AZ and I made it out in the frigid cold this weekend to catch Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story.

I went into it with guarded but high hopes. I'd attempted the proto-post-pre-post-modern-novel when I was an active English Major (as opposed to an English Major damaged quasi-technologist), and didn't make a lot of headway. What I do recall didn't seem to lend itself to film. But Mark Kermode on the BBC had slated it as one of his likely films of the year, which was heartening.

Cleverly, the film integrates that very struggle into its meta structure. This isn't the novel (but it is), and it isn't a film about making a film of the novel (but it is), nor is it about making a film about making a film about making a novel (but it is). It's all these twisty passages, all alike.

And it's a joy to watch. Take 1 part Extras to 1 part The Player to 1 part Masterpiece Theatre and you have about 1 third of the creativity this film expresses.

It's not likely to be around long, I fear - our theatre was sparsely populated with lit-geek types - so go now to see it on the big screen. And like Kermode, it may be on my list also, come December.

Posted by esinclai at February 20, 2006 09:45 PM |