A little over 4 years ago, some fellow Movie Geeks and I decided to put our money where our mouths were and actually get about the business of filmmaking. We called ourselves "No Hands Films." Together, we have so far completed two short independent horror films, the second of which - a modern-day "zombie version" of Homer's "The Odyssey" - I can now shamelessly show off here via the miracle of YouTube and my younger brother, Chris, who got it uploaded in 4 parts (image-quality is somewhat degraded from the original, as it is after all Internet video) and also did the bulk of the editing work on the movie-proper.
Happy Halloween.
Part ONE:
That's our omni-talented writer/director/star Tim Luz, my best friend, as the lead zombie. (full listed credits are end the end of Part Four and listed on the actual YouTube page) He came up with the stories and scripts that both completed "No Hands" productions have been filmmed from so far. Tim's brother Nick, Melissa and CJ, friends of the production, are the other three. That's my little bro, Chris, as the cop. The (really terrific-looking, even at this resolution I think) makeup FX were handled by Kristen Juliano, a lovely and ridiculously talented young woman who just delivered like gangbusters the whole production. This opening was shot on-location at a real old-as-hell cemetary we found just sitting randomly in a semi-developed field. Creepy as hell, honestly.
Part TWO:
The little zombie girl who gets taken out here is my kid sister, Catie. Of the Zombie Hunters, my brother's pals Jason and Jared are the "cowboy" and the "soldier" respectively, "No Hands" charter-member Casey Malone as "yuppie" and that's your's truly as the one-eyed axe-wielder. "Roger," the leader in the long black coat, was played by Jeremy Soltys, a founding member of "No Hands" who is, quite simply, a fantastic actor with real screen presence. He's great in this, seriously. There's a "splatter on the lens" gag here that works great, but was actually an on-set mishap we opted to keep. Kristen handled the majority of the gore-FX here, while Chris and I provided the opticals for the gunfire. Jeremy provided the awesomely-realistic prop guns, which really helped sell this.
Part THREE:
That's Michelle Tentindo as "Penny," another good friend of the production who did a great job. Believe it or not, about the entirety of this in-house sequence was shot (on-set makeups and all) in about a day, which is pretty amazing. The score, BTW, was provided by an ultra-talented fella named Mike Beaudoin; while the hard-rock song comes courtesy a local band called "On The 3."
Part FOUR:
So there you have it. We actually had our first theatrical showing of this over Halloween Weekend here in Salem, and it went over pretty damn well. We're all really proud of this, and I hope you've enjoyed seeing it as much as we did making it ;)
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Saturday, 27 October 2007
SHORT FEATURE: HISTOR'S EYE - THE LOTTERY
According to the Catechism "Games of chance (card games, etc.) or wagers are not in themselves contrary to justice. They become morally unacceptable when they deprive someone of what is necessary to provide for his needs and those of others. The passion for gambling risks becoming an enslavement."
"A lottery is one of the aleatory contracts and is commonly defined as a distribution of prizes by lot or by chance." says the 1912 Catholic Encyclopedia. "It is obviously a kind of gambling if considered from the point of view of the contributories; by the directors it is sometimes used as a means of raising money. Morally it is objectionable if carried to excess as it tends to develop the gambling spirit and distract people from earning a livelihood by honest work. However, if there is no fraud of any sort in the transaction, and if there is some sort of proportion between the price of a ticket and the value of a chance of gaining a prize, a lottery cannot be condemned as in itself immoral."
A 2005 Los Angeles Times story noted that "the big lottery numbers in Italy these days are 21 and 37: On the international clock they correspond to 9:37 p.m., the time John Paul II died. "Lotto playing is up 70 percent since the pope's death," said Shamir, who advises his clients on what numbers to pick. " At the moment the pope has taken over the calculations of the game. Everyone is betting his numbers." No word yet on if JPII has come through for anyone playing the numbers. I don't think that would count towards canonization anyway.
"A lottery is one of the aleatory contracts and is commonly defined as a distribution of prizes by lot or by chance." says the 1912 Catholic Encyclopedia. "It is obviously a kind of gambling if considered from the point of view of the contributories; by the directors it is sometimes used as a means of raising money. Morally it is objectionable if carried to excess as it tends to develop the gambling spirit and distract people from earning a livelihood by honest work. However, if there is no fraud of any sort in the transaction, and if there is some sort of proportion between the price of a ticket and the value of a chance of gaining a prize, a lottery cannot be condemned as in itself immoral."
A 2005 Los Angeles Times story noted that "the big lottery numbers in Italy these days are 21 and 37: On the international clock they correspond to 9:37 p.m., the time John Paul II died. "Lotto playing is up 70 percent since the pope's death," said Shamir, who advises his clients on what numbers to pick. " At the moment the pope has taken over the calculations of the game. Everyone is betting his numbers." No word yet on if JPII has come through for anyone playing the numbers. I don't think that would count towards canonization anyway.
Friday, 26 October 2007
INTERMISSION: HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN
Well, it's that time of year. A time for pumpkins, for getting treats, for dressing in costumes. That's right. It's time for the annual Hallowed Be His Name Fall Festivals at your finer protestant churches! It's also that time of year we see quotes like this one from Jerold Aust of The United Church of God. "Halloween is anything but harmless. It focuses one's attention on witchcraft and demonism, which flies in the face of the holy God Almighty! When parents not only allow but also encourage their children to celebrate witches and goblins, they are teaching them that it's acceptable to deal in demonism."
