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One thing that has occurred to me often since my recently renewed interest in my local cinema is the fact that the construction of film trailers has, in its own way, become as much of an art as the making of the films themselves. To the extent that the average quality of film trailers is currently much higher than that of films.

In other words, the vast majority of trailers are better than the films they are advertising. And if that idea sounds a little far-fetched, think about how many times you’ve come out of a cinema thinking “hmmm…it wasn’t as good as it looked in the trailer…”

This applies particularly to big budget Hollywood fare, largely because you get to see all the exciting explosions without having to sit through the badly-written talky bits. A particularly notable example would be Godzilla, which constructed its four different trailers essentially as short films, beautifully tense and full of character but without the excesses (which is a polite way of saying crapness) of the film itself. I’d say the trailers for the Lord of the Rings films are also far more watchable than the films, because they’re shorter (and it turns out the Howard Shore actually did just about write enough music to cover a two minute trailer without getting unbearable, so well done him).

Same goes for the current relentlessly reworked American teen/spoof/gross-out comedies – the advantage of a trailer is that you can show all the funny bits in quick succession and people are left thinking it’s going to be the funniest film ever, whereas in fact it’s just all the jokes you’ve already seen spun out by a couple of hours. Barry Norman often used the example of The Nutty Professor to demonstrate his point, having laughed his socks off during a ten-minute preview and been utterly appalled when he finally saw the whole film. (I would point out that if you see a trailer for a comedy of this nature which is not funny, it bodes very badly for the film indeed. If you happen to glimpse the trailer for Date Movie you’ll see what I mean.)

A less mainstream example that springs to mind is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – the film might have been pleasant enough viewing with occasionally inspired moments, but those of us who have been listening repeatedly to the original radio series since the womb were all uncomfortably aware of what the film was missing. The trailer, however, was done as a Guide entry on film trailers which managed to send up the Hollywood format beautifully – and stood out as two minutes of material that was actually worthy of Douglas Adams. “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about movie trailers,” Stephen Fry announces, taking us through the opening stages of a trailer (“often this section is preceded by the words ‘in a world’…”) all the way through to “lastly there is a final montage, often accompanied by rock music that is simply designed to blow away whatever synapses you have left in your brain.” When I first saw it I almost wept with excitement over a film that turned out not to be in the least bit worthy of any tears.

Oh, and speaking of Stephen Fry, there’s the trailer for Gosford Park, which is actually a trailer for a completely different film in which the short bit featuring Fry’s detective has been expanded to make him the main character; as such it makes the film come across as a raucously funny British slapstick romp. I remember a cinema full of people virtually applauding it when it came out. I also remember being a bit disappointed by a film which, though full of magical moments and beautiful ensemble acting, is altogether less hilarious (and also less consistent) than the trailer suggested it would be.

Oh, I could go on… The Passion of the Christ, because in the space of the trailer the violence is genuinely horrific and not just ridiculous. Possibly even Wallace and Gromit and the Curse of the Were-rabbit, again because it contains all the best jokes from the film but mainly because it has Tom Baker’s voice on it.

It’s almost de rigeur for DVDs of films to come with the trailers these days. How long before we get compilation DVDs of just trailers? Could that be the modern equivalent of those old compilation films in the It’s a Carry On vein? Perhaps directors will even start making trailers without films to accompany them, in much the same way as when Jorge Luis Borges had an idea for a novel he’d just write a review of it to save himself the effort of writing the novel itself.

Since I’m on the subject of films, I’ve also started making a list of films I shall never see on principle. They currently stand at the following five:

The Da Vinci Code (and I’ll be starting a club for people who wish to join me in feeling superior)
The Wicker Man remake (no Christopher Lee in a dress? not interested)
The Ladykillers remake (I love the Coen brothers dearly, but what were they thinking???)
The Pink Panther remake (it’s not like the original is a great film to begin with – but Steve Martin as a Peter Sellers for the 21st century? perleeese…)
Matrix Revolutions (as it is I’m pissed off that I wasted three hours of my life watching the first sequel)

I know that’s not a long list, but like the Pope’s list of forbidden works, I think it’s essentially a pretty negative thing to have films that one won’t see on principle. That said, life’s too short to waste on rubbish, and I feel my choices pretty much justify themselves. If you have any suggestions for further films I should avoid, I will certainly consider them.

Why is it that when you watch a short film there’s a pretty good chance it will have plinky minimalist xylophone music running through it?

You know – it can’t quite decide whether it’s comic or tense, so just sort of picks its way along going “plink – plinky plink plink – plink plink” with a slightly artificial sound and a lot of reverb.

Perhaps there’s just a lot of royalty-free minimalist xylophone music out there. Perhaps half the people composing for films secretly wish they were Philip Glass. Perhaps it’s meant to be alienating. Either way, I wonder if it is one of the key reasons why short films are not taken more seriously.

