Beverly Hills Cop
dir. Martin Brest (1984)
Character driven and more tightly scripted than many action comedies of the time, Beverly Hills Cop nevertheless soared as much on the strength of its soundtrack as the likeable sass of Eddie Murphy’s jeans- and sneakers-wearing, culturally confrontational police detective Axel Foley.
Lucky Luke: The Bounty Hunter
by Morris & Goscinny, trans. Erica Jeffrey (Cinebook Ltd, 2010)
[from Chasseur de primes, Dargaud Editeur Paris, 1972]
One could argue that Lucky Luke (‘the man who shoots faster than his own shadow’) lacks the personality of Goscinny’s Asterix characters, but there’s no denying the humour derived from pitting his laidback cowboy aplomb against a frontier bounty hunter’s grasping wiles.
Jonathan Creek, Series 2
by David Renwick (BBC, 1998)
Series Two showcases quality guest stars and perfectly pitched mysteries: perplexing enough to flummox investigative journalist Madeline Magellan (played with distinctive moxie by Caroline Quentin), yet fully satisfying when unravelled by magician’s consultant Jonathan Creek, whom Alan Davies embodies with shaggy-dog sangfroid.
Agaton Sax and the Haunted House
by Nils-Olof Franzén; illustrated by Quentin Blake (Andre Deutsch, 1975)
Bolstered by Blake’s zesty drawings, Franzén gives YA readers the perfect introduction to crime fiction. His irrepressibly competent Swedish detective Agaton Sax, along with the harried, hapless Inspector Lispington, form a memorable duo fighting the bumbling wiles of the international criminal fraternity.
Monkey: Journey to the West
by Wu Ch’êng-ên, trans. Arthur Waley (Allen & Unwin, 1942)
For all its mischievousness and whimsy, this episodic sixteenth century Chinese fairy tale comes across as terribly belaboured in written form. When slogging through 350 pages it’s hard not to think that even Wu Ch’êng-ên would have preferred the cult television show.
The Gruffalo
by Julia Donaldson, ill. Axel Scheffler (Macmillan, 1999)
The rhyming couplets don’t always flow, but the word and plot repetitions are effective and Scheffler’s illustrations bring a bright, magical cheeriness to what otherwise might be an anxious tale of a mouse living off its wits in the deep, dark wood.
The City of Gold and Lead
by John Christopher (Macmillan, 1967)
The second instalment of John Christopher’s Tripods trilogy moves from quest narrative to absorbing, fully fledged science fiction as youngsters Will and Fritz infiltrate one of the aliens’ cities and learn the awful truth of the Masters whose tripods roam the Earth.
The Wicked Wiles of Iznogoud
by Goscinny & Tabary (Cinebook, 2008)
[first published as “Les complots d’Iznogoud”, Dargaud Editeur Paris, 1967]
Six pun-filled tales from ancient Baghdad as the wicked protagonist Iznogoud (think Dick Dastardly) is repeatedly thwarted in his nefarious plans to depose the caliph. Goscinny’s imagination is clearly in evidence but the stories lack the scope of his writing for Asterix.
Blind Fury
dir. Phillip Noyce (1989)
A quintessentially 1980s Americanisation of the blind swordsman storyline oft-used and beloved of Japanese cinema. Rutger Hauer brings a certain quality to the lead role and — with precious little help! — just about carries the uneasy mix of action, drama and (occasional) humour.
Come, Hunt an Earthman
by Philip E. High (Hale, 1973)
Told in straightforward language, with pulp optimism and unambiguous views on right and wrong, High’s coming-of-age novel (humanity, that is, after first being preserved as game for alien hunters) has both reread value and more ideas crammed in than an Asimov trilogy.