The Slow Thaw

Just back home after walking Bobo up to the park in Easterhouse. He must have had a bit of cabin fever because he was one happy dog to be given the chance to chase sticks and leap into semi-frozen puddles.

The snow and ice have been a real nuisance but the thaw can be worse as the Christmas card scenery begins to melt away revealing dark, bare trees and the snow transforms into a mush of gray and black, especially up near the main road as it bridges the motorway. The icicles are dripping away into nothingness and the TV crew filming the chaos for the BBC has long since gone. (Bobo & I may be on a segment of library footage somewhere: captured, frozen in time as well as fact, as we trudged home in the middle of a blizzard). Looking out of the front window the whole scene reminds me of the backdrop of that wonderful crime movie from 2002; "Road to Perdition".

Somehow I managed to miss it in cinemas during its summer release but managed to catch it in February 2003 when the "Glasgow Film Theatre" re-ran it before the Oscar season. (It won the award for best cinematography and was nominated for 5 others). As it turned out my timing was perfect.

Can you remember visits to the cinema as a child when you came out blinking into the daylight after being lost in a different world for a few hours ? I have fond memories of moments of readjustment to the real world after being caught up in a magical film. Sadly, with age and experience these moments have become few and far between. I still savour those rare, bittersweet moments when movie magic gradually fades as the cinematic scenery ( whether the deserts of the Wild West or the twin moons of Mars) morphs into a Glaswegian street scene. Usually there's a feeling of dissonance as fantasy is replaced by reality. In the case of "Road to Perdition" the illusion of being still caught up in the big screen action continued as I stepped into Rose Street and headed for the station. Icy puddles and driving sleet seamlessly reflected the scenery of an icy Illinois on the cusp between Winter and Spring. ( Little wonder that the cinematography of Samuel L Hall won him an Oscar).

Critics generally loved the film, especially in the UK. Sam Mendes, coming as he does from a theatrical background, tends to be a favourite of the broadsheet set. When any reference was made to the source material, Max Allan Collins' original graphic novel, the same critics tended to write it off as if Mendes had worked a Pygmalionesque trick of turning base materials into Art.

Collins is one of my favourite crime writers, and certainly one of the most dedicated. Everything I've ever read by or about him confirms that he has always wanted to be a crime writer. He's also turned his hand to Rock Music and film direction. His work is never "Arty" but it's always entertaining and he never puts on any airs or graces. I've never fully understood his undying admiration for the work of Mickey Spillane but his passionate defence of it made me reconsider an author whom I'd previously written off as a hack.

It'ss difficult for me to pick a favourite among his novels but I have a fondness for the "Nate Heller" series. "Majic Man" in particular is not only an excellent, if unconventional, historical novel it also gives a plausible, down-to-Earth solution for the real-life Roswell mystery.

Even when writing movie or TV "tie-in" novels ("CSI" , "Bones" and "Criminal Minds") a task which other writers treat as somewhat infra dig Collins always maintains his own high standards. If anything his novels read like big screen versions of the TV series they're based on.

I'm glad to say that the productive Mr Collins shows no sign of slowing down. He's even taken on the formidable task of continuing Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer books. As I've hinted I'm not the world's biggest Hammer fan but I look forward to reading the Collins version.