Esio Trot

In Roald Dahl’s glittering body of work Esio Trot is something of an anomaly. For a start, it is tiny; for another, it relegates children to the background, centring on two elderly protagonists. If you think of Grandma in George’s Marvellous Medicine and Trunhbull in Matilda, much of Dahl’s stories are about lampooning adults and criticising their supposed wisdom; but in this tall tale he goes against type, and instead of creating a carnival of grotesqueries draws a naturalist portrait of love – albeit one that features tortoises.

Being familiar with the novella from childhood, I was struck by how beautiful the TV adaptation was. Dahl’s Esio Trot is a lovely yarn but weighing in at 62 pages it is as flimsy as the book’s tortoise. In creating a ninety-minute film, Vicar of Dibley co-writers Richard Curtis and Paul Mayhew-Archer have stayed loyal to the source material whilst imbuing in it greater heft and emotional depth.

The adaptation starts with the narrator James Corden addressing the flirtation between two tortoises:

I don’t know about you but to me there’s something a bit funny about tortoises. The way even the teenagers are wrinkly. I bet that leads to some awkward moments.

 “Oh Brian, I love you so much. How old are you?”

“I’m 17. How old are you Janet?”

“I’m 86.”

“Goodness me, you’re old enough to be my Grandmother.”

“Yes, actually Brian. I AM your Grandmother.”

James Corden, a marmite personality. By that I mean I would have him on toast but not in a sandwich.

These narrative interludes are wonderful additions to Dahl’s book, as Corden’s puppy-dog enthusiasm helps sell a story that may otherwise appear too off-kilter for viewer empathy. And what a story!  This is a story of love. Perhaps the greatest love story ever told. Mr Hoppy (Dustin Hoffman), you see, lives in a flat. He is kind, shy and loves Jazz. Below him lives Mrs Silver (Judi Dench). Mrs Silver is widowed and has a laugh perhaps more inviting, perhaps more sonorous than Louis Armstrong himself.

Mr Hoppy has a secret. He loves Mrs Silver and wishes he could find a way of telling her. As far as he’s concerned though, Mrs Silver has eyes for just one man. Alfie. Her tortoise. Mrs Silver has a problem though: Alfie is infinitesimal. I mean, tiny. For a boy already with a shell on his back, being small is just another weight to bear. How can he walk tall when he isn’t? If only there was some way he could grow big? The delightful Mrs Silver would give anything for this to happen. Fortunately, Hoppy steps forward to be the corduroy Genie of the lamp. He informs Mrs Silver that all she has to do is read some profound nonsense three times everyday for a month and then abracadabra her wish will be realised.

ESIO TROT, ESIO TROT,
TEG REGGIB REGGIB!
EMOC NO, ESIO TROT,
WORG PU, FFUP PU, TOOHS PU!
GNIRPS PU, WOLB PU, LLEWS PU!
EGROG! ELZZUG! FFUTS! PLUG!
TUP NO TAF, ESIO TROT, TUP NO TAF!
TEG NO, TEG NO, ELBBOG DOOF!

Dame Judi talking to a tortoise.

Unfortunately, Hoppy hasn’t thought through this promise. How can he guarantee a tortoise will double its weight in a month? What use a silver tongue if it can’t deliver him the heart of Mrs Silver? As our narrator tells us, “For the first time ever the happiness of two human beings rested entirely on the possibility of a small tortoise becoming a bigger tortoise.”

Fear not. Love can make an Einstein out of an idiot; Hercules out of a rake; and love - in the case of Hoppy – can make a daredevil out of a scaredy-cat. Hoppy’s plan is to go cash-and-carry on the operation, buying tortoises of different size in bulk. Each day he replaces the tortoise with a slightly bigger one, giving off the illusion that Alfie is increasing in weight. Mrs Silver is none the wiser. This venture, however, isn't without costs - quite literally. All of Mr Hoppy's savings are invested into winning Silver's heart, a fact beautifully illustrated in a series of sight gags. Further, the trouble with this ingenious scheme is that it means his former life of order is transformed into a cluttered nightmare of chaos. Hoffman, who could shilly-shally for America, is brilliant as the put-upon bachelor trying to keep disorder under control.

