Alex Bell - fantasy author

I have a longstanding adoration for Basil Rathbone, not just because he is – very probably – the sexiest man who’s ever lived, but also because I love his performance as Sherlock Holmes:

I have a box set of the fourteen Sherlock Holmes films Rathbone made with Nigel Bruce between 1939-1946, and it is the most oft-watched box set I own. House of Fear and Terror by Night are my all time favourites, and I have watched both those films over and over again.

For many people, Jeremy Brett is the definitive Sherlock Holmes and it is, indeed, the case that the Brett version is far more true to the books than the Rathbone one. Rathbone’s Holmes is warmer – there is no evidence of a cocaine addiction, or much in the way of Holmes’s depressive nature. Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes lacks the cold asceticism Jeremy Brett brings to the part. These films are done with a much lighter touch, and there is much more of a sense of very close friendship between Holmes and Watson:

That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy the Jeremy Brett version – I do, very much, and have the box sets for that one as well, but I would not be able to watch them over and over again the way I do with the Basil Rathbone ones. This is partly because the Rathbone films have a much greater air of nostalgia. Most of them are set in “modern day” – meaning the 1940’s, which, I think, gives them a sort of sophisticated elegance that the Victorian setting lacks. Plus the fact that they’re filmed in black and white, which makes them even more effective, especially in the spookier films, such as The Scarlet Claw.

Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes may not be as cold and clinical as Arthur Conan Doyle’s original, but he is still a master of deduction, and ferociously intelligent (you can tell just by looking at him!):

Inspector Lestrade and Dr Watson are both portrayed as bumbling – if good natured – fools in these films which, of course, is not accurate to the books, but allows for plenty of fine, surprisingly understated, comic moments. There is also the odd bit of accidental comedy when the story runs into the most delicious melodrama that seems quite over the top by today’s standards but - I won’t lie - I love a bit of thunder and lightning, and villainous laughs, and da da da theme music from time to time.

In short, the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes films may not be the most accurate portrayal, but I think they bring something very special to the stories in terms of style, warmth, cosiness and nostalgia.

Anyway – what sparked this blog post was that it was my birthday yesterday and my lovely Mum bought me a Basil Rathbone bracelet and matching necklace from the utterly fabulous Alternative Boo Teek (for whom I have already expressed my love here):

How unbelievably cool? The photos really don’t do these pieces justice – they’re both literally stuffed with all manner of ghoulish charms – but they are totally gorgeous and combine two of my favourite things – Basil Rathbone and the macabre. Jewellery doesn’t get any better than this.

And - because it’s beyond awesome - here’s a snap of my birthday cake, lovingly baked for me by my Mum. As anyone who knows their nursery rhymes will recognise, it is the notorious pie from sing a song of sixpence:

Yes, indeed, one of the only things that can come close to Basil Rathbone + macabre, is cake + macabre. Where possible, I always prefer my birthday cake to be just a little bit macabre, ghoulish, sinister or otherwise disturbing.

Most of the things I love the most were introduced to me by my Dad: golden oldie films (starring James Stewart, Cary Grant et al), Steeleye Span, Billy Bunter, Siamese cats and Leonard Cohen, to name but a few. This is why I call him my Sam-I-Am. As anyone who is a Dr Seuss fan will know, Sam-I-Am is constantly trying to get the main character in Green Eggs and Ham to try the titular dish. After much resistance, he finally does try them at the end of the book only to discover that he loves them, and is eternally grateful to Sam for introducing them to him.

Anyway, my Dad recently recorded Blithe Spirit for us to watch, and this film now falls into that category:

It’s a strange, quirky little film about a writer (Rex Harrison) who hires a medium to conduct a séance at his home as part of his research for his latest book. He’s also hoping to expose her as a charlatan. But during the course of the séance, the ghost of his first wife turns up, and stays on even after the medium and guests have gone home. Rex Harrison’s character is the only one who can see her – she remains invisible to his second wife – which makes for some interesting scenes, and great little moments where he’s addressing his first wife’s ghost, but his second wife thinks he’s talking to her (the best example being Rex Harrison’s indignantly delivered ‘I could drink you under the table!’ which, to the second wife, seems a completely unprovoked, unnecessarily antagonistic remark).

It’s an odd film in many ways. The green ghost make up is weird, but weirdly effective. And Rex Harrison’s character is so laid back that he seems completely unaffected by his first wife’s death or, indeed, by the startling turn that events take later in the film. But it has stuck in my mind, and I think I might have to get it on DVD. There’s a sort of charm to these old films that many modern ones lack entirely. Perhaps it’s because they didn’t have the special effects in those days, so the script had to be bloody good to pull the film off. Harvey, for example, is a beautiful little masterpiece of a film with one of the best scripts ever (but that’s a blog post for another time).

