Basil Wallace, we salute you!

The following is a dedication, a sincere tribute to a truly magnificent man. Ladies and gentlemen, please shut your yaps and doff your caps for a titan of the silver screen, an actor's actor, an unsung hero, a thespian for the ages…

Mr Basil Wallace.

Don't recognise the picture? Not to worry, he is, to be fair, a veritable chameleon of his trade. Case in point: you think those dreadlocks are his? My dear sweet peasant, you weren't to know - so versatile is Basil, he'd have you believe he was a basking shark if he so desired. Such is his gift. Such is his burden.

Never the show-boater, Basil prefers the quiet dignity of the video store to the gaudy cinema marquee. It is entirely fitting that his titles make their home on the humble 'lower' shelves, requiring that one respectfully curtsy in order to collect a masterwork from his choice oeuvre.

Part of the 'one week for a quid' range, neither I, nor the Penny Farthing Video Club understood the life-changing epiphany that was to occur as a result of picking up that dusty copy of 'Marked for Death'. I'm ashamed to admit it was frustration, not adoration, that caused me to decide on that particular title - a need to make a choice in the face of a rather underwhelming selection.

Steven Seagal has never been a favourite of mine – I always thought watching his particular brand of no-nonsense martial arts was like watching a humourless oaf playing patty-cake. This film looked a cut above though. Everything about it screamed class, from the dynamic pony-tailed silhouette, to the abundant use of crimson, to the bold metallic typeface - and on the back, an abstract where the author had obviously struggled not to use the phrase "with a vengeance" every single sentence.

I rented it, and it was watching this movie that for the first time I had the pleasure of witnessing Basil Wallace in glorious action, and take it from me, that's action spelled ACTION!

I must have been fifteen years of age or thereabouts. I wish I'd had the good sense to mark the exact date in a diary so I'd know now when to commemorate the anniversary of my spiritual rebirth, but I was young and twatty. I remember the occasion though. It was what was known as a 'video/vomit night', a regular Friday affair where the object was to watch a movie groaning with fly kicks, machete decapitation and lawnmower violence, and drink as much cheap wine as was necessary to ensure a swift, vocal excursion to the toilet (followed the next day by a headache that thrummed like an umbra).

As far as video/vomit movies were concerned I expected very little - in fact given the circumstances I was surprised to remember the tiniest sliver of plot come sunrise, let alone non A-list actors. Not this time though, no-siree, skippy. This time I watched something that simply could not be unwatched.

When Basil Wallace stepped on screen as crazy rasta 'Screwface', my life was forever altered. Here was a villain not to be *beep* with – a bug-eyed scenery masticator in the glorious tradition of old. The misguided fools in Hollywood may have proclaimed 'Marked for Death' a Steven Seagal picture, but it was the Basil Wallace show every inch of the way. Shining ten times brighter than any other actor on screen, Basil was incandescent as Seagal's counterpart. In short, he was the Laurence Olivier of Jamaican drug overlords.

This of course only made his inevitable comeuppance all the more disappointing. In the final showdown Seagal begins with a sword, slashing Basil across the face, then quickly follows up by gouging his eyes out before shoving him through a concrete wall and snapping the man's spine over his knee. You might think that would be sufficient evidence of defeat, but in case we were in any doubt Seagal then heaves Basil down an elevator shaft onto a rather improbable spike.

The movie had its problems. Time Out called 'Marked for Death':

"An ugly movie, with a lousy wardrobe."

You know a film's in trouble when the critic finds time to give the wardrobe department a mauling. The movie's shortcomings are no fault of Basil's though - he may have been let down by his director, maybe by his crew and his peers too, but Basil battled on regardless and delivered a simply stellar performance. It's a well known maxim in the business that when you hire Basil Wallace you get your money's worth.

Take Basil's greatest performance to date - the sci-fi extravaganza, 'Wedlock', starring Rutger Hauer and Mimi Rogers. To summarise the plot I'll crib from this convenient synopsis:

"Camp Holiday is a prison of the future. Each inmate has a "wedlock" collar that matches the collar of another inmate whose identity is unknown to them, and if one partner strays more than 100 yards from the other, the wedlock collars automatically detonate. When jewel thief Frank Warren (Hauer) discovers his wedlock partner in the form of fellow inmate Tracy Little (Rogers), the pair launch a successful prison breakout in search of Warren's stash of stolen jewels--with the police and his double-crossing partners in hot pursuit."

The inconsistencies in this film are legion. Firstly, it's built around a totally flawed premise. Why don't the collars simply explode when a prisoner strays 100 yards from the prison itself? Also, why is the solitary confinement of the future a spell in an isolation tank – a pastime people pay good money for? Lastly, what the hell is going on with Rutger Hauer's hair?

Only repeat viewings and terminal cynicism are likely to reveal these defects though, because while Basil is on screen all focus is on his performance. Playing prison screw Mr Emerald, Basil is a man possessed. I can only imagine the research he must have undertaken to nail such a despicable character – what must have been involved in making such a transformation possible. Or perhaps I'm wrong and he's more an actor of the Anthony Hopkins mould, dishing out vicious beatings one minute then laughing and joking with the crew the minute the camera stops rolling.I can only presume to understand Basil's method.

So what of the man himself?

I'm sorry to announce that precious little is known. Scour the internet yourself if you like, , there's more gossip on Benji the dog than Basil Wallace. The man doesn't even have a Wikipedia entry. He's a mystery, an enigma wrapped in a Kaiser Soze. Indeed, the closest I've come to understanding the world of Basil is this touching communiquÈ from an old acquaintance, left for all to read on the comments board right above my writings here:

"Basil invited me to see the play he was in…[he] was wonderful in the play and extremely funny. His acting had soar… The character fit him on stage, he to me became invisible and I laughed my ass-off at the character he was playing and the dialogue. At the time I did not understand why he asked me to sit in the rear of the theater. It became clear as the play went on. In the front, he would have lost focus with me and we may have ruined the play for others… After the play, he invited me to the cast party and that was a lot of fun being backstage in a theater with Bas….I had missed the theater, it felt good.

That was the last time I met with my friend more than 21 years ago. We exchanged numbers, but both of lives have changed. My friendship with Bas now only exists when I see him on the big and small screens. Through this vehicle of the Internet maybe some kind sole that may know how to get in touch with my friend will be kind and put us both together again. My friendship with him has been broke for to long and I do miss him.

Fraternally,

Edward Bourke, 718-671-6407

[email protected]

Work 212-386-1563 9a-5p

[email protected] "



We can only hope Edward is one day re-united with his friend, but in the meantime he'd be honoured to know that Basil has by no means left the world of acting - in fact, he features in a movie out in the cinema right now – 'Blood Diamond', starring alongside Leonardo De Cappuccino.

So spread the word, people - the cult of Basil starts here! Make haste to your video store and demand of your vendor a Basil Wallace movie, because whether you take home 'Return of the Living Dead III' or 'Free Willy 2', I promise you that Basil Wallace is the kind of man who could take a crap in a picnic hamper and it would still be the most riveting thing you saw all day.


www.davidbussell.com