Welcome to the John Bleasdale Universe.
Please listen to my new podcast: Writers on Film. The first episode is an interview with Tom Shone, author of Blockbuster, Martin Scorsese a Retrospective and The Nolan Variations. Please listen and subscribe.
The John Bleasdale Universe is a collection of my writing from film criticism to fiction. It is also home to the Lynch Blog, BondBlog, Stanley KuBlog and the completed Steven SpielBlog, respectively a film by film examination of the films of James Bond and the careers of David Lynch, Stanley Kubrick and Steven Spielberg. I write mostly about film but also occasionally politics. My writing has appeared in The Times, The Financial Times, The Economist, The Guardian, The Independent, The Skinny, CineVue, Film School Rejects, Hotcorn, Sight and Sound and The What and the Why, as well as Il Manifesto in Italian and Film Bulletin in Swiss German. I attend many international film festivals, including Cannes, Venice, Macao, the Pingyao International Film Festival and Locarno.
Steven SpielBLOG
SpielBlog is a film-by-film soup-to-nuts rundown of the career of the most successful Hollywood director currently alive. It will take an irreverent but informed look at the work of the man who has defined fifty years of film making. It can be found here. |
Stanley KuBLOG
I'm writing a new complete soup to nuts film blog on the career of one of my favourite film makers Stanley Kubrick. It's called Stanley KuBLOG and can be found HERE.
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Buy from Amazon my new novel about the Peterloo Massacre. |
A bloody mix of murder, supernatural horror and the obsidian darkness at the heart of existence. Available on Kindle, CLICK HERE. Or CLICK HERE TO BUY THE PAPERBACK ON AMAZON.
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New Story: The Invasion of Sally Bowers
Day 1.
Georgie was brushing his mouth stones and I came in breezily and sat on the shit seat. ‘What are you doing?’ he said, glaring at me in the mirror.
‘Food outing,’ I told him.
‘Can’t you wait?’
‘Er,’ I said. ‘Yes, I suppose.’
I would have to be careful. I had made a mistake and the day was a mere four minutes and fifty-two seconds old.
Georgie was brushing his mouth stones and I came in breezily and sat on the shit seat. ‘What are you doing?’ he said, glaring at me in the mirror.
‘Food outing,’ I told him.
‘Can’t you wait?’
‘Er,’ I said. ‘Yes, I suppose.’
I would have to be careful. I had made a mistake and the day was a mere four minutes and fifty-two seconds old.
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About Me
My name is John Bleasdale. I'm a writer based in Italy. My work has appeared in a number of internet sites as well as The Independent and The Guardian as well as the Italian daily newspaper Il Manifesto. I've contributed chapters and essays to a number of books. Some of my reviews are collected at Rotten Tomatoes and you can also follow me on Letterboxd. |