There's no denying that a few people (usually teens) with an interest in the occult find some of the darker imagery accompanying Halloween especially enticing and will use it to further their obsession. But does that mean we abandon the holiday altogether? From a Catholic perspective, the answer isn't as simple as trotting out a couple of Bible verses and calling the whole thing off. (We do have that whole All Souls Day thing to take into account after all.) For anyone who hasn't made up their mind on the subject of Halloween and wants to do some quick reading on the topic, a good starting point is the Catholic Update article How Halloween Can Be Redeemed by Page McKean Zyromski. It briefly discusses the pagan origins of the celebration, the Church's efforts to Christianize the event, the Christian-tinted superstition behind trick or treating, the origins of the jack o' lantern, and the positive lessons we can draw from the holiday itself. For the Catholic, this holiday, like any other day, isn't about retreating in fear, but rather using our (properly developed) discernment to find what (if anything) exists in the event that points towards our relationship with God. So go check out the article, it's a good primer.
For our part, we here at The B-Movie Catechism would rather light a candle than curse the darkness. (Which is a good thing. Being Catholic we tend to have a lot of candles lying around.) As a service to those who would rather steer away from some of the more suspect imagery floating around out there, but are tired of the same old shepherd or prophet costumes year after year, we offer up five wardrobe suggestions based on some of the classic movies we've reviewed. They're guaranteed to be a hit while avoiding any hint of those nasty witches and devils.
EEGAH from Eegah! A perennial favorite around these parts. While Biblical literalists might at first be hesitant to wear this due to Eegah's caveman-like appearance, keep in mind that the movie suggests a possible link to the Nephilim, so you're covered. A big stick and a fake beard is all that's necessary for a truly eye-catching ensemble. Dead goats are optional.
ZORK from Deafula. While the titular star of the movie would make an interesting costume choice himself, we believe that vile henchman Zork is the true scene-stealer from Deafula. Born in an alternate universe where everyone speaks in sign language, yet cursed by God for his terrible sins to to be handless. At the end of the night you can even offer a lesson in redemption when you remove your cans.
RO-MAN XJ2 from Robot Monster. A goldfish bowl and an old fur coat (faux fur acceptable) is all you need to bring this scouge of humankind to life. God promised he would never again end the world by deluge, but that leaves an infinite (-1) number of possibilities for what could happen in the future. Theoretically, that includes extraterrestrial ape-bots. An added bonus to this costume is the ability to use your head to hold your candy.
THE REVEREND ESTUS W. PIRKLE from The Burning Hell. As noted in the review, this is a guy who (literally) scared the hell out of people in the early 70s. Part of a dying breed due to the rise of the mega-churches, this bundle of fire and brimstone can still deliver a fistful of the fear of God when necessary. For full authenticity be sure to bring along a bowl of cooked spaghetti so unwitting sinners can thrust there hands in it and experience a terrifying preview of the worms, the tormenting worms!
TARANTELLA from Mesa Of Lost Women. Attitude is everything in this get-up, ladies. While the clothing itself instills little fear, watch in awe as grown men flee in terror while you perform the deadly Dance of the Spider outside their doors. Dressed as one of Dr. Aranya's genetically mutated amazon spider-women, you too can be the living embodiment of "the wages of sins (of the flesh) is death."
That's it for this year. We hope we've been of service. Happy Happy Halloween everybody!
There's no denying that a few people (usually teens) with an interest in the occult find some of the darker imagery accompanying Halloween especially enticing and will use it to further their obsession. But does that mean we abandon the holiday altogether? From a Catholic perspective, the answer isn't as simple as trotting out a couple of Bible verses and calling the whole thing off. (We do have that whole All Souls Day thing to take into account after all.) For anyone who hasn't made up their mind on the subject of Halloween and wants to do some quick reading on the topic, a good starting point is the Catholic Update article How Halloween Can Be Redeemed by Page McKean Zyromski. It briefly discusses the pagan origins of the celebration, the Church's efforts to Christianize the event, the Christian-tinted superstition behind trick or treating, the origins of the jack o' lantern, and the positive lessons we can draw from the holiday itself. For the Catholic, this holiday, like any other day, isn't about retreating in fear, but rather using our (properly developed) discernment to find what (if anything) exists in the event that points towards our relationship with God. So go check out the article, it's a good primer.
For our part, we here at The B-Movie Catechism would rather light a candle than curse the darkness. (Which is a good thing. Being Catholic we tend to have a lot of candles lying around.) As a service to those who would rather steer away from some of the more suspect imagery floating around out there, but are tired of the same old shepherd or prophet costumes year after year, we offer up five wardrobe suggestions based on some of the classic movies we've reviewed. They're guaranteed to be a hit while avoiding any hint of those nasty witches and devils.
EEGAH from Eegah! A perennial favorite around these parts. While Biblical literalists might at first be hesitant to wear this due to Eegah's caveman-like appearance, keep in mind that the movie suggests a possible link to the Nephilim, so you're covered. A big stick and a fake beard is all that's necessary for a truly eye-catching ensemble. Dead goats are optional.
ZORK from Deafula. While the titular star of the movie would make an interesting costume choice himself, we believe that vile henchman Zork is the true scene-stealer from Deafula. Born in an alternate universe where everyone speaks in sign language, yet cursed by God for his terrible sins to to be handless. At the end of the night you can even offer a lesson in redemption when you remove your cans.
RO-MAN XJ2 from Robot Monster. A goldfish bowl and an old fur coat (faux fur acceptable) is all you need to bring this scouge of humankind to life. God promised he would never again end the world by deluge, but that leaves an infinite (-1) number of possibilities for what could happen in the future. Theoretically, that includes extraterrestrial ape-bots. An added bonus to this costume is the ability to use your head to hold your candy.
