Showing posts with label Neil Gaiman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neil Gaiman. Show all posts

Tuesday, 27 May 2014

Book Review | The Severed Streets by Paul Cornell


Desperate to find a case to justify the team's existence, with budget cuts and a police strike on the horizon, Quill thinks he's struck gold when a cabinet minister is murdered by an assailant who wasn't seen getting in or out of his limo. A second murder, that of the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, presents a crime scene with a message... identical to that left by the original Jack the Ripper.

The new Ripper seems to have changed the MO of the old completely: he's only killing rich white men. The inquiry into just what this supernatural menace is takes Quill and his team into the corridors of power at Whitehall, to meetings with MI5, or 'the funny people' as the Met call them, and into the London occult underworld. They go undercover to a pub with a regular evening that caters to that clientele, and to an auction of objects of power at the Tate Modern. 

Meanwhile, the Ripper keeps on killing and finally the pattern of those killings gives Quill's team clues towards who's really doing this....

***

In London Falling, Paul Cornell introduced readers to Detective Inspector James Quill and his squad of oddballs, including undercover officer Kev Sefton, analyst Lisa Ross, and Tony Costain, a properly dodgy copper on the road to reform. In the course of investigating a series of mob-related murders, the aforementioned four were cursed with something called the Sight—the ability to see the supernatural forces underpinning the city—which has been driving them half mad in the months since they managed to overmatch Mora Losley.

Catastrophe strikes the capital a second time in The Severed Streets, a solid sequel to a satisfying, if slow starter, but on this occasion, the team is aware of what they're up against... though that isn't to say they're prepared.
Thanks to an interesting series of interactions between this government and certain classes of the general public, it was shaping up to be one of those summers. He and his team had been told that the Smiling Man had a 'process' that he was 'putting together,' and Quill kept wondering if he was somewhere behind the violence. He could imagine a reality where the coalition in power had done a lot of the same shit, but without a response that included Londoners burning down their own communities. Really, it was down to how the initial outbreaks of violence had been mismanaged and a strained relationship between government and the Met that was leaving him increasingly incredulous. (p.15)
Or so they think, in their innocence—for though they know that there's more to London than meets the eye, they don't know much... and who in the underworld is going to bring the police up to speed?

Thursday, 13 February 2014

Cover Identity | Edward Miller's Mieville

As longtime readers of The Speculative Scotsman will be well aware, China Mieville is one of my very favourite authors, and The Scar is far and away my favourite of his exquisite fictions. But there was a time when I hadn't a clue that this book existed—that this was an author I'd be interested in.

I still remember the moment I became aware of both.

It was 2002. I was eighteen years old. Coraline was on the cusp of coming out and I'd gallavanted to Glasgow to hear Neil Gaiman read a bit of his new book. The event was held in Ottakars, as I recall. I miss Ottakars...

Anyway, whilst waiting in line to meet the man, I spent quite a bit of time admiring the Science Fiction & Fantasy section of the store. Mostly I could see spines, but a few of the books were faced out, the better to attract the attention of eejits like me.


My eye was drawn to a little book called Perdido Street Station in particular. The cover art was extraordinary, I thought. Weird and wonderful. That said, even then I knew not to judge a book by its cover, so I made a mental note to read a bit about the book when I could.

Weeks passed—months, even—before I took the plunge and bought a copy alongside what has become one of my most prized possessions: a first edition hardcover of The Scar. Both books had incredible covers by a man called Edward Miller (aka Les Edwards), and if I'm honest, I don't know that I'd have discovered China Mieville—certainly not so early on—were it not for his lavish art.

Tor have long since dispensed with Miller's services, I'm sorry to say, in favour of the icons that adorn the award-winning author's back catalogue today. But whilst researching some stories for this week's edition of the British Genre Fiction Focus, I came across a blog called Out There Books, and on that blog, a post about the Czech cover art of Mieville's ten texts to date. 

Evidently, Edward Miller has been keeping busy. Feast your eyes on these, readers!


A thousand thanks to Tom for alerting me to these Mieville-related paintings. They've made me a very happy man... albeit rather nostalgic.

Oh, the good old days, eh? 

Friday, 23 November 2012

Film Review | ParaNorman


From afar, Laika Entertainment's first feature film since Coraline in 2009 looks questionable at best.

But come a little closer. Look again. How about now?