Another reason Blithe Spirit is so good is down to Rex Harrison’s performance. I think I would watch any film that had him in it. In fact I love his voice so much that I think I could listen to him delivering a law lecture, and I’d still enjoy it. There’s something almost mesmerising about how good he is – sheer mastery, that’s what I call it. I have, of course, seen him before in such classics as My Fair Lady and Dr Dolittle, but I’ve never seen him looking so young. Or so sexy. I mean, the man practically oozes class, sophistication and intelligence:

And here’s the one screenshot from the film I’ve been able to find:

Look at the way he wears that suit! Could any other man carry it off like that? I think not. The photo doesn’t really do him justice though. There’s just something about the way he moves, and the effortless, stiff upper lip way in which he delivers the quips. It’s simply an absolutely flawless performance. And it’s a delightfully funny, charming, odd little film. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.

Usually I would have kept a find like this a carefully guarded, jealous secret, especially as I haven’t yet seen anything at all in this Ebay store that I don’t want. I want it all! But on the basis that there is more stuff there than I can possibly buy all by myself, I decided to share this little gem of a shop after all.

Alternative Boo Teek is awesome. They have jewellery themed on everything from Jack the Ripper to Frankenstein’s bride. I’ve just bought a necklace from them based on this film:

One of my very favourite Cary Grant films - ”a drama critic (Grant) learns on his wedding day that his beloved maiden aunts are homicidal maniacs, and that insanity runs in his family.” Anyone who would think to make a necklace based on this wonderfully madcap, macabre film has me very interested indeed. It arrived today and is even more goregous than it looked in the photo. As well as fake pearls, skulls, bits of lace and a big old fashioned key, the necklace also has a little glass bottle full of tiny ‘arsenic’ tablets in it, with a vintage poison label stuck on the front. It is rocking cool. Not only did it arrive quickly, but it was beautifully packaged in a little treasure chest box with ribbons and tissue paper and heart confetti. I really, really love it when something comes wrapped up with ribbons and confetti.

This shop is highly recommended both for its brilliant quirky merchandise and its beautiful presentation. Girly and pretty, but also fantastically ghoulish and macabre - a little like Edgar Allan Poe meets unicorns and candyfloss - it just doesn’t get any better than this. I’m going to have to force myself not to look at the site too often because I don’t think I’d be able to resist buying something from it every time.

But for anyone who wants to treat themselves, or who needs to get a birthday present for someone who loves skulls and sparkle, here is the link:

http://stores.shop.ebay.co.uk/ALTERNATIVE-BOO-TEEK__W0QQ_sidZ36124333QQ_trksidZp4634Q2ec0Q2em14?_pgn=1

Just don’t buy any of my favourites.

Aha ha, I know what you’re thinking! But, no, I am not, in fact, announcing lesbianism in this, only the third post of my new blog. (That sort of thing is better left to at least the fourth post . . . Only kidding! Or am I . . . ?)

No, my dirty secret is this: for many years - ever since I started to take a perverse pride in being fiendishly unpopular at school - I only read magazines that were about classical music or politics or philosophy. If I saw one of those women’s fashion magazines, I sneered down my nose at it. I liked to think of myself as above that girly stuff (yes, I was quite pretentious, actually).

But not any more. Recently I have admitted - to myself and to my family - that although I love skeletons and spaceships and coffins and klingons as much as the next geek, I also - every once in a while -quite like flicking through a woman’s magazine. There, I said it. And furthermore, I like those little miniature bottles of perfume you get in airports. And I like Paul Frank monkeys and I like having lots of shoes and I like the scented beads they put in the shopping bags at La Senza. Yes, sir, I am a girly girl now - I even drape strings of flowers around my skeleton, Erin, sometimes if I’m feeling extra specially floaty and feminine.

But what has all this got to do with anything, you say? Well, I’m gonna tell you: this is a post about hatboxes.

I was watching Adam’s Rib yesterday - one of my all time favourite films - and there’s this scene where Spencer Tracy’s character brings home a present for his wife, played by the glorious and resplendent Katherine Hepburn. It was a hat. But it wasn’t the hat that caught my attention so much as the box it came in - an actual, honest-to-goodness, perfectly circular hatbox with ribbons and tissue paper and everything. Why don’t they do those anymore, I ask myself?

In Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, the Pythons conclude that: “people aren’t wearing enough hats.” I am with them on that, and I submit that the underlying problem behind this problem is that you don’t get hatboxes anymore. Which just causes problems for everybody.

So there it is. The sole purpose of this post is, in fact, to express my sadness and regret at the fact that hats don’t come in hatboxes anymore. And because I’m no longer ashamed of the tiny little side of me that isn’t 100% geek, I ain’t even embarrassed to express that regret here on this blog for the whole world to see.

Please, world, bring back hatboxes.