Random Jottings

Wallander and the Muppets

Thought the title of this post might catch your attention, but it is not a ploy, am seriously writing about these subjects. I am currently watching Wallender, the Ken Branagh version.  Now I have watched the Swedish series of the Mankell books and thought they were excellent. Kurt was melancholy yes, he had a bleak outlook on life yes, but he also seemed to have a sense of humour which is conspicuously lacking in this series.   Last week Wallander had moved into a house with his lover and her son and the first thing they found was a dead body in the garden. Presumably turned up for the housewarming.   Fairly clear by the end of the episode that the relationship was doomed.  It seems they had been seeing each for some time and the break up came about pretty sharpish, but one assumes that when they had seen each before it was for dinner, the odd visit and outings and the full force of his misery had not been pointed in her direction.   She twigged pretty quick that the Nordic gloom 24/7 was not for her and at the start of this week's eppy he is Alone Again.

Started off promisingly as in comes the actor who was Sarah Lund's partner in The Killing, the TV producer in Borgen (cannot spell his name) and in the first five minutes we were driven along The Bridge. I can only assume this was deliberate to remind all us Scandinavian groupies that we were back in familiar territory.   I know this story and found it rather dour to read and rather confusing so not quite sure how they will deal with it.   Lots of long shots of Kurt wandering around looking portentous and gloomy, lots of grey and washed out green and I can already feel a desire to lie down with a stiff drink coming over me.

So while I sit here and try not to get too introspective and to take my mind off the fact that really Kenneth Branagh has no lips, I am writing about The Muppets and their latest movie which I watched this afternoon.  Kathryn had sent it as a gift from Oz with instructions I was to watch it and then pass it onto Helen and then Patrick (my ex). We all love the Muppets and when the children were small and we lived in our tiny flat in London, we would all sit down together at 7pm every Friday night to watch the Muppet Show, to groan at Fozzy Bear's awful jokes, wait for Miss Piggy to yell YAAAAH and handbag somebody, watch Animal on the drums, laugh at the Swedish Cook, and join in the chorus at the end of the show.  The guest stars who appeared on the show were HUGE and I mean huge names, I remember Julie Andrews appearing, Pierce Brosnan, Rudolf Nureyev, Tony Bennett - the list was endless.  It seemed a badge of honour to say you had appeared with the Muppets, sure they did not get paid much for it.

There was something rather innocent and joyful about them.  They were a family, a dysfunctional one perhaps, but they all supported each other and the cosy, backstage atmosphere was so warming and delightful that it was a joy to step into  their lives each week.   We all loved Kermit, but the Swedish Cook was a particular favourite of mine and always used to make me laugh.   So I found it touching that Kathryn should send me the DVD and tell me to watch it and pass it on.  She said she laughed and cried while in the cinema - she went on her own as she did not think anybody else would appreciate her feelings as she watched and I, too, sat here this afternoon with the same reaction. The Muppets are long disbanded, nobody is interested in them any more and they learn that their old theatre is due to be demolished by the Villain of the piece who has discovered an oil well beneath the theatre.   They all get together again to put on a special show to raise money to save it - wonderful moment when they track down Miss Piggy who is now the editor of Vogue in Paris, complete with Anna Wintour hairdo.

The movie is very much an homage to the Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney Let's Put a Show on in the Barn genre, with lots of homespun philosophy and singing and dancing in the streets and, indeed, within such a routine up pops Mickey Rooney himself. It is all charming and delightful and sweet and when the show starts with that magical opening "It's time to start the music, It's time to light the lights" and all the Muppets come out and dance I felt nostalgia sweep over me and then something else - the remembrance of the family all being together, curled up in a huddle on the sofa, the girls in their pyjamas all clean and smelling of talcum powder after their bath, and that lovely feeling that all was right in the world.

I found myself laughing and clapping as all the characters performed their old routines. At the end feeling they had failed to raise the money to save their beloved theatre and leaving and finding the street full of cheering and applauding people waving banners We Love the Muppets and So Glad you are back, I am not ashamed to say that I had a huge lump in my throat and then tears trickling down my cheeks. For me the Muppets reminded me of happy times when the children were tiny, days that will never come again, though now of course I have Florence and another baby soon to cuddle, and I am so glad this film was made.  It has proved hugely popular, I have yet to meet anybody who does not love the Muppets and have their own particular favourite and it is clear that everyone taking part was having a wonderful time and that the directors, the producers and all involved were loving every moment.

