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Sad to see that the great Lalo Schifrin has died. Yes, he did the Mission Impossible theme - and, of course, it remains one of the greatest TV or film themes ever - but Dirty Harry, Enter the Dragon, Starsky and Hutch…some of the coolest scores ever written.

I’m getting fed up with blockbusters taking themselves so seriously, and no doubt the next James Bond film will be no exception. I wrote for The Spectator how I wished that Denis Villeneuve would channel the spirit of Roger Moore’s 007 for his new one spectator.co.uk/article/james-…

‘Christopher Nolan, who is Jonathan’s brother’ is one of the funniest lines I’ve read in ages

Personally I wish someone at the Glastonbury Kneecap gig had shouted ‘Fuck the IRA’ but I suppose I’m old fashioned like that

There's been an awful lot of negative publicity about this year's Glastonbury, mainly courtesy of two controversial acts. However, as I've written for The Spectator today, the rest of it is testament to its standing as the greatest show in Britain - spectator.co.uk/article/take-m…

Well, I didn't have it on my bingo card for 2025 that Netflix's big, expensive, splashy romantic comedy would be about an Oxford academic grooming a student, but that's exactly what My Oxford Year promises to be. youtube.com/watch?v=EKQPCi…

The royal train is being retired as part of a cost-cutting exercise. I wrote for The Spectator about how this desire to subsume the more likeable parts of Britain's heritage to saving a few shekels sums up all that is wrong with this country in 2025. spectator.co.uk/article/the-ro…

I wrote about the frankly deranged-looking My Oxford Year, the new Netflix attempt to bring student grooming into the glossy romantic comedy, for The Spectator World. thespectator.com/book-and-art/w…

I can only urge everyone to see this film on the big screen, because it is, along with Lawrence of Arabia and Sex Lives of the Potato Men, the greatest cinematic experience that one can have.

I wrote about the late Michael Madsen for The Telegraph - the man who will always be the sadistic but strangely goofy Mr Blonde from Reservoir Dogs. telegraph.co.uk/films/0/michae…

I was happily reminded, reading Simon Armitage on Oasis, that Brett Anderson derided the band as ‘the singing plumbers’.

This is utterly fascinating, deeply researched stuff.

Must say that the Salt Path revelations have something of a touch of the Captain Toms to them.

Not entirely sure these gigs will be taking place.

One of the many, *many* things I've enjoyed about the Salt Path revelations is that I can't remember the last time that a piece of literary malfeasance made the front pages. Perhaps the Hitler Diaries? Certainly not James Frey.

Struck by Michael Buerk’s comments this morning on Radio 4 that the world has become ‘more selfish, more cynical and more stupid’ in the last 40 years. I don’t think he is wrong.

I didn't wake up today with any plans to launch a subscription-based newsletter, but it's 150 years since Harold Davidson was born, and so it just seemed the right sort of time. Here's the first one, subscribe if you'd like to read more.

I've also written about 13 things that shouldn't have worked in cinema (and did), and 13 things that had no hope of succeeding (and didn't). alexanderlarman.substack.com/p/13-things-th… And if any of this appeals further, do subscribe.

I saw the latest incarnation of the long-running, much beloved Operation Mincemeat last week. As I write for The Critic today, I am, unfortunately, something of an agnostic when it comes to its WWII japery. thecritic.co.uk/big-dumb-and-f…

What a phenomenal waste of talent