Coraline was of course adapted from the charming Neil Gaiman novel of the same name, whilst ParaNorman springs from an original script by a first-time filmmaker. Likewise, Coraline was directed by stop-motion maestro Henry Selick, whereas Laika's latest has its own unknown author at the helm, chaperoned by Sam Fell of Flushed Away fame. One can't help but wonder where all the talent went, and why.

ParaNorman's premise is similarly discouraging: there's this little outcast kid called Norman - voiced by The Road's Kodi Smit-McPhee - and he can see dead people. That old chestnut again, then.


And isn't the title terrible? On the other hand, inappropriate capital letters are a real pet peeve, so maybe that's just me.

But never mind the title, and rest assured that the premise improves. Finally, forget the apparent lack of talent, because ParaNorman wants for nothing once it gets going. Admittedly it takes a little too long to get to the good stuff - the story goes, though very slowly - but beyond this belated beginning the pace improves, the narrative arc becomes darker, indeed deeper, and once the ante is upped, the cartoonish characters come into their own.

It's hard to express how different this film is before and after the half-hour mark... suffice to to say some shock of creative energy seems to possess ParaNorman at this point. Make it that far and you'll be blown away by the array of fantastic surprises the filmmakers have been holding back.


ParaNorman deals in a very real way with bigotry, religion, peer pressure and yes, death; astounding and encouraging in what is ostensibly a children's film. The film tackles such topics lightly but not loosely, investing the proceedings with meaning enough to last past the end credits. More movies like ParaNorman, and perhaps there's hope for the next generation yet!

In terms of entertainment, writer/director Chris Butler - alongside Sam Fell - equips himself incredibly well. Its iffy offing aside, ParaNorman builds and builds towards a remarkable finale, and all the while it's bloody lovely to look at, and beautiful musically, too. 

Overall, ParaNorman is a less consistent film than Coraline, but at its best? I'm as surprised as anyone to find myself saying that it's actually rather better.

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Cover Identity | The Drowning Girl in The Ocean at the End of the Lane

So I see the North American cover art for Neil Gaiman's forthcoming novel has been doing rounds around the internet:


Pretty, isn't it?

That is, excepting the nebulous blue behind the author's name, which is sure to be embellished before the big day.

But this is Cover Identity: art alone - even lovely art like this - is just not enough.

Thus, I found myself wondering what was going on in this picture. On the surface it's simple enough, but look more closely: note that the girl - little Lettie, judging by the following synopsis - is perfectly prone. So is she drowning?

Could she be dead already? A body dumped in the deep sea?

Or has my mind immediately gone to dark places? It's quite likely Lettie could simply be submerged in the otherworld that exists underwater... which sounds awfully like a Neil Gaiman novel to me. Wonderfully, we can all speculate, but who can truly say?

There's blurbage too, though I'm not sure if it contains a clue:
"They say you cannot go home again, and that is as true as a knife..."

A man returns to his childhood village seeking comfort in memories of his youth and the friend who long ago transformed his life.

Once upon a time in a rural English town, an eleven-year-old girl named Lettie Hempstock shows a little boy the most marvelous, dangerous, and outrageous things beyond his darkest imagination. But an ancient power has been disturbed, and now invasive creatures from beyond the known world are set loose. There is primal horror here, and menace unleashed — within the boy’s family and from the forces that have gathered to consume it.

Determined to have their way, these otherworldly beings will destroy a meddling little boy if he dares to get in the way. It will take calm, courage, and the cleverness of the extraordinary Hempstock women — Lettie, her mother, and her grandmother, to keep him alive. But his survival will come at an unexpected cost...

Storytelling genius Neil Gaiman delivers a whimsical, imaginative, bittersweet, and at times deeply scary modern fantasy about fear, love, magic, sacrifice, and the power of stories to reveal and to protect us from the darkness inside — a moving, terrifying, and elegiac fable for every age.
It's been eight years since the mixed blessing of Gaiman's last effort for adults, Anansi Boys, but I don't doubt that The Ocean at the End of the Lane will be brilliant.

That said, it's going to be a fleeting pleasure at best. According to Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com, Gaiman's new book is only 192 pages long!

Size certainly isn't everything, and I hate to sound ungrateful - make no mistake: this is worth getting worked up about - but after all this time I admit I'd been hoping for something... more.
I'll be there day one anyway, which is to say on the 18th of June 2013. The Ocean at the End of the Lane is coming from Headline Review hereabouts, and William Morrow in North America. Mark your calendars accordingly!

