British horror legend Michael Gough dies at 94

The British actor Michael Gough has passed away at the age of 94.

The star of countless horror films was at his wild-eyebrowed best as over-the-top villains such as the sadistic crime writer Edmond Bancroft in Horrors of the Black Museum (1960) and the scheming impresario Lord Ambrose D'Arcy in the Hammer film The Phantom of the Opera (1962). He was a ham, but we loved him.

Among his other notable horror films were The Horror of Dracula (1958), Konga (1961), Dr Terror's House of Horrors (1965) and The Skull (1965). No doubt Gough's status as a cult icon in the horror genre led to Tim Burton's decision to cast him as butler Alfred in Batman (1989), a role he reprised in three sequels and on BBC radio.

Outside horror, his movie credits included The Man in the White Suit (1951), Ill Met by Moonlight (1957), Out of Africa (1985), Let Him Have It (1991) and Alice in Wonderland (2010).

Adieu and RIP, Michael Gough (1916-2011).

Ash Wednesday: You Only Live Once

The Ash Wednesday words "From dust you came and to dust you shall return" have particular resonance for this Anglican agnostic. You only live once; you're here and then you're gone; therefore "turn from sin and be faithful to Christ."

It's a call to seize the moment, to begin a quest to make our own meaning out of life's meaninglessness, turn away from the things that hinder us, do what we know we should do, live how we know we should live, and be as we know we should be. Why? Because we only live once. It's our one and only shot.

I wish there were a literal resurrection and that life really were a journey towards an afterlife, but I don't have any reason to think it is. The Lenten journey -- from Ash Wednesday's brutal confrontation with life's fleeting nature, through the agony of Maundy Thursday and the death of Good Friday, to the resurrection of Easter Sunday -- is a journey from meaninglessness to meaning, from the bare bones of existence to a life that matters.

Being Gay in Bible College: Part 1

At Bible College, I went to great lengths to avoid discussions of homosexuality, whether in the classroom or, ahem, out. I had known I was predominantly gay all of my adolescence, though I'd never stepped over the line and become a "practising homosexual." I'd tried to capitalize on the small percentage of me that was sexually and romantically attracted towards women. I worked hard to convince myself there was some important quality to my relatively minor heterosexual attractions that made them stronger than and superior to my homosexuality. In my mind, I was a heterosexual with some homosexual issues.

Ethics was a required course in my first year. The subject of homosexuality had occasionally been discussed in other classes. Even then I would start to sweat and squirm, terrified that my secret would be forced out of me, but the mention was usually brief, and I got through it. An entire three-hour class devoted to the topic would be unbearable, however. The mere announcement in the previous week's lecture immediately set my pulse racing and my mind turning over possible ways I could avoid attending.

I settled on pulling a sickie. I told my roommate I was feeling ill, and I holed up in my room, dreading a knock on the door. I spent three hours in turmoil. I couldn't stay inside forever, so I emerged from hiding later that day. The prospect of questions about my absence had me literally shaking as I prepared to face my friends. They did remark on my absence, but I doubt it truly raised any suspicions. Life in the closet had made me paranoid, constantly afraid that the slightest wrong move would give me away, crippled by the fear that people were analyzing every word and mannerism for evidence of homosexuality. Skipping class that day was an epic emotional event; it was a couple of weeks before I felt the air had cleared.

Another time, a Pentecostal pastor who claimed to be "ex-gay" visited the college to run a weekend men's workshop/renewal event, focused on male sexual issues. The scenario was the same: My anxiety increased as the day approached; I invented an excuse to avoid it; I trembled in the aftermath as I fought off the possibility of exposure. If anything, I suppose it was worse this time. Missing a lecture on homosexuality was mildly suspicious, but surely dodging another gay-related session was proof positive that I was in the closet?

There were times when the struggle became particularly fierce. There were emotional attachments and crushes. One passing infatuation led to such unconstrained lust that I became convinced a night of sickness was God's way of disciplining me. I laid on my bed in an intense, fever-fuelled delirium that actually made me wonder if I were experiencing the kind of delirium that makes people want to die. The following day, I reasoned that God had been punishing me, and I determined to learn my lesson.

I eventually decided I should confide in someone. I had only ever "come out" to three people. One was an anonymous counsellor at a Christian camp. Another was a newly converted Christian friend who had admitted to me quite candidly that he was gay. The third was my own pastor, who told me it was a passing phase and never mentioned it again.

I chose the right person to come out to. He was a tutor with a reputation as somewhat progressive compared to rank-and-file conservative Pentecostals. It took me a few minutes to get the words out, but he was patient. I portrayed my plight as being mostly straight but with some gay issues. We met several times. I'm certain he was wise enough to recognize that I was likely gay and going to remain that way; he expressed no surprise when, several years later, I wrote him to say, "I'm openly gay now, and I'm content." But when I first laid bare my orientation to him, he didn't suggest I get counselling or therapy. He didn't mention the possibility of change. I don't even remember him giving me advice, as such. Instead, he just listened to me each time and then prayed.

I'm not sure any of my tutors would have suggested reparative therapy -- psychiatric or psychological help intended to change sexual orientation -- though some might have referred me to a counsellor or Christian ministry and made a much bigger issue of my confession. Thankfully, I had a shrewd confidant and never found myself pushed into more formal attempts at fixing myself, as many in the ex-gay movement have.

In part two, I'll write about what happened when one of my closest college friends found out his brother -- a husband, father and long-time Pentecostal elder -- was leaving his family and coming out gay.

The Good Writing Blog

I've started gathering my thoughts on what makes good writing, along with practical tips about the craft. Visit, bookmark, subscribe to -- and, of course, learn from -- the Good Writing Blog.

