Constantine: A Feast of Friends

Yes, here we are again. Bumps in the road come and go, but favourite (and obsessive) shows are forever. I’ve done the first three episodes of Constantine, but I’ve fallen behind in so many things. John Constantine will not be one of them. Onwards and upwards, my friends - it’s time for three themes:

Warning! Danger, Will Robinson!
Here be SPOILERS for Constantine series 1 episode 4!



Hellblazer

We start with Gary Lester, and the purr wee lamb trying to get through US Customs (that’s doesn’t look like Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, but whatever) with a reeeeaaaally dodgy bottle from Khartoum. It takes about a minute for it all to go Pete Tong and Hellblazer fans will already recognise the storyline from, funnily enough, Hellblazer #001. And John ‘teaching’ Zed how to let go and use her psychic abilities to travel a network - like John floats the synchronicity highway? We get a mention of Newcastle early on, and the showrunners don’t gloss over the fact that Gary is still a skeevy drug addict. (Excellent casting, by the way - JonJo O’Neill is the perfect hapless shifter who just wants to do good - and if that’s by way of another fix, then all the better.) John comes over as a bit of a hardass on poor Gary - he’s judgemental of his addict ways, he refuses his help at every turn, he tells him to his face that he’s the last person he’d ever want to help him with anything. If this were the comic, it’d be because he either (1) knew he couldn’t trust Gary, or (2) wanted him as far aways as possible in a bid to keep him out of danger. From Matt Ryan’s face and body language, I’m going to go with option 1 here. It works.

Gary gives us the story of Newcastle, and inadvertently shows how everyone - the ‘crew’ they ran with back then - thought John was the dog’s bollocks and no-one could resist ‘a bit of black magic with the John Constantine’.

I like how the whole story has come out of bad luck - Gary just happens to be on the chore for a fix, so that he comes across the boy containing the demon in the first place. It’s typical Hellblazer for some poor soul to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Tropes

We get a full-on exorcism, a bug-fuelled rescue of a young lad’s soul - not by John, but by needy Gary. He’s so made up with the fact that he succeeded it’s so sad to see that the complete numptie at the airport smashed the bloody thing and let the demon out. This is what a show about demonology and dark arts should have, right? Ticks a box, and preps the audience for later episodes containing the premise.

John’s speech about Gary and himself as younger men - people who use, people who run away, people who lose their way after shit hits the fan. This sets Gary up as both the story’s everyman who couldn’t take the big time (which is fair enough, considering what that actually was back in Newcastle) and also the waster character who just wants to be redeemed by coming through for once in his life.

Zed: she wants to see the good in people, she wants Gary to turn over a new leaf and impress John, I think so Zed can show she’s right and John is wrong about people being unable to change. It’s an interesting thought from both sides - even though she appears to be hiding out with John and Chas from her ‘real life’, she still thinks the best of people until proven wrong. John is used to the shittier side of people’s natures though - he’s fully prepared for everyone to be bastard-coated bastards with bastard filling (something I have to agree with).

And Nommo is the mysterious shaman dude with all the answers. (I like this character, and the actor, Charles Parnell. It’d be nice if he were to come back at some point.)
We have Manny and his sudden appearances, to first of all check that John is still on the path to tracking down the series arc the Rising Darkness, while simultaneously giving us some insight into Zed’s abilities and where they may or may not stem from. Sowing the seeds for much later on, as it turns out.

Using

Gary: being the addict is obvious. But he’s also using people to find some way to atone for running away and hiding at Newcastle. John, the manipulator of people, using small victories to make himself feel some tiny amount of satisfaction that he’s managed to erase a little of the red in his ledger. Zed, the psychic, using her abilities to help, but also perhaps using Gary’s presence to get some answers about John’s past. Mnemoth the hunger demon is the only straightforward one here, who isn’t using someone or something else for ulterior motives. You could argue that it’s the only pure character here. Even Nommo uses psychotropics to get his answers, and in doing that perhaps cements John’s trust in him and what he can do. I’m sure Nommo would have no qualms about leaning on John for a favour in the future based on this episode.

But who is Manny using and how? During his second appearance he’s apparently not convinced that John is up to the task of what he’s planning for the demon. Funny how he’s not at all against John’s actual plan (that will be revealed in the last act). Odd that an angel would have no problem with what he knew John to be planning. It appears to be the first indication that Manny either doesn’t understand or doesn’t believe that John would actually go through with it. Of course, it’s good that Manny didn’t say anything to that effect or The Big Reveal would have been ruined.

When we do get to the last act and we see what John’s got up his sleeve, Gary is not angry. In fact he seems appreciative; is he awed by John’s offer of a point to using Gary’s life (and death) for good, or is he just glad of a way out, a way to be off the hook for Newcastle, in a way that makes him a hero?