Another example of over-crowding in London.

What makes the adaptation more enriching than the book are the sub-plots added to it. Dahl in his version makes the path to true love run smooth, but the writers here add dramatic obstacles that have us fearing the worst. Mr Pringle does not appear in the source material, but here the oaf is all too present, keeping the lovers from sealing their fate. Whilst Hoppy struggles to express his feelings, Pringle is all to ready to give his tuppenceworth. I hated every fibre of his being. The antipathy I held him in is a testament to Richard Cordery, who through his portrayal shows another, less dignified, side to loneliness.

Esio Trot was very much my pick of Christmas TV. It is beautifully written, performed and directed. It made my tummy go whoosh and my heart go boom. If you missed it, my advice would be to make a resolution and watch it.

Esio Trot is available on BBC iPlayer now.

Brookyln

My Christmas day tradition involves avoiding what my mum watches (Queen’s Speech, Call The Midwife and Downton Abbey) by reading a book. Typically, I sit down and read a comedian’s autobiography (see last week’s blog) but, not having read any fiction in a while, I decided to get my imagination on and read Brooklyn.

I’d been looking forward to reading Brooklyn off the back of Mark Kermode’s movie review.  In his appraisal he praised the film’s subtlety, commenting on how it managed to move the viewer without resorting to an X Factor score. Having missed the film at the picture house, I put the novel on the top of my Christmas wish list. Needless to say I’ve been a good boy this year and the man in the red fulfilled his end of the bargain by delivering me some prize-winning literature.

The story centres on Eilis Lacey, a young woman unable to find work in 1950s Ireland. She lives at home with her mother and sister, Rose. Brooklyn begins with Eilis admiring Rose from her bedroom window, musing on her sister’s sense of style and independence. Eilis as observer is a motif that runs throughout the novel: unable to shape her own destiny, she is passivity personified. The fact we don’t get frustrated with this wallflower owes much to Toibin’s characterisation.

Eilis is over-submissive to her fate, but her Ireland, we must remember, was a long way off from the Tiger’s roar; the economy was parochial, work was scarce. Therefore, Eilis’ acceptance to give up the home she loves for New York isn’t a show of weakness but a pragmatic solution to prospective unemployment. Moreover, Eilis as 1950’s woman was yet to enjoy the trappings of free love and feminist revolt; consequently, her inability to determine the course of her heart is more society’s failure than hers.

Eilis's small town home of Enniscorthy, Ireland.

What is most beautifully etched in the book is the immigrant experience. In today’s media migrant workers are often cast as villains, threats to the human race in a dystopian movie titled, ‘Invasion of the Job Snatchers.’ Perhaps a truer representation is Toibin’s description of people longing for home. For many of us, homesickness is a temporary state: the holidays will come and we’ll be re-united again. But for victims of poverty and war, returning mightn’t be an option; home may never be reclaimed. The realisation that home is now a foreign concept is poignantly captured by Eilis in Brookyln:

She was nobody here. It was not just that she had no friends and family; it was rather that she was a ghost in this room, in the streets on the way to work, on the shop floor. Nothing meant anything. The rooms in the house on Friary Street belonged to her, she thought; when she moved in them she was really there. In the town, if she walked to the shop or to the Vocational School, the air, the light, the ground, it was all solid and part of her, even if she met no one familiar. Nothing here was part of her. It was false, empty she thought.

Unanchored and adrift, she is a boat against the current, borne back ceaselessly into her past.

Eilis experiences the big city in Brooklyn, New York.

I should hasten to add that the book isn’t an unremitting howl for home. It has wonderful moments of humour too. You’ll struggle not to laugh at shopkeeper Miss Kelly’s less than egalitarian approach to serving customers; more at Eilis’ mother hypocrisy at welcoming visitors into her home then assassinating their characters on them leaving. Further with Eilis meeting two men – one in Brooklyn, one in Ireland – we learn that love is not always all-conquering, that separation can defeat it.

Ultimately, this is a wise, poignant book that makes you appreciate how some people, through character or circumstance, don’t have control over their lives. For those of us who do, we should be thankful and support those who don't.