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

The Best Things In Life | Click-Clack the Charitable Rattlebag

It's always the way when I'm AFK for any length of time: I fall so far behind on my RSS feeds that it can take weeks before I'm approaching current again. Luckily, whilst trawling through the blogs of all the authors I follow last night, I chanced upon Neil Gaiman's latest post, wherein the estimable author made mention of a short-story of his I'd never heard of.

It's called "Click-Clack the Rattlebag," and this is how it begins:
'What kind of story would you like me to tell you?'

'Well,' he said, thoughtfully, 'I don't think it should be too scary, because then when I go up to bed, I will just be thinking about monsters the whole time. But if it isn't just a little bit scary, then I won't be interested. And you make up scary stories, don't you?'
And today is the day for scary stories, isn't it?

Well, wonderfully, you can hear this one from free!

But we have to backtrack briefly, because I wrote hear rather than read. See, this neat Halloween treat is only available through Audible.

I confess I've never been particularly interested in audiobooks - I either focus too much on them, or not enough - so I didn't have an account already, but because Amazon now owns Audible, you can simply transfer your login details across.

Saying that, you still have to download a download manager and install player software capable of decoding DRM-ridden AA and AAX files, so yes, the process could certainly be better, but I dare say it's a fair price to pay for free Neil Gaiman.


One last caveat: you'll have to be timely to take full advantage of this offer. "Click-Clack the Rattlebag" is only available gratis till midnight tonight. On the other hand, for every download Audible tracks, the US arm of the organisation has pledged to donate $1 to the education-oriented charity DonorsChoose.org, whilst the UK site will give 50p per user to Booktrust. So it's a guddle for a good cause.


Plus, you get a creepy short story by Neil Gaiman for nowt. What's not awesome about that bargain, exactly?

Do this thing, dear readers. 

This is the link to use if you're in the UK. If you're in Germany, you also have a special site. Everyone else needs to go here for their free Halloween reading.

To all and sundry, in any event: I wish you a happy All Hallows' Eve!

Thursday, 24 May 2012

But I Digress | An Education in the Arts

It feels like just yesterday I was starting out at Uni.

It wasn't. It was, oh... ten years ago I guess? Maybe more. Maybe - I'd like to think - a little less. In any case, my four year degree course ended ages ago, so it must have begun even before that.

I studied English and Film & Media.

It was lots of fun. I look back on the experience more positively than I felt about it at the time, in fact. But however much I enjoyed it, or however much I convinced myself I did, the qualification it was all for has been of... shall we say very little use to me in the years since.

Then again, I don't care to pursue employment in a field that stresses educational achievement. Perhaps if I did, it'd be different. I won't know for a fact until I've given up on my dream once and for all, and then, well... it'll hardly matter, will it?

But enough about me. There's a whole new breed of would-be purveyors of art out there, a whole other generation's worth, and the other day, geek-god Neil Gaiman blessed them with his presence.

By now you'll have been tempted by this video somewhere else on the internet, I bet, but it's 20 minutes long, and if you're anything like me you'll have kept it in an open tab until your computer crashed, then promptly forgotten all about it. I'm embedding it here on The Speculative Scotsman precisely because that's what happened to me, until I was rudely reminded of it.

This, then, is your reminder. 

You'll be glad of it too, as I assuredly was. I've had the pleasure of hearing Neil Gaiman talk in person on a couple of occasions - whenever he's come to Scotland, obviously - but his commencement address to the graduating class of Philidelphia's University of the Arts is leagues more inspirational, dare I say uplifting, than any amount of Q&A.

The author has some stellar advice to share, and anecdotes aplenty to illustrate his experiences. I'll admit some of his sayings seem slightly misguided - optimistic to put it politely - but even these are illuminating, because of course you need a little luck as well as a lot of talent to make it in the arts. Or vice versa.

If I had all day, I could go on about the value of an education in the arts for all of it. But I don't! So I'm just going to let you watch this video, wherein Neil Gaiman is funny, smart and self-effacing, as ever:


Mountains, my friends. Mountains.

What's yours? And here: if you're completely honest with yourself, are you getting any closer to it, doing what you do on a day-to-day basis?

I'll show you mine if you show me yours! :)

Monday, 11 April 2011

Press Release Your Luck | And Then What Happened?