The third time Manny appears he comes to sit with John over the agonising death that Gary is going through piece by piece. Does he want to help John, or does he want to be there at the end for poor Gary, to maybe take his soul when it’s freed? Perhaps he’s just using this opportunity to see what John is capable of, for future adventures? It certainly is ambiguous, and anyone who grew up on Farscape will see the potential for mass mood whiplash around the corner.

Obligatory quotes

Zed: People can change, you know.
John: Bollocks. We are who we are. Eventually.

John: You know what I always say, Gaz. Everyone has the capacity to change.
Gary: I’ve never heard you say that before.
John: Exactly.

Zed: Gary loved you and you betrayed him!
John: You think I wanted this? I told you: people around me die. If you can’t handle it, then go.

It was a full episode, and it was a well-planned one. This was not a procedural drama in the sense that it did not seek to solve the problem of the demon Mnemoth, but rather open up the can of worms that was Gary’s life and John’s part in it all. Gary was a very welcome addition to the mill house, and JonJo O’Neill was very well used. We got a range of pissed-off expression from John, and the oh fuck no face that is starting to become a warning that he’s about to lose patience with the turd-burp part of his universe. He also unleashes a few new epithets (and I am enjoying the Englishness of his swearing. It’s so nice to hear it being used in US telly) without being a stereotype. I liked Zed’s two cents, questioning John where other people may not have felt educated enough on the context, or perhaps intimidated by all the shit he pulls with magic (like randomly having the original Taba’at Shlomo at his disposal to carve the seal of Solomon into a handy glass bottle). When she feels she has to step in she’s not afraid to do so, and I like that about her. She also has to deal with Gary’s come-downs first-hand, and she copes pretty well for someone who’s never ‘dabbled’ with drugs. She continues to challenge and question, and that’s forcing John to evaluate things more clearly. I like it.

So, marks out of ten? I’d give this one an eight - for not shying away from doing what it had to in the end. I wish it could have gone a little further, but this is NBC not HBO (or AMC). Pity. Still, we have plenty more episodes to go. I may even do another one tonight.

Peach and lube, everyone! Peach and lube.

General shite

So this is going to mostly be about me trying to put things down on virtual paper sheerly to straighten them out in my head. You know when you can’t understand what’s happening, but when you have to explain it to someone else it becomes clear to you? It’s one of those times.

Where do I start? Hong Kong. I do think about what life would be like every morning if I’d never left; if I hadn’t been told my work visa would never be stamped again and given seventy-two hours to leave; if I’d continued with the same job(s); if I were still living in the bright centre of the universe. It hurts, most days. Because I have friends who have left, and they’ve experienced the same thing I did when I came back to England; there is no life outside of cities, here. And I live close to the New Forest. It’s kind of like Bumblefuck Nowhere, UK style. It took me nearly a year to get a car (and the stimulus for that was me having to get 200 miles up the country for a writers’ conference, and public transport being fucking shocking) and longer than that to move out of my little sister’s spare room into an actual flat. There’s an entertainment complex just 10 minutes’ walk from where I now live. Which is nice. Restaurants, bars, even a 10-screen cinema. There’s a gym and a pool and a 6 day supermarket. It’s all good. But I don’t use it. The cinema is a go-zone on Tuesdays because they do cheaper tickets, studios allowing. At other times it is just amazingly expensive. My job is pretty cushty, but it’s not the best paid in the world. I’m lucky to even have one, and one that pays for my rent, my car, and a little extra on the side (it keeps me in vodka, for example). But there’s no atmosphere. Unless you want gentle Sunday afternoon drives in brilliant sunshine to places you can picnic and then go home again, there’s not an awful lot to brighten your week. It’s boring. It’s monotonous. And I’ve never been good with monotonous. Three of my friends have gone back to Hong Kong. I think, more and more, that I would if I could.

I have a friend, living still in Hong Kong, who has a bit of Jerry MacGuire syndrome; she cannot be alone. Not in a needy, scared way, but in exactly the same way as I find this country boring: she needs constant stimulation, fun with people you know, a break from the routine - this is why she needs company, and as more time passes, I find I need it too. But if I did get that, if I did manage to get a quick trip down the pub for an alcohol-free beer three nights a week, I’d then be upset that I don’t get time for my own obsessions.

I have one, and that’s writing.

Ah yes, here we go. How much writing have I done since I returned to England? Well, not an awful lot. And the stuff I have produced has all been fanfic - not one word of original stuff. And I know why. Everything I write now is Changed Me; suddenly there are boundaries, suddenly there’s a need for more realism and less imagination, suddenly my writing is turning into what I hate most about me - boring, life-by-numbers. The narrative is dampened, simplified, reduced to the mundane. The plots are starting to all sound familiar, the twists predictable to the point where they’re not twists, and the dialogue is all same-same. I can see it, right there on the MacBook screen in front of me, and it hurts.