THE REVEREND ESTUS W. PIRKLE from The Burning Hell. As noted in the review, this is a guy who (literally) scared the hell out of people in the early 70s. Part of a dying breed due to the rise of the mega-churches, this bundle of fire and brimstone can still deliver a fistful of the fear of God when necessary. For full authenticity be sure to bring along a bowl of cooked spaghetti so unwitting sinners can thrust there hands in it and experience a terrifying preview of the worms, the tormenting worms!
TARANTELLA from Mesa Of Lost Women. Attitude is everything in this get-up, ladies. While the clothing itself instills little fear, watch in awe as grown men flee in terror while you perform the deadly Dance of the Spider outside their doors. Dressed as one of Dr. Aranya's genetically mutated amazon spider-women, you too can be the living embodiment of "the wages of sins (of the flesh) is death."That's it for this year. We hope we've been of service. Happy Happy Halloween everybody!
NOW SHOWING AT A BLOG NEAR YOU: BELLA
It's pretty obvious that the movie buzz throughout the Catholic blogosphere this week revolves around the release of Bella, a film which is not only winning awards at various festivals but apparently carries a pro-life friendly message as well. I've already mentioned previously Fr. V's glowing review of Bella over at Adam's Ale (I wonder if he got to see it again like he wanted?), but now others are beginning to chime in.
Nolan Reynolds from Rise Of The TOB shares Fr. V's high opinion of the film. "I like explosions and special effects, but I like it with a dose of meaning and a sound message. While Bella isn't the type of movie to warrant CGI or expert stunt men, it is a movie I fell in love with for its gripping story and brave theme."
Over at Arrival: The Parousian Weblog, Sarah Metzhasn't hasn't seen the movie yet, but just seems happy that the film even exists. "Whether we like it or not, movies are often more influential on people’s lives than literature is, and it is therefore time to step up and establish a current Catholic presence in the film industry."
The American Papist has a full page of Bella related goodness which not only links to his own favorable review of the film, but also to lots of non-blog sites addressing the movie and its issues.
If all this sounds a little over-hyped for your tastes, then you might prefer Barbara Nicolosi's opinion of the whole Bella-thing at Church Of The Masses. She admits she only saw the movie in rough-cut form a year ago, but isn't convinced the finished product will be any better. "I don't know what they were smoking at Toronto, but I suspect that the film was well-received there because of its occasionally charming images of a Latino family, but mainly because of the fact that Bella, regardless of what is being said about it, is ambiguous on the subject of abortion."
Now that the film is coming to screens outside of the festival circuit, I'm sure we'll be seeing more reviews popping up on Catholic blogs over the next few weeks. It's also going to be interesting to see if the producer's media blitz can garner the movie a wide release. Which brings me to this:
Apparently I'm averaging enough hits now that the viral marketers are beginning to think it's worthwhile to include me in their mailings. So, over the past two weeks I've received a couple of emails asking me to help promote small independent releases. One is Believers, a direct-to-dvd horror movie about a religious cult made by one of the Blair Witch guys. It's in the Netflix queue, so maybe I'll review it at some point. The other, as you may have guessed, is Bella. It's possible many of you out there may have received the same email, but just in case you didn't, here's the main body of it.
Nolan Reynolds from Rise Of The TOB shares Fr. V's high opinion of the film. "I like explosions and special effects, but I like it with a dose of meaning and a sound message. While Bella isn't the type of movie to warrant CGI or expert stunt men, it is a movie I fell in love with for its gripping story and brave theme."
Over at Arrival: The Parousian Weblog, Sarah Metzhasn't hasn't seen the movie yet, but just seems happy that the film even exists. "Whether we like it or not, movies are often more influential on people’s lives than literature is, and it is therefore time to step up and establish a current Catholic presence in the film industry."
The American Papist has a full page of Bella related goodness which not only links to his own favorable review of the film, but also to lots of non-blog sites addressing the movie and its issues.
If all this sounds a little over-hyped for your tastes, then you might prefer Barbara Nicolosi's opinion of the whole Bella-thing at Church Of The Masses. She admits she only saw the movie in rough-cut form a year ago, but isn't convinced the finished product will be any better. "I don't know what they were smoking at Toronto, but I suspect that the film was well-received there because of its occasionally charming images of a Latino family, but mainly because of the fact that Bella, regardless of what is being said about it, is ambiguous on the subject of abortion."
Now that the film is coming to screens outside of the festival circuit, I'm sure we'll be seeing more reviews popping up on Catholic blogs over the next few weeks. It's also going to be interesting to see if the producer's media blitz can garner the movie a wide release. Which brings me to this:
Apparently I'm averaging enough hits now that the viral marketers are beginning to think it's worthwhile to include me in their mailings. So, over the past two weeks I've received a couple of emails asking me to help promote small independent releases. One is Believers, a direct-to-dvd horror movie about a religious cult made by one of the Blair Witch guys. It's in the Netflix queue, so maybe I'll review it at some point. The other, as you may have guessed, is Bella. It's possible many of you out there may have received the same email, but just in case you didn't, here's the main body of it.
Hi, This is Eduardo (from Bella) and I want to ask you for your help with our release this week (Oct 26th).So there you go. Be sure to buy your hundred tickets before they're all gone. My own movie watching M. O. these days ensures I won't see this movie until it hits the rental shelves (I want my movie theaters back! Darn you, teenage girls with your cell phones! Darn you all to heck!) but at least I've done my small part to spread the Bella love.
Could you ask everyone you know if they could buy 100-1000 tickets for their friends, family, church, community on opening weekend to ensure Bella reaches and impacts as many people as possible?