This one's fun! :D

So a couple of weeks ago, the lovely Sam Eades, Press Officer for Headline, got in touch to tell me about a project she'd been cooking up to celebrate the PB release of Stories, "an anthology for the ages" of all-new short stories from a who's-who of contemporary authors, and edited by none other than Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrantonio.

You should really click on through to peruse the full TSS review of Stories if you don't remember reading it. And hey, buying the thing itself has never been a more affordable endeavour. I'd heartily recommend you do. Here's a link to that end and everything.

But what I was saying was, Sam invited me and a handful of other bloggers to participate in a project which hones closely to the underpinning ethic of the collection aforementioned: "And Then What Happenend?"


Me, Amanda of Floor to Ceiling Books, The Book Smugglers, Caroline and Catherine, Wondrous Reads and The Book Zone, a bunch of others... we were each of us tasked to write 100 words. No more and no less. The first 100 words would be sent to the second contributor, who by hook or by crook was to continue the narrative begun by the first blogger, then send their 100 words along to the next blogger in the great chain, and so on until everyone had written a bit, and the story was told in its entirety.

This morning I got word from Sam that the results were in.

They've even been set and formatted all pretty-like. :)

Just as soon as Neil's finished pottering around with whatever he's been pottering around with of late, you'll be able to read the resulting story on Monsieur Gaiman's blog, so I hear. However, I'm totally going to scoop him! This gives me no end of pleasure.

Click on each of the images below to embiggen them, for ease of seeing, and then... well. Let the games begin!

Page 1
Page 2
Page 3
Page 4

So what do you think? Delete as appropriate from:

The Good
The Bad
The Butt-ugly.

Who wants to guess which bit I wrote? Guess correctly and you can have... well, let's see. How about this here spare copy of Songs of the Dying Earth?

Seriously, I had so much fun doing this. My thanks to Sam for the invitation, and to all the other bloggers who helped make "And Then What Happened?" what it is. I don't know that what we came up with necessarily does Stories justice, but hey, it was a good time, and all for a good cause.

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

Book Review: Stories edited by Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrantonio


Buy this book from

"The best stories pull readers in and keep them turning the pages, eager to discover more, to find the answer to the question: 'And then what happened?' The true hallmark of great literature is great imagination, and as Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrantonio prove with this outstanding collection, when it comes to great fiction, all genres are equal.

"Stories is a groundbreaking anthology that reinvigorates, expands, and redefines the limits of imaginative fiction and affords some of the best writers in the world - from Peter Straub and Chuck Palahniuk to Roddy Doyle and Diana Wynne Jones, Stewart O'Nan and Joyce Carol Oates to Walter Mosley and Jodi Picoult - the opportunity to work together, defend their craft, and realign misconceptions. Gaiman, a literary magician whose acclaimed work defies easy categorization and transcends all boundaries, and 'master anthologist' Sarrantonio personally invited, read, and selected all the stories in this collection, and their standard for this 'new literature of the imagination' is high. 'We wanted to read stories that used a lightning-flash of magic as a way of showing us something we have already seen a thousand times as if we have never seen it at all.'

"As it transforms your view of the world, this brilliant and visionary volume - sure to become a classic - will ignite a new appreciation for the limitless realm of exceptional fiction."

***

It begins with blood. Roddy Doyle's "Blood," to be sure: a slick and sickening twist of a tale about a man who develops an inexplicable, irresistible hunger for the red stuff. "He grew up in Dracula's city. He'd walked past Bram Stoker's house every day on his way to school. But it had meant nothing to him," until one night his wife is cooking up a steak and he realises he wants it not medium-rare, not blue, but raw. He plays the eejit when she laughs his urge off; privately, his compulsion threatens to spirals out of control. He self-diagnoses anemia, imagines himself a neck fetish, but the forbidden truth of this fabulous farce is disarmingly simple: he just wants to drink blood. To next door's henhouse, then.

Stories begins with such a barnstormer of a short that you'll have bought into this once-in-a-lifetime anthology's only real conceit before you can think twice about it - and why would you? Do you hate fun? In a publicity video released a short while before this book, co-editor Neil Gaiman asserted that there's no definitive right way to read a collection of short stories; be it front to back, back to front, selectively according to length or author, any which way will do. One thing is for certain, though: Roddy Doyle's contribution is the perfect one with which to begin Stories: All-New Tales. Clever, funny and mysterious, it brings genre and general fiction together, addressing, if not quite answering the underlying question which Gaiman states in his brief introduction was the only real requirement for inclusion in this anthology: "And then what happened?"