Here's a few sample articles to get you started:

How to Pitch an Article to an Editor

Writerliness and Being Writerly

Formal v Informal Style in Writing: Knowing the Difference

And, if you're just starting out in the freelance world, here's a handy article I wrote a few months back on how to become a published writer.

Sondheim Announces Sweeney Todd Sequel

Sweeney is back after three decades, according to the genius behind the hit musical.

Composer and lyricist Stephen Sondheim has said that a sequel to the Broadway hit Sweeney Todd is in the works.

Lovett Never Dies will pick up where the 1979 original left off. While Sweeney fans assume the title character and his pie-making landlady, Mrs Lovett, died at the end of the first show, the follow-up reveals the pair were saved by a kindly cockney bootblack.

Sweeney disappears, but 10 years later, Mrs Lovett receives a letter from the mysterious "Mr T," a flamboyant New York barber-surgeon, inviting her to America to make pies.

Meanwhile, in the solitude of his vast barbering empire, Mr T will pine wistfully for Mrs Lovett's savoury goods, a yearning expressed in the show-stopping number Till I Eat Her Pie Once More.

"Die-hard purists will probably object to the new concept," said Sondheim, "especially the revelation that Sweeney and Lovett shared a night of passion among the pastries as they bled to what we all thought were their inevitable deaths."

Other songs in the musical will include Beneath a Spoonless Pie and Look with Your Tart.

Andrew Lloyd Webber will produce.

Bah, Gremlins!

I've been busy writing in a few different venues lately and, as it's the Christmas season, I've written a couple reviews of my favourite festive films.

First is Scrooge (1970). It's usually the first movie I get around to when December hits, and I still feel rather warm and fuzzy when the titles begin and I remember my first glimpse of the movie, back when I was a wee lad of five or six. Read the review here: Scrooge (1970): Film Review. I also penned a related piece, Who Was the Best Scrooge?, in which I review a handful of different actors in the role, including Alastair Sim (of course), Michael Hordern and Seymour Hicks. And lovers of linguistic trivia may find this article interesting: What Does 'Bah, Humbug!' Mean?

The second seasonal film is Gremlins (1984), which has a fun mix of holiday nostalgia, dark comedy and monster mayhem. Read the review here: Gremlins (1984): Movie Review.

Will Love Never Dies Survive Surgery?

You'd never get away with all this in a play,

But if it's loudly sung and in a foreign tongue ...

So went the lyrics to Prima Donna, a song in the original musical The Phantom of the Opera, now almost in its 25th year in London's West End. Andrew Lloyd Webber seems to have taken this bit of advice literally for his sequel, Love Never Dies, which has just undergone some major revisions, less than nine months after its opening.

The story of Love Never Dies, much to the chagrin of several die-hard "Phans," is far-fetched and out-of-sync with both the Gaston Leroux novel and Lloyd Webber's first show. It turns out (spoilers ahead) the Phantom shared a night of passion with Christine before fleeing to New York, and the result was a child. Now married to Raoul, who, over the course of a decade, has become an embittered drunk, Christine runs back into the Phantom's arms, and 10-year-old Gustave's true paternity is revealed.

With a few show-stopping numbers and some big set pieces thrown in, Lloyd Webber thought he could get away with this improbable story. And he probably still thinks he can, because the revision of the show hasn't changed any of the major details (you can read about Love Never Dies changes here).

The new version has apparently changed some of the lyrics, however. How grateful I am for that, for Glenn Slater's original libretto ranged from adequate to terribly banal. Even the best-sounding lyrics were flawed. "All America was there/Beggar next to billionaire," sang Madame Giry in the prologue (which has now been removed) -- except no billionaire existed in the United States until after WWI.

Giry then sang, "Every fantasy set free/Sodom rising by the sea" -- sounded catchy, but what a clumsy and inappropriate metaphor. Nothing fantastic or mesmerizing about Sodom, no matter which way you interpret the Bible. There was rape and social injustice, perhaps, but nothing particularly fun or enchanting. Even in popular culture, Sodom tends to be used as a metaphor for squalor and degradation, as in the brutally disturbing Pasolini film Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom. The metaphor is made all the sillier by the next number, which likens Coney Island not to Sodom but to a "little slice of heaven by the sea." Which is it? Ugh.

Other times, it is far too obvious that lyrics are being mangled to fit the tunes; unsurprisingly, since Lloyd Webber composed the melodies first and asked Slater to fit the lyrics around them. "Ten long years living a mere facade of life" -- "of life" simply fills space here. What else do you live but life? Here's another sample:

And the genius that designed it wears a mask!

A mask?

A mask!

But what's behind it?

What's behind it?

What's behind it?

What's behind it?

What's behind it?

Yes, the lines are so good they really deserve being repeated that many times. Oh dear. Later on in the same song we get this:

And a concert hall that's bigger than the Met!

What's inside it?

What's inside it?

What's inside it?

What's inside it?

Other songs, such as Look with Your Heart and the title song, Love Never Dies, are disappointing just in their banal sentimentality. It's not the simplicity that's the problem -- simplicity can work -- but that's it's so unbearably twee. Would it come as a surprise to know that before collaborating with Webber, the Slater was best-known for Disney films? Perhaps he excels at writing lyrics for children (I mean that sincerely), but I think it makes him a poor choice for this production.

I hope the new version has fixed some of the most noticeable problems with the lyrics. I admit, I'll still like the show, because, for all its faults, Lloyd Webber's score is stunning. He still has what it takes to write a hit musical. While Love Never Dies could never be a rival for The Phantom of the Opera, I predict it will survive, flaws aside.