I used to look back at my earlier writing and cringe, because it was weak, it was flawed, and some of it was downright awful. But that was stuff I’d written seven, eight years ago. When I look back at stuff I’ve written just three years ago, I cringe. But now it’s because that was a time when my brain was obviously enjoying its freedom from the boring and mundane, and producing fresh, exciting stories with funny, genuinely good narrative. Every time I look at a Scrivener screen now, the blank white is awash with knowing that whatever I’m about to write will never be as good as the novel I completed (that I still can’t get published), the seven sci-fi novels I wrote pretty much for my own amusement, or the fanfic about the knife. The empty page is already too crowded before I start. It’s full of failure and trying too hard, of all the signs of a writer having lost ‘it’ - the ‘it’ that made them good. The magic has gone. And I don’t think it’s ever coming back. I’ve never had a more pressing need to be able to block out the world and get into my own writing headspace - and I’ve never been less able to do it. It’s just not there any more. Daydreams don’t bring me plot ideas. Waking up with a small hangover no longer makes me realise what’s missing from the scene I’ve recently written. (Partly because I haven’t written a scene, and partly because I don’t think the hangover section of my brain cares any more.)

My friends did return to Hong Kong, and I’m happy for them. It’s where they should be. I just don’t know where I should be, but something tells me it’s not here. I grew up in a small towny kind of place. I’d never lived in a UK city. I moved to Hong Kong and the city life grew on me. When I came back to the UK, I lost all of that cityness, and 90% of my friends, in one fell swoop. I do have family here, which obviously made it easier, and my very, very close friend from way back. But I miss the randomness, the absurd fun, the ‘whacky’ adventures I’ve had overseas. They just don’t have the capacity to happen over here.

I’m still confused with what I’m supposed to be doing in life. I mean, people get hobbies but is it just to fill up your days? It is supposed to be giving yourself something to do during that time you’re not at work or sleeping? In that case, does it matter what it is? People say ‘get a hobby, go out and see the sun or something’. But time will move along anyway, the day will still end and I’ll still get to bed so I can go to work the next day - so what does it matter how I fill that evening time? It all goes the same way, right?

Part of me is aware that I’m on the brink of an episode where I cannot mentally or physically get out of bed. Part of me is aware that I should be getting up and going to my archery club, or just standing outside in the sun (because feeling sunshine on my skin makes me feel better for no reason whatsoever). But the rest of me is saying ‘why conform? Why do what you’re supposed to? Why both going to archery or going outside when you’ll just have to come back - what does it change? What difference does it make to anyone, anywhere?’ I do want to go to archery, but I also think it’s too planned and I can’t make myself go through with it. And yet I miss doing archery. It’s there, ready and waiting for me, but I can’t make myself plan the day to work by taking my archery stuff, so I can go and do it straight from work, because all day I’ve got this plan that suddenly I’m a slave to, and I hate that feeling.

Pretty fucked up, right? Right. Thought so.

And behind it all, there’s that nagging feeling that you haven’t written anything, that you won’t write anything, and it’s all over. Oh, you’ll get some scenes on paper, but you’ll proofread each part and find it’s just not grabbing you, it’s boring, it’s normal - and you’ll never finished it. Once upon a time, I had one single solitary story that was started and then archived as never finished. How many do I have now? Five, at last count. You get to guess why.

That’s about it, I think. Talking it through hasn’t actually made it any clearer - other than convincing myself of the inevitable. Maybe that’s why I’ve been downgraded from ‘gets letters from agents rejecting her book’ to ‘agents can’t even be bothered to reject you’. I was going to continue sending out my book to agents on my list, but really, when it’s so bad they can’t be arsed to respond to you at all, then why bother? Each time is a three month wait for a response that will never come, so you rewrite parts of the book and you rejig ideas and you agonise over a perfect cover letter and you send it all out again - to wait three months and hear nothing, all over again. Why do I waste my time? Someone please tell me, because I’m losing the will to do much at all these days, much less send out letters that will never be answered.

And then there’s the whole ‘dating’ thing - people will tell you you’re just stuck in a rut and you need to date someone. Why? To what end? I have friends to take up all my time - what else do I need? If the whole point of a date is sheerly to interview someone to see if they are a good fit with you, and you can be friends, then why don’t I just keep my friends and not bother? And how can someone be a good fit with me, if I’m not a good fit with me? The dating rant I could go on would be massive - so I’m not doing it right now. It will get its own blog entry, in time.

But not today. Today I’m done.