Hundreds of people have been adopting theaters (buying all the tickets for one screening time) and giving them out to friends, groups or after church.
Your help can guarantee the success of opening weekend which will lead to a broader international release and hopefully more lives will be touched and transformed by Bella.
We really need your help – we really appreciate anything you can do.
COMING ATTRACTIONS: THE CRAWLING EYE
Well, it's time to start filling some reader requests. Judging by what's coming up over the next few weeks... shame, shame on all of you who have made fun of MY taste in movies.
Thursday, 25 October 2007
DEAFULA
TYPICAL REVIEW
"The movie itself is all over the board; it jumps from gritty to campy to moving to comic to pretentious so often that I don't really know what to make of it." - Dave Sindelar, SciFilm
THE PLOT
Like any stereotypical preacher's kid, theology student Steve Adams is having problems, but his run a little deeper than most. Someone has drained the blood of over 20 people in town and Steve, based on his need for monthly transfusions and vague memories of biting his childhood pet in the neck, is beginning to suspect he may be the culprit. Meanwhile, to make matters worse, Steve's best friend The Detective has brought in the vampire expert from England responsible for killing Dracula in order to help capture this latest blood sucking fiend. To top it all off, Steve's father has a heart attack while Steve is off in the woods having one of his episodes. Right before Steve's father dies, however, he finally tells Steve of the strange circumstances surrounding his birth and the subsequent death of his mother. The final pieces of the puzzle, the old minister says, can be found with Amy, the midwife who mysteriously disappeared that faithful night and who has recently returned looking for Steve. Paying a visit to Amy and her handless man-servant Zork, Steve learns that his pregnant mother was seduced by Dracula himself, a union which passed the vampiric curse on to the unborn child. In an effort to free himself from his accursed fate, Steve tracks down the coffin of Dracula and pulls the stake from the vampire's heart so that he can, uh... drive a stake through his heart. Really, from there I kind of got lost. It all comes down to some confrontation between Steve and God.
THE POINT
Let's just be honest up front. When I first heard of Deafula, the only movie ever filmed entirely in American Sign Language, all I could think of was that old Monty Python skit where they put on the semaphore version of Wuthering Heights. The whole idea sounded like it was going to be an experiment bordering on bad taste with jokes made at the expense of the deaf. ("Listen to them, the children of the night." "I can't you idiot!" That kind of thing.) But when I finally ran across a copy of the near-impossible to find film I got something of a shock. The movie, filmed in glorious black & white, starts with a moody, well staged introduction to the main character. The camera pans across an empty room to a doorway where a bloody hand slowly sides up the frame followed by the haggard face of Steve appearing in the opening. His blood-drained victim lies face down in the bathroom sink. This is followed by an equally unsettling flashback to Steve's childhood where we witness him, compelled by his blood lust, to murder his beloved puppy. This is no laugh fest. We've got a real movie on our hands here, one with a serious and somber tone, made by people who know what they're doing.
And then it happens. Steve is accosted in the street by a junkie on a motorcycle who repeatedly stabs Steve while signing "money" at him. This triggers Steve's first onscreen transformation into Deafula, a leering vampire dressed in a Lugosi cape with... a big freakin' rubber nose. Seriously, it looks like one of those disguise kits from the Party Store with the glasses removed. And I start giggling, even though I'm not sure I'm supposed to because the scene doesn't appear to be going for laughs. Fortunately, after this incident, the movie starts to head back into serious territory. That is, until the inspector from England shows up. He's weird, fidgety, and has all the mannerisms of a chimp. He's constantly bobbing up and down and poking the American detective who, in obvious disgust to the Brit's very nearness, keeps signing for the man to "shut up" and go away. And I start giggling again, starting to feel a little guilty for it because I don't know if the guy's mannerisms are part of some kind of affliction. Following another serious section in which Steve learns of his birth and tracks down the mysterious Amy, we are finally introduced to Zork, a weird puckering homunculus who (I kid you not) wears cans on his hands. Now I understand his character is supposed to be handless as punishment from God, but c'mon, he's wearing tin cans! I'm so completely losing it that by the time the English detective identifies Steve as the vampire due to (wait for it) the presence of unshelled peanuts in his vomit, my ability to take any of this seriously is all but gone. The final scene, in which the newly ordained Father Steve (he's a Pisky) stands in the middle of a church signing vigorously to God for forgiveness, should be riveting. But it's just too late, far too much silliness has happened, and I can't manage the u-turn back into pathos. All I can think of as the movie ends is how many decades of the rosary I'm gonna get in confession for laughing so hard at a movie made by people with what many would consider a serious physical disability.
Thank God (seriously) I managed to find an old interview with producer Gary Holstrom in which he discussed the making of Deafula. He assures us that from the beginning "it was quickly decided that a light-horror and light-comedy feature would be the best mix." Whew, so despite the ponderous tone of much of the movie, it was supposed to have some comedic elements. (What a relief. I was not looking forward to trying to explain all of this in the confessional.) But what about that gigantic rubber nose, wasn't that going a bit too far? Holstrom says, "Light comedy. The deaf loved it, the hearing didn't." And bingo, right there I finally catch on. You see, I came to Deafula expecting just another wacky 1970s variation of Dracula (Blacula, Old Dracula, Countess Dracula, Dracula's Dog, you get the idea.), with the hook this time being a deaf vampire. But Deafula isn't that at all, it's really a movie made primarily for members of the Deaf Culture (that's deaf with a capital [D], a concept we [C]atholics should be more than comfortable with). In their book For Hearing People Only, Moore & Levitan define Deaf Culture as "a social, communal, and creative force of, by, and for Deaf people based on American Sign Language (ASL). It encompasses communication, social protocol, art, entertainment, recreation (e.g., sports, travel, and Deaf clubs), and worship." As a movie nut I'm no stranger to this idea of a Deaf Culture, I saw Children Of A Lesser God after all. But that was made for a hearing audience whereas Deafula is not. In a certain sense, Deafula is a "foreign" film for a mainstream moviegoer like myself.
