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Fackham Hall: Learn From The Stupid

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

So I recently saw Fackham Hall. It’s a movie that was advertised as sort of “Naked Gun But For Stuffy British Stuff.” I am pleased to report I enjoyed it, it was also very stupid, and there’s actually something to learn from it. Enough that I want to share.

So first of all, if you wonder “will I like it,” I’d say that Fackham Hall is actually in the vein of the 2025 Deathstalker film that was an homage to old direct-to video fantasy. There is an intended audience, and if you are in that audience, you will enjoy it. If you are not, don’t bother. This is a film for people who’ve watched a lot of Stuffy British Stuff and have a sense of humor about it.

Now when it comes to a comedy the question is are the jokes any good? Fackham Hall has a lot of jokes in it, of extremely varied quality, but you won’t be lacking jokes. Not all of them are good, I’d say that the overall humor is “OK,” there’s plenty of laughs. There’s an over-reliance on crudity for the most part that I found offputting, but there are plenty of actually good jokes.

Two things stand out from the humor. The first is that there are jokes where the setup is actually part of the humor, where you realize how far the movie went for a joke or a sudden case where one thing suddenly becomes funny due to one tiny action. The second is there are a few scenes that authentically stand out, most notable an extended dialogue joke in the vein of “Who’s on first” that had me in tears. There is effort here, albeit it makes some of the low-effort jokes more obvious.

Fackham Hall does have two larger lessons, a minor one and a major one I want to explore. These are enough that they provide lessons for other comedies.

The minor lesson is that Fackham Hall actually has a plot that drives the story forward, if erratically. The Davenport family risks losing their beloved estate unless their daughter marries the cousin due to inherit it – and the disruption of a roguish young visitor and an eventual murder add chaos to the countdown. Some characters have their own concerns and sidestories. There’s enough here to power a general movie, and that gives the film plenty of energy, even if the actual plot could have been used more in the jokes.

The major lesson is the cast and the acting. For all it’s silliness the cast acts as seriously as if they were in a dramatic film. It’s not deadpan, it’s a talented lot of actors acting as if this is a film of drama and danger and intrigue and love. Watching people do the stupidest things with great sincerity and gravitas takes the film farther and makes even lame jokes actually funnier.

Thomasin McKenzie and Ben Radcliffe take on the role of inevitable lovers, and show actual chemistry and charm together. Emma Laird, who’s character’s marriage shenanigans drive the early part of the film has a scene of emotional breakdown where she is crying and screaming while also upending the common tropes of said scene. Tim McMullan plays Cyril, the family butler with absolute seriousness while also being the butt of a movie-long joke he leans into and keeps going.

The absolute standout is Damian Lewis as the Davenport family patriarch, Humphrey. Lewis invests this somewhat befuddled and inbred character with charm and sensitivity, making him actually likeable. There’s even a scene where he expresses his fatherly love to one of his daughters that is touching. Jokes be damned, Lewis was acting and nothing stopped him, not even the script.

What made Fackham Hall work was – ironically – what makes a good movie. Give it a plot and get actors who will act. It can even elevate some poor jokes or missed opportunities. I enjoyed this enough that I actually got curious to see the actors in other works, especially Mr. Lewis.

It’s not every day you can take lessons in comedy from a film that includes J.R.R. Tolkien farting, but here you go. My kudos to the cast.

Steven Savage

The Result Isn’t The Thing

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

In a recent discussion with Serdar – which seems to drive no small amount of my posts apparently – we were discussing writing and results. Both of us being writers, we’ve both put out a lot of, well, product in the form of books, blog posts, zines, and so on. We’ve also encountered many people who somehow can’t get product out, endlessly not finishing things.

(Also I hate calling my writing product. I also hate calling it content. But I digress, possibly enough to have a followup blog post.)

My terminology hangups assigned,I kept thinking about how people wanted to finish product (ugh) but never got to it. Never got a book done, couldn’t get a blog post out, and so on. They would talk about finishing but never get it done. Yet product was on their mind.

This got me thinking about how the focus on product is a problem, because product isn’t writing. Product is the result of writing. It’s the result of a process.

