Tag Archives: Sigourney Weaver

A Monster Calls

This was the film we tried to go and see all week. We should be grateful it made it to the local cinema, because who would want to be deprived of a good long cry? As it was, Kleenex were required, and there was a bucket too.

A Monster Calls

I can no longer recall the exact details of the book by Patrick Ness, and by that I mean the minor characters and any minor plots. I think there were some. They are not in the film, which is good, as you don’t want to detract from the main story about Conor, his dying mum and his angry grandma. And the school bullies, because to be beaten up every day as your mother is dying is obviously [not] what a 13-year-old boy needs.

A Monster Calls

The film let us concentrate on Conor’s nightmares and the subsequent meetings with a tree monster who comes to the house (voiced by Liam Neeson) to tell him stories.

Then there is grandma, played by Sigourney Weaver, doing a good British accent, while going around being at least as angry as her grandson. And who can blame her; she is losing her child, and gaining a grandchild who hates her.

A Monster Calls

At first the film went so slowly I was afraid it would ruin things but, almost imperceptibly, it sped up and before we knew it we were hooked, by Conor’s dismal daily life, and his mum’s sufferings, and you could literally see her getting worse.

Beautifully filmed in the Northwest, it looked like home to us (not quite as I’d imagined it from the book or from Jim Kay’s illustrations).

And it was only on the way out I remembered I had tissues in my bag, after casting around in my mind what we could possibly use to mop those tears with.

(Also posted on Bookwitch)

Galaxy Quest

Thinking about Alan Rickman’s films on Thursday, I was struck by an urgent need to watch Galaxy Quest again. So we did. It’s the kind of genius comedy that should be watched regularly, which we haven’t done, but might do from now on.

We saw it in the cinema when it was new, but it felt like not many people did at the time. We got the video and made good use of it for Son’s birthday party soon after, as a film that would appeal to the age group, but was unlikely to be known to the other boys. That turned out to be right, and Galaxy Quest was also a hard act to beat, or even match, for subsequent parties.

The Star Trekky-ness of it is fun, but all the humour works even if you have no idea what Star Trek was, or the relationships between its actors. And Galaxy Quest has the best taking-out-the-rubbish-and-recycling scene I know.

Time means you forget some details, which then can come back and be almost as good as new when you see them again. I particularly enjoyed the bit where the other actors, minus one, arrived on the spaceship and were freaked out by the aliens, who turned ‘human’ shape by the time the last of the group caught up with them and who had no idea what all the excitement was about.

It’s possible to go on and on about it and its perfection, but I won’t. Watch it – again – if you haven’t already. I believe I will. It was the only thing to do on a day that brought us the news of Alan Rickman’s far too early death.

Galaxy Quest

The show must go on.

Snow Cake

Over on Bookwitch there is a new page listing books on Autism and Asperger Syndrome. Following on from yesterday’s post here on OCD, we’ve got Autism, too. To celebrate that it was Alan Rickman’s birthday on Saturday, we watched Snow Cake. Daughter had been uncertain about the film until she looked it up, and then got very enthusiastic all of a sudden.

Snow Cake

Sigourney Weaver did an exceptional job as Linda, the autistic mother, whose daughter is killed in Alan Rickman’s car. He calls to see her, and gets persuaded (forced) to stay and organise the funeral, so that he can take the rubbish out for her the day after. It’s a small community, with some good people and quite a few busybodies.

The woman with the sympathy cake provides some hilarity, which of course leads to the snow cake of the title. Linda eats snow, and is more obsessed with neatness and cleanliness than Monks with his OCD. But she learns, too, and can adapt a little to Alan Rickman’s presence, and even to her daughter’s funeral do.

A belated happy 63rd birthday, Alan!