Writing in the Bright Lights Film Journal, Boris Trbic notes that a "viewer can, in spite of the best intentions and abilities of the translator, miss out on the specific cultural references in a foreign language film." For example, states Mr. Trbic, "Western audiences viewing Hong Kong films about immigrants from mainland China are frequently oblivious to the social, economic, and cultural references, problems of status and identity, brought about by the distinctions between Mandarin and Cantonese." I believe it's that kind of "cultural" misunderstanding which derailed Deafula for me because I wasn't expecting it. Now of course, some of the stuff is obvious, even if you're not looking for it. The movie exists in its own alternate universe in which every persone is deaf, uses ASL, and owns TTY text devices instead of telephones or police radios. But by itself, that could still be considered just a gimmick. It's the small stuff that matters, stuff an outsider to Deaf Culture like me might not catch on the first go around. For instance, the voiceover track provided for the non-deaf is a barely-acted literal translation of the hand signs, which results in some bizarre yoda like speech patterns. ("Hearing matters not, ... Look at me. Judge me by hearing, do you?" Okay, that line's not really in the movie, but wouldn't it be cool if it was?) Really the voice track is just a courtesy to "sound sensitive" members of the audience; you're expected to be able to draw the subtleties from the body language and signs rather than the voices. The intermittent score consists almost exclusively of percussive piano pieces and bass-heavy orchestration. It's fairly bland to listen to, but if you crank up the volume, all of a sudden you can "feel" the changes in tension vibrating through your body. And there are even more subtle things going on which I stood no chance of catching until I did a little research afterwards. In particular are the scenes in which the American detective keeps turning away from the irritating English inspector. Deafculture.com tells us that "Deaf social protocol is based on Deaf people’s need to maintain good eye contact and visibility, and to make signing easier and more comfortable." So while the scenes have some intentional humor for the hearing and non-hearing alike, to the deaf they also portray the total disregard the American has for the Brit as a person. (Like I said, the guy comes across as some sort of primate. Now that I think about it, the University of Nevada did teach that chimp Washoe to use ASL in the early 70s. I'm not saying there's a connection, but, you know...) When you put it all together, there's just no way a deaf audience and a hearing audience will see this movie in the same way. They get all the jokes and I don't and that's okay. Vive la difference and all that.
Some critics don't like the idea of a Deaf Culture, believing it further isolates the non-hearing from the rest of society. The editors at DeafCulture.com, however, see Deaf Culture as "a positive term, indicative of pride and a communal identity" much in the same way that "each ethnic and religious group has its own culture. In the case of U.S. mainstream Protestants, the characteristics may not be sharply defined. Recent Hindu or Hmong emigrants, for example, will likely have a well-defined, all-encompassing culture—a distinct mode of dress, a distinct cuisine." Journalist Russell Shaw notes that a significant and visible Catholic subculture once existed in the U. S. during the middle of the 20th century. In fact, he surmises that "the Catholic Church in America... was on its way to becoming the dominant influence in the shaping of the nation’s culture as a whole." BUT "largely behind the scenes, the dismantling of the Catholic subculture largely responsible for the Church’s success had commenced among Catholic academics and intellectuals; it continued throughout the 1960s and 1970s—indeed, it continues to this day." The Holy See appears to agree. In March 2007, Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the Vatican's Secretary of State, stated that the "main objective" of Pope Benedict XVI's pontificate was "to recover the authentic Christian identity and to explain and confirm the intelligibility of the faith in the context of widespread secularism." Piping in again, Shaw adds, "Unless believing, practicing Catholics... can re-create a strong new Catholic subculture as a basis for their efforts to engage and evangelize the increasingly secularized culture surrounding them, there is virtually no chance that the larger culture will change for the better, but an excellent chance that Catholicism will further decline." (Yow, that's bleak. Sounds like Mr. Shaw could use a dose of Smile, Darn You, Smile!)
But what exactly would constitute this new Catholic subculture? Cardinal Francis George remembers what it used to be. "Catholicism as a distinctive way of life was defined by eating habits and fasting, and by days especially set aside that weren’t part of the general secular calendar. They were reminders that the church is our mediator in our relationship to God, and can enter into the horarium [calendar] that we keep, into the foods that we eat, into all the aspects of daily life, into sexual life." (See, eating fish on Fridays actually had a purpose.) So does that suggest the best way to rebuild a Catholic subculture is simply to re-emphasize all of the old traditions and rituals that have fallen into disuse since Vatican II? Well, it couldn't hurt, but just bringing back all of the old stuff probably shouldn't be the primary focus.
What should? Well, before I throw my two cents into the ring on that question, it might be helpful to look at an old 1999 survey taken by the National Catholic Reporter which yielded the following results. "The number of Catholics saying one can be a good Catholic without going to Mass rose from 70 percent in 1987 to 76 percent in 1999. The number saying one can be a good Catholic without obeying the church's teaching about birth control increased from 66 percent in 1987 to 71 percent in 1999. The number saying one can be a good Catholic without obeying the church's teaching regarding divorce and remarriage climbed from 51 percent in 1987 to 64 percent in 1999. The number saying one can be a good Catholic without getting married in the church jumped from 51 percent in 1987 to 67 percent in 1999. The number saying one can be a good Catholic without donating time or money to help the poor increased from 44 percent to 56 percent. Finally, the number saying one can be a good Catholic without obeying the church's teaching on abortion also grew from 39 percent to 53 percent. Thus, by 1999 a majority of Catholics think it is possible to be a good Catholic without abiding by church teachings in all six of these areas." Is there any reason to believe the numbers have decreased since then?