To write you have to write. Put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, and do it.

Except you also have to plot. You have to write things down, make plans, possibly throw them all away. You have to come up with what to say be it a mystery or the narrative you tell in a business advice book on textiles.

(Trust me, any good nonfiction book has narratives, it’s how humans think).

But to get to all that plotting you also need ideas. Brainstorming. Thinking things up. Trying things out. Breaking down in frustration and eating pastries when they don’t work (apple fritter is my preference here).

Then once you do all of the above and get something written you have to get beta readers, edit, run it through legal. If you’re self-published there’s formatting, covers, setting up, marketing.

Then, only then, do you have a product (again, ugh), because of a process. The actual book, the actual blog post, or wherever, is a small part of writing and publishing. Also by the time you’re done you’re probably on to something else, possibly to avoid thinking about the book you just put out.

But the product is just what a process produces, and unless you’re into the process you won’t get out the product. Endless speculation on the final product keeps you from getting it done. I say this having written any number of things, some stunningly mediocre, but at least they were done and real. And yes, I moved on because I love the process of writing.

I think the endless enchantment of the end result deceives us. We feel it can’t be reached, we feel it must be a certain thing, or we can see it but not get there. But it misses that you just keep going keep trying, keep putting one metaphorical foot in front of the other, and write. Yes it may not be what you expected – it probably never is – but it’s done and out.

I also think this is why the fascination with AI is so powerful for some people. They imagine product dropped in their lap or made for them, ready for a bit of editing and then delivery. But the thing is that’s not the process, the real lives experience, the building of skill, the you saying something. It’s not about being a writer.

And if you want to be a writer, you embrace the process (sometimes gingerly) and write until you’re done. Or done enough. Or just disgusted so you toss it out into the world. But it’s done.

Steven Savage

See the Door Before You Open It

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Serdar and I were recently discussing how certain opportunities open doors for people. I noted that sometimes its not opening the door, it’s seeing it in the first place. We can’t open the door until we see it.

(We also want to see the door before opening it in case it’s a bad idea. But anyway, I don’t want to over-follow this metaphor).

This idea of “seeing the door” led me to think about a few examples from my own creative and professional life I wanted to share to illustrate the point.

Creatively, as some of my regular readers know, I do surrealist collage art under a pen name (art name?). I got into this via small press zines, originally just to add some decoration, but quickly got very into the collagist style. Now I’m using museum images, researching art history, and creating some truly strange and wild stuff – and learning about graphics and imaging tools and making new friends.

I’d never have thought of doing this except for, well, a series of events. Now I can see how I enjoy unusual art and such. I have done graphics before, but did I expect to pick up playing Max Ersnt in my 50s? No. However it all makes sense, filling my sense of curiosity, of creativity, and a desire to connect via creativity.

I didn’t see the door until I tried something different.

Career-wise, let’s talk laboratories. As folks know I work in medical research and education as a Project Manager. I got assigned to work on a project to set up some environmental monitoring for a lab, and after some research, found there was other work to be done as well. Suddenly I’m down the rabbit hole on environmental sensors, chemical testing, and equipment so heavy it needs special tables to use – and I’m having an incredible time.

Plus sometimes I wear a Geiger counter at work or get my shoes checked for hazmat.

I’d have never thought that, say, things like liquid nitrogen or worrying about sensor condensation were a thing for me. Yet, I found the world of lab setups exciting and stimulating, a whole new world that called on my organization skills, social skills, and science skills. What started as a chance assignment and my own hard-headed dedication to researching project needs has started to define my career.

I didn’t see the door until I tried something different.

The ability to see the door is just as important as being able to open it. Maybe moreso since we can’t open it until we see it (and if we can’t open it we can learn how to or break it down). To see the door to something more you have to try new things, experience new things, and get educated.

This is why education matters, why new experience matters, why knowing there are unseen doors matters.

I’m in or approaching middle age, depending on who you ask – but I keep going, the above things make me feel alive. I have friends who are the same, always finding new doors, always alive. I have older friends and family who keep finding new things and they have that spark.

Keep finding doors. Keep setting up situations so you can find new doors.

Steven Savage