So many violent films are made these days, so much misery and unremitting bleakness and then along comes this one, so full of innocence, laughter and joy and it is totally and utterly heart warming.  I loved every single minute.

And now back to our Ken, who is looking even more miserable this week if that is possible.  He needs a Miss Piggy in his life....

The Troubled Man - Henning Mankell

The Troubled Man is the last book by this author featuring Kurt Wallander.  Mankell decided enough was enough and there would be no more.  I was very saddened to hear of this as I have become very fond of the melancholic, diffident Swedish detective with his angst and worries.   I have had the book for some time but saved it up as I knew once read that would be that and I finally gave in and read on Sunday.

Wallander's daughter Linda tells him she is pregnant by her live in lover, financier Hans von Enke and, after the birth of his granddaughter, Kurt accepts an invitation to dinner to meet Hans von Enke's parents, Hakan and his wife Louise.  Haken was a former commander in the Swedish navy and had been in command of both submarines and surface vessels that specialised in hunting down submarines. Later he attends Hakan von Enke's 75th birthday party and it is at this celebration that he tells Kurt of an incident that happened some 25 years earlier when he was in charge of hunting down a Russian submarine that was spying in Swedish waters.  All was ready to force the submarine to the surface when orders on high called it off and the vessel was allowed to escape.   No explanation was ever given and Hakan has spent years trying to solve this mystery until he was warned off and his career came to a halt.   Wallander realises during this conversation that Haken is afraid of something or someone and remembers this when a few weeks later, Haken vanishes after taking his daily walk.   No trace of him is found and then when his wife Louise also disappears a few days later and is found dead with secret Russian papers on her, the question is asked if they were spies or had been killed because they knew too much.

All very intriguing and fascinating and as Wallander investigates, at the instigation of Linda, he feels he is being drawn down a labyrinth of confusion and obfuscation.   At the back of his mind is the feeling that something is wrong, something is eluding him but he cannot pin it down.   This feeling of puzzlement and bafflement is linked to the fact that Kurt is finding he is getting more and more forgetful and is experiencing periods when he does not know where he is or what he is doing.

"Wallander stared at his revolver. A shudder ran down his spine...he recalled having cleaned his gun the previous evening, but then what happened?  He groped around in his memory. the gun had migrated from his kitchen table to Martinnsson's desk. But how it had got there, what had happened in between, he had no idea. He had no explanations, no excuses"

On first starting this book and knowing that Haken von Enke was worried and fearful about something that happened in his past, the reader assumes The Troubled Man is he, but I think it is Wallander who becomes increasingly frightened of his health and what is going to happen to him now that he is near retirement.   This is a thread that runs through the entire book and when he unearths the truth and finds how he has been deceived and manipulated he knows that nothing will happen. He can submit his report but is aware that a higher authority needs to investiate further and he thinks that this is unlikely.  "Nothing, he thought is certain. Nor the way in which these events are interpreted, nor what the rest of my life will be like".

I find when reading Mankell's books that the narrative style and flow is very even and balanced, no sharp, short sentences or any breaks.   The reader is gently taken along and after a while it is almost a soothing experience to read this author and this ebb and flow reflects the character of Kurt Wallander himself, it is almost hypnotic.   I have so enjoyed reading these books and sad that there will be no more.   Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was so tired of Sherlock Holmes he tipped him and Moriarty over the Reichenback Falls thinking that was the end of him, but was forced to give him a miraculous escape so angry were the public at his demise.   Though Mankell does not kill his detective off or have a dramatic ending, he makes it impossible for there to be any more about Wallander and I will admit to having a lump in my throat when I read the last page.

"Linda stayed for several hours. they talked until Klara woke up and with a broad smile on her face she ran over to Wallander.  Wallander suddenly felt terrified. His memory had deserted him again. He didn't know who the girl running towards him was. He knew he'd seen her before, but what her name was or what she was doing in his house he had no idea.

It was af if everything had fallen silent. As if all colours had faded away, and he all he was left with was black and white"

I think the word elegiac is the only way to describe this book. A thoughtful quiet read and well worth it.