When asked about a new Catholic subculture, (possible next president of the USCCB) Cardinal George suggests that "Catholic identity, basically, is there if someone holds the Catholic faith in its integrity, understands it well enough according to age and disposition. It’s somebody who holds the faith in a sufficiently catechized way and can say, ‘I accept all of it.’ (ALL OF IT!) At the same time, he or she does that in Catholic communion, someone who has a pastor and who knows what a bishop is and who understands the relationship to the universal church, because that’s the network of visible communion established by the Lord when he asked the apostles to take up the mission." It sounds to me like the cardinal is suggesting the best way to rebuild a Catholic subculture is by first rebuilding individuals as Catholics. Being a revert to the faith, I agree.
The Catechism reminds us that "periods of renewal in the Church are also intense moments of catechesis... Catechesis is intimately bound up with the whole of the Church's life. Not only her geographical extension and numerical increase, but even more her inner growth and correspondence with God's plan depend essentially on catechesis." The resurgence of the old rituals is edifying, but the primary emphasis must always be on the teaching. And even though those survey numbers suggest that the teaching might currently be falling on a lot of deaf ears (figuratively speaking), if Deafula has anything to show us, it's that there is always a way to reach everyone. Big freakin' rubber noses, however, are optional.
THE STINGER
Regular readers of this blog might have noticed I don't use the "first person" too much when writing these reviews. But I did a lot in this one for a particular reason. Blame. If I've inadvertently insulted any deaf people out there with this review, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, I'm sorry. And if I've inadvertently insulted any Catholics out there who don't meet Cardinal George's "requirements" for authenticity as noted above, well, I'm sorry for that too, but, you know... getting your butt back to mass wouldn't kill you, would it?
(Speaking of falling on deaf ears, are these things getting too long winded to read? I get a little research happy sometimes.)
Monday, 22 October 2007
REVIEW: Gone Baby Gone
NOTE: This review does not contain specific plot-spoilers. It does, however, contain AFTER it's first two paragraphs discussions of theme which MAY make certain mysteries of the film more solvable than they are meant to be. Therefore, if you have not yet seen the film, I recommend that you do not read after that point (a secondary disclaimer will be in place.) I also recommend that you DO go see the film as soon as you possibly can. DO NOT wait for DVD. Thank you.
With one fell directorial swoop, Ben Affleck erases every single negative or dismissive thing that has been said, thought or written about him - justifiably or not - in the intervening years between "Good Will Hunting" and right this moment. Critics, audiences and late-night comedians have had a long run of fun mocking the former Mr. Jennifer Lopez, and I've indulged in perhaps more than my fair share myself; but that is and deserves to be the past. I won't say that he is owed his detractors' apology, but he is more than owed their respect. A corner has been turned, a bridge has been crossed, and whatever awful movies and tabloid nonsense still lingered is henceforth banished by one singular stunning event: Ben Affleck has directed what may be the best American movie of the year.
"Gone Baby Gone," directed/co-scripted by Mr. Affleck from the book by "Mystic River" author Dennis Lehane and starring his younger brother Casey in a starmaking turn, is an essentially flawless Boston Noir that feels from start to finish like the finely-polished effort of a seasoned professional rather than the first major effort of an actor-turned-director. Gutsy, grim, wrenching, heartfelt, real, raw, visceral, emotionally-challenging, viscerally-wrenching and immensely intellectually-satisfying. This is a crime story for the ages, a detective picture to stand with the all-time best. You owe it to yourself to see this film.
FINAL NOTE: If you have not yet seen the movie, you should not be reading after this point. You have been warned.
"The line between good and evil is murky. Nothing is as simple as black and white. There are no easy answers." Those three simple points have been the essential, all-encompassing theme, moral and message of nearly every true Film Noir since before the genre was even called that. In most "modern" Noir, these three almost always are presumed to lead to an innevitable fourth and final entry: "Therefore, nothing really matters, there's no reason to do the right thing and nihilism is the only escape." Here, in "Gone Baby Gone," we have the first real attempt to obliterate that Fourth Point and take the genre back to it's classical, pre-defeatist roots. To do so, it places at it's forefront a hero of realistic but none the less rock-solid moral and ethical conviction who's direct and confrontation with the foundation-rocking Three Simple Points serves to strengthen those convictions. Here is a hero who comes to learn, finally, that "there are no easy answers," and - rather than giving up on answers altogether, opts instead to dig in his heels and steel his resolve for the hard ones.
This would be Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck), a young-looking private detective working in his blighted South Boston neighborhood alongside his childhood friend and current partner/girlfriend Angela Gennaro (Michelle Monaghan) running down the missing persons who "started in the cracks and then fell through" - a two-fisted Nick & Nora of the Southie dive scene. At present, ("Baby" is the fourth book in the series,) the scene is dominated by the headline-grabbing kidnapping of a 4 year-old blonde moppet named Amanda McCready. It's not the sort of case they normally take, and Angela is profoundly uneasy about the prospect of having to find a "baby in a dumpster," but Good Catholic Boy Patrick can't say no when the girl's frantic aunt and world-weary uncle come asking for their help in their field of speciality: Gleaning info from elements of the neighborhood less-than-enthusiastic about talking to the police.