Apart from anything else it means they all feel exactly the same. You hear the plinky xylophone music begin and think, “ah, it’s an arty short film” – and unless you’re very patient, you turn it off.

I love short films, and even I sometimes turn them off when the plinky xylophone music begins.

If I were to add to the millions of websites giving advice about “making your short” (which I have no intention of doing), my first point would be “don’t use plinky minimalist xylophone music, you might ruin an otherwise excellent piece of film”.

That said, if I were giving advice to Hollywood film makers I’d have similar things to say about Howard Shore and James Horner, but I don’t suppose anybody would take any notice of me.

For reasons of immodesty, I ought to mention that The Rise and Fall of Deon Vonniget has been rather flatteringly reviewed on the Rogues and Vagabonds website – you can read the review here.

Fellow performers will see at once that it is emminently quotable, with gems such as “panache and charm that can veer uncomfortably on the side of manic paranoia and pathological ineptitude”, or the simple and straightforward “Lark is engaging from beginning to end”. But my favourite bit is this:

“Lark’s easy manner enchanted the female members of the audience and left us males gobsmacked at his nerve and unbelievable success with women.”

Evidently, I had a good valentine’s day after all.

I had a long and heated argument with Phil Stott this evening about Pink Floyd, which somehow ended in him telling an anecdote that finished with the sentence “so at some point in his life, Mick Hucknall has woken up with a big poo on his chest!”

Phil then tried to light the wrong end of a cigarette, which was both demeaning for him and undermined his whole argument about Pink Floyd being dull. Should think so too.

I’ve just discovered that if you play John Lennon’s hatefully dull Imagine at high speed, it becomes a comic song with infinitely more entertainment value. Maybe that’s what he intended all along?

He’s going to get teased at school.

I had a horrendous dream that we were doing Impromime and Andrew Ormerod suddenly decided during the get-in that he wanted a random housemate of his called John to have a go at being the dame. (John had black-rimmed glasses and blond floppy hair and I do not think he exists in real life. Do correct me if I’m wrong.)

John had a big, camp personality so I could see why Andrew wanted to try him out as the dame, though I was infuriated because it was my turn. In any case, once John got on stage he became all shy and reserved and didn’t speak nearly loud enough to be heard. I kept shouting “louder!” at him, but Andrew Pontzen thought I meant him so he kept turning up the volume on the piano, which obviously made the situation worse.

Finally I made John stop and, to show I wasn’t the only creative director with ideas for new dames, I asked Sylvester McCoy if he wanted to have a go at being the dame.

Sylvester McCoy was incredibly funny and we laughed and laughed and laughed, but unfortunately we felt that he wasn’t really playing by the rules of narrative so we promised him a chance to work on it in rehearsals and I got to be the dame after all.

It all felt so real…

Red faces in the Lark household last night. I had a friend round and we watched a very fine film called Mysterious Skin – highly recommended, by the way. My housemate had left me us to our dinner and DVD, but happened to arrive home just in the middle of the film’s (one) particularly graphic and nasty anal rape scene. So it looked as though we were huddled in the dark watching violent gay porn.

I was reminded of how whenever I used to try and watch a James Bond film in my teens, one of my parents would inevitably burst in just when Bond was getting it on with somebody.

Of course, James Bond never anally raped anybody (except perhaps in the Timothy Dalton ones, which I still haven’t seen). But the embarrassment factor was similar.

Valentine’s day is coming up, and if you’re anything like me you’ll have come to dread this annual attack on the self-esteem of all romance-deprived singletons.

However, I feel I must point out that this year there is no need at all to feel lonely on Valentine’s day, because I am doing a show at 7.30 to which anyone and everyone is warmly invited. Just think – instead of sitting on your own you now have the opportunity to spend the evening with me, in a non-sexual but still very intimate performer-audience relationship.

If that doesn’t sound good enough I’ll try and hitch you up with one of my friends after the show.

Not that couples are excluded – a more romantic evening I could not imagine, at least outside Italy. A couple of my friends, who have been together for probably five years or more, have decided to forgoe an expensive evening of champagne and sweet nothings and spend it at the Canal Cafe Theatre instead. Let that be a lesson to you all.

If you can’t come you could at least send me flowers.

Britney Spears has been criticised after paparazzi caught her “driving with her baby on her lap”.

Close inspection of the photograph, however, reveals that the criticisms are unfounded. Look at Britney – she’s relaxing back into the headrest, her eyes aren’t even on the road. It’s clear that she isn’t the person driving the car at all – the baby is.

Yes, the baby has oddly muscular arms. But if his arms are that well-developed, there’s no reason why his brain shouldn’t be as well – you can see the concentration on his face as he motors along. Who’s to say that he hasn’t already passed his driving test?

On the other hand, if he hasn’t passed his driving test and Britney is lying about having been “driving with a baby to escape the paparazzi” just to cover up for her son, then that is wrong. Very wrong.