It's a question you'll find yourself asking of this star-studded collection of short stories page after page. Roddy Doyle gives way to Joyce Carol Oates, whose chilling repetition of "but not one. Two" haunts "Fossil-Figures", a chilling, circular tale of twins born other to one another reminiscent of The Omen. Oates hands the reins to Joanne Harris, whose Jigs and Reels demonstrated her prowess with short-form narrative, and "Wildfire in Manhattan," a whimsical, if slightly overwrought tale of spiteful old deities, brings nothing to mind more than Gaiman's own American Gods.

Speaking of whom, I suspect a great many will come to Stories for that gentleman's novelette alone, and "The Truth is a Cave in the Black Mountains" does not disappoint. Gaiman introduces us to a man, short, secretive and never named, who seeks "a certain cave on the Misty Isle" where it is rumoured a deathly spectre awaits to grant his heart’s desire, and a guide to take him to it. He comes upon Calum MacInnes in "a house that sat like a square of white sky against the green of the grass," and after some bargaining, they venture forth into the ethereal landscape together. Having spent some time in the region himself, Gaiman does the highlands and islands justice, his exposition just florid enough to evoke their timeless attraction, yet retaining that essential component of such stories as this: an ever-present sense of mystery, of the unknown and the unknowable. Gaiman obscures much from the outset, yet his obfuscation never intrudes on the narrative, nor does it seem at all calculated – until an icy breath of revelation in the last act gives chilling context to all that has come before. "The Truth is a Cave in the Black Mountains" is a tale to be read and re-read immediately, so delicate is its construction, its climax so surprising and satisfying.

A sumptuous anthology already, I'm sure you'll agree, and we're only four of twenty-seven stories in. Don't go thinking that's all the big hitters, either: there's Michael Marshall Smith and Joe R. Lansdale to go, Richard Adams and Jodi Picoult, not to mention Peter Straub, Chuck Palahniuk, Diana Wynne Jones, Gene Wolfe, Michael Moorcock, Joe Hill and Gaiman's co-editor in arms, "master anthologist" Al Sarrantonio. And it wouldn't do to give short shrift to those other authors whose tales are wedged between the more household names: there isn't a dud in this bunch. Some, perhaps, work better than others, but everyone brings their A-game to the table.

Be they unknown to you or your favourite writers, the names soon begin to blur from one narrative through to the next, and it is then, as it should be, the stories that shine through. An assassin discusses whether he's been naughty or nice with his intended target; a high-school bully suffers for his sadism thanks to an accidental knife; birds nest in an interplanetary traveler out on a spacewalk; a woman becomes obsessed with a body that no-one believes will be found; a cruel sister communicates her intent to return to the land of the living; after centuries in the shadows, the macabre Cult of the Nose is finally exposed. Stories bridges the gap between genres effortlessly, going from SF to horror to historical fiction with nary a break for you to catch your breath.

There is no right or wrong way to read Stories, as Neil Gaiman says. I hopscotched through from short fiction to long, from one known quantity to another, mysterious to me. But read it you absolutely must. You won't read a more remarkable anthology than this all year. Come to that, it's not likely you'll come across a collection as thorough-bred, as impressive, surprising and impassioned as Stories in the next decade. If all were right with the world, there would be a copy of this astonishing collection on every bookshelf. Young or old, genre or general fiction fan, these tales will stay with you through the night and beyond. Storiesis truly an anthology for the ages.

***

Stories
Edited by Neil Gaiman & Al Sarrantonio
June 2010, Headline Review

Buy this book from
Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com /
IndieBound / The Book Depository

Recommended and Related Reading

Thursday, 20 May 2010

Mister Sandman Introduces Stories: All-New Tales

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the one, the only... Neil Gaiman.

"Hello to everyone who has clicked on a widget and now has me talking to them," he begins. Back in the good old days, when there was more than one bookstore in Glasgow or Edinburgh prestigious enough to have authors stop over for readings, I attended a few Neil Gaiman events - the one I remember most clearly was for the release of Coraline (I have a mouse scribbled in my proof copy to show for that) - and then, as now, he was every bit the humble English gentleman.

