Towel Day Editorial

Not entirely unhoopy frood Douglas Adams died on the 11th of May, 2001. And two weeks later, Towel Day was born.

For the few of you who might not know, every year on the 25th of May, Douglas Adams' sincerly, unashamedly, passionately adoring fans commemerate his seminal science fiction series, Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy, in which the importance of knowing where one’s towel is, is paramount. Hitchhiker’s was one of the first comedies and the first science fiction series I fell fanatically in love with. To briefly sum up, it features the sweet, dissatisfied Arthur Dent, his profoundly laid back companion, Ford Prefect (a humanoid from somewhere in the vicinity of Betealgeuse) and their swift departure from Earth upon its destruction. Ford had been a researcher for the titular guide when he was stranded on Earth and befriended by Arthur, who until the day his planet is blown up, has no idea that Ford isn't just "quirky".

I wasn’t a great sleeper, right up until my mid-teens and the fact that Hitchhiker’s Guide started off with two phenomenal series on radio, meant that instead of lying awake, waiting for the clown from IT to devour my soul like a fucking Ring Wraith, I could soak up ingenious dialogue, characters and ideas to the extent that as an adult, I probably know that series line for line, inflection for inflection. I could say that about all my favourite comedies, but Hitchhiker's was the first.  It was also something I shared and indeed still do share with my Father. I can think of so many conversations, on road trips that have essentially blurred into each other, where we've discussed the concepts, characters and one-liners in intricate detail. I think if you're a fan of anything, you can probably remember conversations like this, where you kind of educate yourself in expressing your passion and figuring out why you love something so damn much in the first place.

The idea of an encyclopaedia of the universe narrating a science fiction story is a wonderful and original idea, but without great central characters laying the foundation, there would only be the great hook to draw you back into that universe. Hitchhiker’s is blessed with three great central characters and a great supporting cast. It is a shame however that Trillian, the main female role, is nothing juicier and more fun for both the audience and presumably the actor than just beautiful and brilliant. The rest of the characters are profoundly and wonderfully flawed and though I applaud Adams for writing this woman as a stellar scientific mind, she falls short of compelling.

Arthur is a wonderful creation - fundamentally British and at once hopelessly and stubbornly attached to the simplicity of his existence and silently dissatisfied. Silently because, well why make a fuss? But his peaceful existance is shattered by a beaurocrat’s apparent need to bulldoze his home, and an equally beaurocratic extras terrestrial's to bulldoze his planet and everything he has clung to is ripped away. Arthur is forced gradually throughout the series to embace adventure, fear and the unknown. The point, ultimately, is that we are all Arthur and would all be Arthur if asked to sacrifice our planet in favour of hitchhiking the galaxy.

Arthur's most constant companion adopted his title on Earth, after mistaking a car for the dominant life force. Ford is drily collected and rarely seems to exist in the real world.  He is also utterly matter of fact about Athur losing his planet because, having travelled as extensively throughout the universe as he has, his method of dealing with grief is to “get blind drunk” about it later. His willingness to readily accept loss and destruction are, I suppose, what make him alien, but his love for Arthur and the pain he masks (and this is really subtle - you'd have to be a fanatic such as myself to read that into his character) are what make him human. The non human characters are all written with this level of care, all with a sliver of eccentricity, just enough for you to know they're not quite like us, but with all our inherent insecurities and equally fucked up.

The character that epitomises this the most is Zaphod Beeblebrox, a character who should be a psychiatrists wet dream, but whose own's pitiful diagnosis is "well, Zaphod's just this guy, you know". I’m not entirely sure whether this was a "thing" at the time of writing, or a charcater trait that just seemed to fit, but the alien characters were all written with a kind of hipster, beatnick turn of phrase, universally approaching life like a party. If this is the case, Zaphod is the exemplification of that ethos, a three-headed personification of charisma and confidence and knows this beyond a shadow of doubt. His self-adoration makes him a wonderful foil for Arthur and his dialogue is peppered with zingers such as when an adoring fan tells him he should be in pictures, to which he cooly replies “yeah and you should be in real life.” It would be expected in any of character of this type to come with a heavy dose of deep seated insecurity. But what makes Zaphod fascinating is that it exists at all, it's so buried under all that charm, that when entering the "total perspective vortax", he leaves seemingly unscathed.

I could regail you with the minutia of the series, as well as observations I've made over the years, such as the series commentary on English reppression, power, religion and the nature of the universe, but I really, really hope that if you haven't already, you seek out the radio series, books, tv show (give the film a miss...) for yourselves and draw your own conclusions, which you inevitably will.
Douglas Adams was sadly only 49 when he was taken. He also wrote for Doctor Who and detective series Dirk Gently. In his 49 years on Earth, he accomplished more than most. He created art that will continue to inspire for years to come, but also sought and obtained the answer to the ultimate question.

The question of life, the universe and everything...

It was 42.

The Ricky Gervais Show.