This is usually the part where the cops turn up and we're into "gumshoes vs. pros" turf-fighting... but no, not this time. The Captain (Morgan Freeman) is a seen-it-all old pro who lost his own child to abduction and fronts an elite squad dedicated to these cases, recognizes the potential help the P.I.s can be and makes his resources available in the form of two hard-bitten detectives (Ed Harris and John Ashton.) The case is grimy and nasty right from the start: The kid's mother is a frightfully unlikable alcoholic who barely seems to register awareness of the event. She's a liar, which complicates the matter, and a drug mule for a local Hatian kingpin, which really complicates the matter. As you might expect, this isn't "only" about a missing girl... or maybe it is.
And that's really all that should be said about the plot, as this quickly turns into the type of detective story that's less about solving a crime and more about unraveling the puzzle-box that the case has become. What you should know going in is that it's a revelation to watch, as pieces fall into place and an already stellar cast dives deep into the moral complexity (but NOT, importantly, moral ambiguity) that pulse alongside the dialogue and visuals with the realism of life-observed. The plot swells with colorful, grimy locales and grandly-motivated characters but always feels authentic and immediate. "The streets" and the crime that lives on them hasn't been this well captured in a very long time.
This is the one you need to see. This is the one you'll be sorry you missed. Get to the theatre, see this movie, thank me later.
FINAL RATING: 10/10
With one fell directorial swoop, Ben Affleck erases every single negative or dismissive thing that has been said, thought or written about him - justifiably or not - in the intervening years between "Good Will Hunting" and right this moment. Critics, audiences and late-night comedians have had a long run of fun mocking the former Mr. Jennifer Lopez, and I've indulged in perhaps more than my fair share myself; but that is and deserves to be the past. I won't say that he is owed his detractors' apology, but he is more than owed their respect. A corner has been turned, a bridge has been crossed, and whatever awful movies and tabloid nonsense still lingered is henceforth banished by one singular stunning event: Ben Affleck has directed what may be the best American movie of the year.
"Gone Baby Gone," directed/co-scripted by Mr. Affleck from the book by "Mystic River" author Dennis Lehane and starring his younger brother Casey in a starmaking turn, is an essentially flawless Boston Noir that feels from start to finish like the finely-polished effort of a seasoned professional rather than the first major effort of an actor-turned-director. Gutsy, grim, wrenching, heartfelt, real, raw, visceral, emotionally-challenging, viscerally-wrenching and immensely intellectually-satisfying. This is a crime story for the ages, a detective picture to stand with the all-time best. You owe it to yourself to see this film.
FINAL NOTE: If you have not yet seen the movie, you should not be reading after this point. You have been warned.
"The line between good and evil is murky. Nothing is as simple as black and white. There are no easy answers." Those three simple points have been the essential, all-encompassing theme, moral and message of nearly every true Film Noir since before the genre was even called that. In most "modern" Noir, these three almost always are presumed to lead to an innevitable fourth and final entry: "Therefore, nothing really matters, there's no reason to do the right thing and nihilism is the only escape." Here, in "Gone Baby Gone," we have the first real attempt to obliterate that Fourth Point and take the genre back to it's classical, pre-defeatist roots. To do so, it places at it's forefront a hero of realistic but none the less rock-solid moral and ethical conviction who's direct and confrontation with the foundation-rocking Three Simple Points serves to strengthen those convictions. Here is a hero who comes to learn, finally, that "there are no easy answers," and - rather than giving up on answers altogether, opts instead to dig in his heels and steel his resolve for the hard ones.
This would be Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck), a young-looking private detective working in his blighted South Boston neighborhood alongside his childhood friend and current partner/girlfriend Angela Gennaro (Michelle Monaghan) running down the missing persons who "started in the cracks and then fell through" - a two-fisted Nick & Nora of the Southie dive scene. At present, ("Baby" is the fourth book in the series,) the scene is dominated by the headline-grabbing kidnapping of a 4 year-old blonde moppet named Amanda McCready. It's not the sort of case they normally take, and Angela is profoundly uneasy about the prospect of having to find a "baby in a dumpster," but Good Catholic Boy Patrick can't say no when the girl's frantic aunt and world-weary uncle come asking for their help in their field of speciality: Gleaning info from elements of the neighborhood less-than-enthusiastic about talking to the police.
This is usually the part where the cops turn up and we're into "gumshoes vs. pros" turf-fighting... but no, not this time. The Captain (Morgan Freeman) is a seen-it-all old pro who lost his own child to abduction and fronts an elite squad dedicated to these cases, recognizes the potential help the P.I.s can be and makes his resources available in the form of two hard-bitten detectives (Ed Harris and John Ashton.) The case is grimy and nasty right from the start: The kid's mother is a frightfully unlikable alcoholic who barely seems to register awareness of the event. She's a liar, which complicates the matter, and a drug mule for a local Hatian kingpin, which really complicates the matter. As you might expect, this isn't "only" about a missing girl... or maybe it is.
And that's really all that should be said about the plot, as this quickly turns into the type of detective story that's less about solving a crime and more about unraveling the puzzle-box that the case has become. What you should know going in is that it's a revelation to watch, as pieces fall into place and an already stellar cast dives deep into the moral complexity (but NOT, importantly, moral ambiguity) that pulse alongside the dialogue and visuals with the realism of life-observed. The plot swells with colorful, grimy locales and grandly-motivated characters but always feels authentic and immediate. "The streets" and the crime that lives on them hasn't been this well captured in a very long time.
