It’s late. I’m knackered. If I write at length now I will probably annoy someone with my abuse of English. I’ll just say that I’ve come back from seeing the remake of The Manchurian Candidate with a couple of (Left-leaning Cambridge don) friends. We all agreed that it was as if a bonkers anti-globalisation conspiracy theory Website had gone widescreen. Disappointingly, there were no flying saucers. It was still entertaining and disturbing, especially Meryl Streep’s performance—which was even scarier than all of the invasive medical procedures we got to see in close up. Denzel Washington is admirably understated. The other players are well cast. And Wyclef Jean’s cover of Fortunate Son rocks like a workshop full of children’s wooden horses in an earthquake.
I wish I could remember enough about the original to make a sensible comparison, but I saw that one late at night on TV and drifted in and out of consciousness while it was showing. If you know the film you might have some idea how trippy an experience that was.
[The title of this post is also a reference to our Jon. I’ll reply to your interesting email this weekend when I have time to give it the thought it deserves.]