routines. Which led to odd scenes in which I’d introduce him after we'd already been onstage together for five minutes. It worked. Well, even if it didn’t, we were in charge so…

Two excellent comedians. And two guys who do an okay job of introducing them.

We inherited the night from James D Irwin, the night’s founder and our friend (despite one of us once describing him as ‘that inebriate with the voice like a dirty phone call’). He’d started it as a student comedy night to give himself some stage time in a town with no open mic, but the free show soon grew until it was attracting acts from afar (and I don’t mean Southampton).

It’s not hard to see why the Late Train got such a good reputation. The small room is intimate, its cosiness reinforced by the stage décor of a rug and a lamp-stand. It essentially looks like someone’s lounge. The bar and bathroom is downstairs so there’s no punters wondering around looking for a pint or a piss. The audience is generous. Everyone wants to be there. The acts have fun. Plus, if you really hate the show, the train station’s across the road.

Hence why the bar is called The Railway…

Not the usual stage set-up - this is for my radio recording. Also, look, rugs!

Of course the night’s never been perfect. Dan and I once found we’d have to share a mic. One night there was a persistent heckler who it transpires was a wannabe comic who thought he was helping. A few of the open mic acts were drunk. Which is why we don’t put our friends on anymore.

That’s a joke. The Late Train is a safe friendly place in which to give stuff a go so where better for mates and acquaintances to see if telling gags is their thing? Some had smashing debuts whilst others stuck to their day job, but at least they had the opportunity to give it a go in front of a forgiving crowd.

This picture is misleading. We'd get at least three times this many people in. 

And what a crowd. I don’t know if a quaint friendly town inherently produces quaint friendly people, but Winchester’s audiences were never less than lovely. The front row were always up for a Q&A. The magician who now hosts is never short of volunteers. It was always a pleasure to perform at the Late Train. I only gave it up because I moved to London.

But not before Dan moved to Bournemouth. He duly came in once a month to host a free show for no money before rushing out during the second half to catch a train home. If that’s not a sign of how much we love The Late Train, nothing is.

After we left, the host was recast as often as Spiderman. It went from a satirist to a musician to its current ringmaster, magician Wayne the Weird. He’s presenting the anniversary show on October 11^th. Do go – it is, was, and will be the best thing in town. Besides, what else would you be doing on a Sunday?