Asterix the Gladiator
by Goscinny & Uderzo (Pilote, 1961-1962); trans. Anthea Bell & Derek Hockridge (Hodder & Stoughton, 1969)
A glorious plethora of puns and running gags, built around the conceit of Cacofonix the bard being kidnapped as a gift for Caesar. The physical humour is delightful (as always), and all the characters brim with personality, the historical setting exquisitely realised.
Tintin: King Ottokar’s Sceptre
by Hergé (Le Petit Vingtième, 1938-1939); re-drawn in colour (Casterman, 1947); trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Methuen, 1958)
Not as coherent as some of the later Tintin stories, nor as sublimely threaded with humour—though the Thom(p)son twins do offer some light relief from the conspiracy plot and death-defying Boy’s Own antics. Hergé’s attention to artistic detail continues to amaze.
Dracula
by Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffat (BBC, 2020)
While Gatiss taps his usual vein of humour, Moffat mainlines a bestial, genuinely horrific reworking of the Dracula legend—an entirely non-romanticised embodiment to which Claes Bang fully commits. Still more defining (and triumphant) is Dolly Wells as Sister Agatha Van Helsing.
Doctor Who: The Magic Mousetrap
by Matthew Sweet (Big Finish, 2009)
This has a distinct ‘Chimes of Midnight’ feel, and it’s nice to hear Big Finish try something other than run-of-the-mill. That said, some of the story elements are a little too affected in their oddness, favouring strangeness for the sake of it.
Obi-Wan Kenobi
dir. Deborah Chow (Disney+, 2022)
This six-episode miniseries serves almost single-handedly to rehabilitate the prequel trilogy, affording it weight and relevance through Kenobi’s character arc. The scripts do justice to Ewan McGregor’s acting talent. The peril feels real, despite that we know what happens to the protagonists.
The Empire Strikes Back
dir. Irvin Kershner (1980)
A remarkably satisfying feature, given that it’s mostly set-up for Return of the Jedi. The few thematic developments seem rushed, but the crises are compelling and the action and humour remain on-point. Yoda debuts as one of the all-time great film characters.
The Clock Strikes Twelve
by Patricia Wentworth (J. B. Lippincott, 1944)
audiobook read by Diana Bishop (Isis, 2010)
Wentworth cheats a little by employing an expurgated omniscient narrative to deflect attention. The ever-coughing Miss Silver is like a cuddly Miss Marple, and has the distinction of solving the murder as she goes, rather than keeping mum for a big reveal.
Luther: The Fallen Sun
by Neil Cross; dir. Jamie Payne (Netflix, 2023)
The manipulative, ‘hands off’ serial killer offers a point of difference (Andy Serkis, smilingly psychopathic). Still, Luther’s move from series to feature-length offers little to compensate for a pervading bleakness. Idris Elba is mostly consigned to staggering. Dermot Crowley brings some finesse.
Lucifer, Season 6
(Netflix, 2021)
What begins as a purely extraneous season, pulls itself into shape (through the addition of Rory and all the thematic strings her presence allows for) to become a surprisingly moving 10-episode finale, offering heart, humour and closure for characters and viewers alike.
Queenslayer
by Sebastien de Castell (Hot Key, 2019)
audiobook read by Joe Jameson (Hot Key, 2019)
Kellen remains resourceful (and de Castell ingenious in flipping him between frying pan and fire), but in the absence of Ferius Parfax becomes rather too insistent on self-sabotage. His inner bleakness adds a darker, more adult tone at the expense of escapism.