 The Pitch – Ricky Gervais and podcast compatriots Steve Merchant and Karl Pilkington, as animated characters, narrating both their own existences and (mostly Karl’s) bizarre musings on Life, The Universe and Everything. The gestation of this, not entirely original concept, came from Gervais’ growing awareness that fans of his ground-breaking podcast were setting their pointless conversations to animation – often nothing sophisticated, but nevertheless very funny. It’s encouraging to see the internet acknowledged as a breeding ground of innovative ideas like this. One very good example of a similar set-up online is the extremely popular Spill.com  - as a film buff, I worship at their altar.

Gervais,  Merchant and Pilkington’s exploits are ideally suited to the form, the trio being both very good storytellers and not remotely precious about the whole affair. They do engage in weighty topics, such as science, homelessness and sexuality, but more through the lens of the odd instances that have peppered their lives. Karl, the unconventional thinker and real star of the show, frequently tells stories, wherein he coasts through life puzzled by perceived inconsistencies that most of us would struggle to appreciate. Inconsistencies such as why certain animals, that appear to him to serve no purpose aren’t “got rid of” to make room for more useful animals (some, such as insect-human hybrids, are of his own design…) He, along with the equally funny, and somewhat more on- planet-earth Gervais and Merchant, also recounts strange anecdotes and frustrations from childhood to adulthood. Merchant is an interesting figure here, because whilst an undeniable success, he is hugely self-deprecating and regales his colleagues and the audience with stories of his failures in romance and insecurity over his unconventional looks – something over which Pilkington and Gervais make no attempt to reassure him.

Gervais himself is the ringleader. Both him and Merchant goad Karl into revealing more of his outlook on life, over which Gervais takes unadulterated glee. Though he can occasionally seem aggressively brash and opinionated, his affection for his friends is clear; this is very much a passion project and Gervais obviously loves nothing more than the company of these two rather odd men.

The Hanna-Barbera style animation is superlative; the comic timing and visual gags layered over the dialogue are hugely memorable, without any uncomfortable stylistic jarring with the humour of the original podcasts. It also creates the worlds that the trio so artfully recount beautifully – you really get a sense that the animators love the universe that they’ve been given to play with, with characters described in previous anecdotes making background cameos and call backs to previous jokes that hard core fans will really appreciate.

All in all, the Ricky Gervais Show is laugh out loud funny, beautiful to look at and, surprisingly, rather sweet.

MULAN

The pitch – boy-meets-girl, boy-gives-girl-black-eye, is vintage Disney-fare, as we all know. Okay, maybe more like vintage Nicholas Cage-fare, but I digress. The point is, despite, or perhaps because it strays somewhat from the norm, I really, really like it. Alot of people don’t really “get” Mulan – popular opinion being, that in terms of the Disney-Renaissance, it’s somewhere between that jewel in Disney’s crown, Beauty and the Beast and that shit in a bag on Disney’s doorstep, Home on the Range. I would say this is wholly inaccurate – because whilst Mulan shares too many fairy-tale trappings to not be considered classic Disney, the result is something entirely different and - particularly for young women, quite exciting.

Mulan’s MO, is not to find a man. Neither was Belle’s, to be fair, but she still sings about a Prince Charming that exists between the pages of a novel, with an undisguised thrill of hope. Mulan, during her opening sequence, fumbles her way through preparing for and meeting with the Match-Maker, in a wholly unromantic scene, designed to test her little-wife skills to a finite degree. Which brings me to my next point; When I say Mulan fumbles her way through this, I’m not kidding. She turns up late, with straw in her hair and ala Arnold Rimmer, her arms daubed in her own revision. Mulan is socially awkward and clumsy – Belle may have been lauded for being a free spirit, but her moral compass, poise and intelligence, were of an impossible standard. In Mulan, we finally have a Disney heroine just like us.

When Mulan, in a stunning, calmly defiant sequence, chops off her hair, dons her elderly father’s armour and goes to war in his place, it is to save his life. It is her choice and an entirely selfless act that has nothing to do with any desire for a romantic life. And when she arrives, we have scenes of elation and triumph, such as the final frames of “Be a Man” and refreshingly, scenes were the female ingénue is the centre of the comedy. Okay, she’s surrounded with funny characters, namely her three boorish, but good-hearted best friends, but her desperate and misjudged attempts to hide her femininity are extremely funny and once again, wonderfully, mercifully human. 

Given the film’s running time, it’s admirable that Mulan is not a success at the training camp right away, as though in life, having the opportunity to prove yourself you’ve always longed for, always goes the way you expect. And Mulan earns her stripes, and our respect, by trying again and again, despite a number of mishaps, due to her own gaucheness and lack of physical prowess. When she does eventually triumph, first by winning the respect of her fellow soldiers and later the war itself, it feels legit and ultimately, more joyous.

The romance with her captain (remember? That guy that punched her in the face? Though this was during fight training, I hasten to add) could feel perfunctory, but luckily the film is smart enough to stray from melodrama. The two, quite rightly, don’t share much screen time, because this really isn’t his story - and as such, they don’t share a kiss, either. Rather, he quietly matures enough to realise that he’d rather a woman with a bit of bite, than the demure, delicate little thing he’d presumably always thought he wanted. The result is rather sweet and the film ends on a quiet, domestic moment, in contrast to the previous scene, wherein a grateful China bows at a humble and astonished Mulan’s feet. It’s victorious and simple all at once and we leave feeling that we could have that too. That it’s within our reach.