Nordic Gloom

Take a look at the picture of all these book titles.  What do they have in common?  First of all, they are all Nordic/Finnish/Icelandic whatever, they are all detective stories  and the book jackets are all black and white and monochrome. Why?

OK we know that most people who live in the Scandinavian countries are gloomy and full angst and never laugh and never smile and all their policemen are guilt ridden/divorced/alcoholic/dreadful parents etc etc but we know that this cannot and is not true.  Yet most books of this genre are marketed as such.

Have been reading and watching Wallander over the last few months and he is indeed a melancholy individual, yet now and then his life is shot with happiness, usually when he and Linda are talking and he realises that he loves his daughter and there is something and someone in his life.   The Swedish TV version is downbeat, but is as nothing compared to the soul bearing and emotion wracked portrayal by Kenneth Branagh who does overdo it just a tad.

The Camilla Lackberg series, three so far and a new one out soon, are not quite so gloomy though there are some miserable souls portrayed in each title.  At least this author has given us Patrik who is young and hopeful and has a partner and a child and seems happy.  I hope it lasts and that something ghastly doesn't happen soon though as his partner's sister is in abusive relationship and seems to have offed her husband at the end of the last book, I don't hold out much hope.

Last week I was sent The Draining Lake by Arnuld Indridason and oh my goodness.  Detective Erlundur is not only divorced, overweight and lives on his own, but his ex-wife hates him, his son is an alcoholic and his daughter is a drug addict totally out of control and who attacked one of his colleagues in the previous title in this series.   I tell you this guy makes Wallander sound like a barrel of laughs.  Anyway, I ploughed through it but rapidly lost the will to live and I will tell you why. It was the chat, the talk, the way everyone addressed each other.  You think War and Peace is bad?  'Hello Alexi Alexovitch (or whatever) how are you today?  This is my friend Pavlov Pavlovitch and his sister Anna Pavlovitskaya and their friends Ivan Ivanovich and Sergei Sergeivitch'.  You get the drift.

Well The Drowning Lake is set in Iceland and a body is discovered in a lake and Erlunder Sveinsson is sent for from Jafnarfjordur. He arrives with his colleague, Elinborg (who is a woman and as well as being a detective has written a cookery book so we are told she is a cookery book writing detective...). They are then joined by Sigurdur Oli (this is the guy who was attacked by Erlunder Sveinsson's drug addict daughter by the way which all adds to the gaiety of the nation) and they don't call each other Fred or Jo or Lisa it is Hello Sirgurdur Oli - oh Hallo Erlunder Sveinsson and so forth.

Later on in the investigation Erlunder goes to interview a man called Haruldur who complains about a friend call Thordur. We are told that Haruldur likes to read poetry by Einar Benediktasson and so it goes on and on.   I was awaiting the arrival of Gandalf, Gollum and Boromir any second.

Now please don't think I am poking fun at names and places of other countries, well suppose I am really, but am not doing it to be sarcastic or unpleasant in any way, but it just makes reading Nordic books slightly difficult.  Once you get into them and you have sorted out the Isuldurs from the Egladurs then it is ok but for the first 50 pages of this book I hadn't the faintest idea what was going on.  In fact, the book is so incredibly boring and badly written, IMHO anyway, that I skipped great chunks and read the last few chapters which had an ending which defied belief and I threw the book across the room.

So just to repeat, the nomenclature of these books is up to the reader to sort out and I have done this with no difficulty at all until I read the Icelandic title and came to a grinding halt. I think this is because it was dire more than anything else, if I had really been taken with it I would probably have found it easier.  

My question is, no matter whether the detectives are English, American, Nordic, whatever, why are they such a miserable bunch of sods?  The only two I can think of who marry and are happy, eventually, are Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane and Roderick Alleyn and Agatha Troy, though both of them took years to persuade their wives to marry them. Probably knew the misery that was in store...

I long to read a series, or watch a series, where we have a detective who is not (a) a maverick (b) embittered (c) an alcholic (d) divorced (e) a bad parent (f) unshaven and (g) rude and bad tempered which is not unexpected if you are suffering from (a) to (f).  

A happy cheerful happily married contented run of the mill detective who solves crime with a smile on his lips and a song in his heart.  Good idea?

No you 're right, it wouldn't work.