Christmas Special: a list of 100 great things.

1.    Kanye West on a cherry picker.
2.     Baileys before bed.
3.     The wordplay of Len Goodman.
4.     A pub with a quiz machine.
5.     Dancing under the Christmas tree.
6.     Sleeping more.
7.     Prawns.
8.     Pig-gate. (It might not be true but it gave us all a lift.)
9.     The changing face of my packed lunch.
10.  Having a banana.
11.  Wadjda riding her bike.
12.  Sepp Blatter getting Al Capone’d by the Feds.
13.  Inside out.
14.  Dev’s dad in Master of None.
15.  Viv Albertine.
16.  Maxine Peake.
17.  Corbyn's stance on Syria.
18.  How the news beat the tabloids on refugees.
19.  Leicester being top of the league.
20.  The Ighalo 'scoop.'
21.  Watford surprising everyone.
22.  The Hairy Bikers curry recipe.
23.  The Comcom pod.
24.  Kermode's savaging of 'Entourage.'
25.  The people I work with.
26.  Lance’s gold dance.
27.  Rob protecting Sharon in the cinema.
28.  Mark and Soph in the ball pool.
29.  Alpen aiding and abetting my digestive tract.
30.  Leslie Knope's winning speech.
31.  Getting an answer right on University Challenge.
32.  Getting an answer right on Only Connect.
33.  Getting a parking space near the front door.
34.  Running along the canal.
35.  My preppy cardigan.
36.  Living with The Girl.
37.  Re-watching The Office.
38.  My mates marrying good eggs.
39. Every Brilliant Thing.
40.  Vanilla Latte.
41.  The Christmas Radio Times
42.  Any issue of The Radio Times.
43.  Daniel Kitson up a tree.
44.   Serial dropping a new episode.
45.  Imelda Staunton in Gypsy.
46.  The acting in This is England.
47.  The love of a good woman.
48.  The Invisible Dot.
49.  Discussing Socialism with teenagers.
50.  Cards against Humanity.
51.  Having friends over to the flat.
52.  My brother living with someone he actually knows.
53.  June and Leon.
54.  Choosing the right tree.
55.  Realising the shop sells cream soda.
56.  Going to The Odyssey.
57.  Still loving Romeo and Juliet.
58.  Train changes timed to perfection.
59.  Seeing the Eiffel Tower at night.
60.  That caricaturist who said he was going to be kind but was anything but.
61.  Old schoolmates together for a Madrid state wedding.
62.  “Here’s, Carol with the weather.”
63.  Long drives for album listening.
64.  Dec playing the biggest gig of his life.
65.  JP being happy. 
66.  Discovering holidays abroad aren't all that bad.
67.  My car getting its annual stay of execution.
68.  A fridge that speaks of opportunity.
69.  The kettle on after work.
70.  Friday evenings where everything seems possible.
71.  The last book in the pile.
72.  Grayson Perry.
73.  Having a bit of time to read.
74.  Getting things done in the morning.
75.  Looking up at the Sistine Chapel.
76.  Visiting Bristol.
77.  Living with someone who accepts the notion of a bedside lamp.
78.  Having a bath.
79.  Watford being on Match of the Day.
80.  The Neville brothers in Spain.
81.  Teaching my class Bill Murray.
82.  Thinking a vegetarian breakfast is no bad thing.
83.  Living near water.
84.  Being in the shape of my life. (Worryingly. I'm still not in great shape.)
85.  Accepting my hair has gone and moving on.
86.  Still not learning my lessons about tequila.
87.  Richard Herring's emergency questions.
88.  The Durham girl's wit on Gogglebox.
89.  The Staff Christmas Party or ‘Contraband in The Greek.'
90.  Mulled wine.
91.  Having a partner that agrees Woody Allen quotes constitute home improvement.
92.  Getting older and growing less conservative.
93.  George Alagiah.
94.  The name George Alagiah.
95.  Beating Liverpool.
96.  The last bell on a Friday.
97.  Falafels.
98.  Pemberton and Shearsmith.
99.  My Nectar card.
100. Writing this blog.