He's recorded a few minutes worth of introduction to Stories: All-New Tales, "a huge book of stories by wonderful writers... and me" coming from Headline Review on June 15th. Not soon enough, eh? I was lucky enough to get my hands on a manuscript of the collection earlier this month, and what a collection it is. Not a dud in the bunch. I'll say no more till my review, which you can look forward here on The Speculative Scotsman sometime next week.

In the interim, let me turn the floor over to the esteemed Neil Gaiman:


Time to get excited, am I right?

So who's looking forward to what most? For me it was the Joe Hill and the Neil Gaiman - obviously - but I'll say this: they're great stories, but my favourites have been the surprises. The Roddy Doyle, the Al Sarrantonio, the hypnotic, Sunshine-esque Gene Wolfe entry... and so many others.

Do stay tuned!

Monday, 17 May 2010

Film Review: Kick-Ass


On one hand, you have Jane Goldman and Matthew Vaughn, respectively the writer and director of the pitch-perfect 2007 adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Stardust, reteaming for the first time since that fantastic film. On the other, there's Nicolas Cage, who hasn't been truly memorable in anything since Adaptation, and Mark Millar, the comic-book guru whose rampant egomania has come to overshadow what talent he has, as last evidenced in the Angelina Jolie vehicle Wanted. Suffice it to say, then, that going in, I didn't know what to think of Kick-Ass. I had my expectations for each of its component parts, certainly, but of the whole... nothing.

Aaron Johnson, acclaimed for his star-making role in the John Lennon biopic Nowhere Boy, is Dave Lizewski, an unremarkable high school student who decides to become a super-hero. He has no powers. His only training is that which he performs in front of his bedroom mirror. Dave has no earthly reason to do what he does - which is to say, order some spandex off the internet and take to the streets to right the world's wrongs - except, well, why not? A false start nearly kills him, but Dave isn't discouraged, and soon enough his antics begin to attract attention from all the wrong places. The media go crazy over Kick-Ass, several more camera-shy vigilantes come out of the woodwork to warn Dave that his amateurishness could be the end of him, and a criminal kingpin - a real villain - blames him for the mysterious disappearance of copious quantities of cocaine.

 
 

What Kick-Ass does right, it does very, very right. Things kick off brilliantly with an enthusiastic and wonderfully witty opening that ascends in energy and tenacity until the anxious high of Dave's first encounter in his superhero garb with a couple of bullies. They pull a knife; it does not go well. There's real dramatic tension in the juxtaposition of Dave's dweebish dreams and the uncompromising brutality of the world he must realise them in, and that feeling of impending tragedy, of reality biting fanboy fantasy, is among the most remarkable aspects of Kick-Ass.

Sadly, Vaughn and Goldman take their tale in another direction entirely. While Dave is recuperating from his unfortunate run-in, we meet Hit Girl and Big Daddy, a father and daughter team bound together by blood and a shared interest in vengeance against Mark Strong's ruthless mafia man. In a return to the form of his 90s action persona with added quirk, Cage clearly relishes his role, and Chloe Moretz as his pint-sized assistant is a revelation; they make, in fact, for a substantially more charismatic and entertaining pair than Kick-Ass and his eventual sidekick-come-nemesis Red Mist (Christopher Mintz-Plasse, not playing McLovin' for once), and yet they are characters steeped in utter fantasy, stand-outs in the real world landscape of Kick-Ass for all the wrong reasons: gun-toting, impossibly fast and apparently invincible, they simply do not belong in the same film as Dave's bumbling vigilante.


Ultimately, the most troubling thing about Kick-Ass is not the failure of any of its individual elements - the cast equip themselves very well, the script is sound, the humour hits home more often than not and Vaughn's direction is endlessly stylish and so slick as to the belie the movie's modest budget - but the unevenness of the whole. Tonally, Kick-Ass is a mess, wavering between earnestness and frivolity; bitingly satirical one moment and cartoonishly brutal the next. It hopes to set fantasy against reality, but instead it is either realistic or fantastic - rarely does the twain meet - and in its attempts to have it both ways, it sacrifices the most vital aspects of each in the balancing act.

Kick-Ass is a mess, then, yes, lacking in any semblance of self unless that self is in fact its utter lack thereof, but what a glorious mess it is: fun from end to end, funny too, and certainly more coherent than the Mark Millar comic book it's based on, Vaughn and Goldman's second joint effort falters in terms of its tone but in every other aspect it's a raucous, riotous romp that easily transcends its source material.