This is the one you need to see. This is the one you'll be sorry you missed. Get to the theatre, see this movie, thank me later.
FINAL RATING: 10/10
REVIEW: 30 Days of Night
One of the nice things about the Horror genre is that reworking it is remarkably similar to playing around with DNA: Move one or two digits around and suddenly it's a whole new creature. In this case, relocate "Night of The Living Dead" from the rural midwest to northern Alaska, swap the zombies for vampires and - BANG! - you've got a whole new movie in "30 Days of Night."
Based largely on a graphic novel by Steve Niles, the setting is a frostbitten blue-collar Alaskan town of Barrow that's just entered the regions' titular month-long sunless winter period - aka paradise for sun-allergic bloodsuckers... even the vampires are surprised that they haven't thought of this until now. Led by their nominal leader (Danny Huston in a deviously unexpected bit of casting) the pack (flock?) of vamps arrive in the wake their cut-rate Renfield (Ben Foster) of a herald essentially content to un-live out the month gorging themselves on the geographically-captive townsfolk, while the film mainly follows a small and diverse band of survivors trying to endure the seige under the leadership of the local sherriff (Josh Hartnett.)
The tone, story and overall production value suggest nothing so much as an above-average episode of "Tales From The Crypt," expanded to feature length by a handful of character-fleshing moments and several virtuoso widescreen sequences of vampiric massacre. Given the sorry state of the genre as of late, that's more than ample reason to peg the piece as a genuinely worthwhile bit of viewing. That it's not out to rework the entire genre is part of it's strength: It accepts that it's a "genre picture" and treats it as a license to cut to the chase. It's as aware as you are that "she shouldn't go in there!!!" or that the first-act introduction of various lethal-looking work machines automatically means that one or more humans and/or vampires will be getting chewed up by them in act 3.
I will say that I greatly appreciate the way it dismisses almost-entirely with tiresome postmodernism, getting the "vampires don't exist!" "so what are they!?" junk out of the way quickly and keeping the characters all on the same "everybody knows how vampires work" page; and that it's interesting that the film gets more "gore-mileage" out of Hartnett's prefered method of vampire-killing - fireaxe to the head - than vampire attacks themselves.
Bottom line, best vampire movie in awhile. Give it a look.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
Based largely on a graphic novel by Steve Niles, the setting is a frostbitten blue-collar Alaskan town of Barrow that's just entered the regions' titular month-long sunless winter period - aka paradise for sun-allergic bloodsuckers... even the vampires are surprised that they haven't thought of this until now. Led by their nominal leader (Danny Huston in a deviously unexpected bit of casting) the pack (flock?) of vamps arrive in the wake their cut-rate Renfield (Ben Foster) of a herald essentially content to un-live out the month gorging themselves on the geographically-captive townsfolk, while the film mainly follows a small and diverse band of survivors trying to endure the seige under the leadership of the local sherriff (Josh Hartnett.)
The tone, story and overall production value suggest nothing so much as an above-average episode of "Tales From The Crypt," expanded to feature length by a handful of character-fleshing moments and several virtuoso widescreen sequences of vampiric massacre. Given the sorry state of the genre as of late, that's more than ample reason to peg the piece as a genuinely worthwhile bit of viewing. That it's not out to rework the entire genre is part of it's strength: It accepts that it's a "genre picture" and treats it as a license to cut to the chase. It's as aware as you are that "she shouldn't go in there!!!" or that the first-act introduction of various lethal-looking work machines automatically means that one or more humans and/or vampires will be getting chewed up by them in act 3.
I will say that I greatly appreciate the way it dismisses almost-entirely with tiresome postmodernism, getting the "vampires don't exist!" "so what are they!?" junk out of the way quickly and keeping the characters all on the same "everybody knows how vampires work" page; and that it's interesting that the film gets more "gore-mileage" out of Hartnett's prefered method of vampire-killing - fireaxe to the head - than vampire attacks themselves.
Bottom line, best vampire movie in awhile. Give it a look.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
Friday, 19 October 2007
NOW SHOWING AT A BLOG NEAR YOU
What the...? A mere week after I reviewed the classic eco-stinker Frogs, lo and behold what should appear in GOLEM: Journal of Religion and Monsters but a student paper by Elizabeth Smith of Hendrix College on... Frogs. I readily admit that most, if not all, of the people who read and comment on my blog are smarter than me (go read their blogs and you'll agree), but I thought I had at least cornered the market on religion and bad movies. How's a poor B-Movie Catechist to compete with paragraphs like, "While on the surface Frogs appears to be nothing more than a badly written movie, several layers of significance and relevance emerge upon deeper inspection. Through the association of the frogs with the angel statues, the frogs function as divine messengers, a literal monstrum, warning us about the dangers of tampering with nature. They fulfill the same function as ancient chaos gods, aroused after interference with the divinely mandated order of the cosmos." I hope she got an A.
Speaking of people more intelligent than me, D. G. D. Davidson of The Sci-Fi Catholic quit playing in the dirt long enough to head back to the multiplex to catch the latest "I'm not Harry Potter but I sure would like some of his money" opus The Seeker: The Dark Is Rising. "The film's shortcomings and mistakes are legion." is one quote which might give you a hint as to his feelings on the movie.
Barbara Nicolosi at the Church of The Masses doesn't find quite as many mistakes with Michael Clayton, George (Return Of The Killer Tomatoes) Clooney's latest effort, but that doesn't mean she didn't find enough to give it a definite "uh, no."
But lest you think it's all bad out there, here's a slightly older review by Allen from (conveniently enough) It Came From Allen's Brain for the penguin hang-ten epic Surf's Up! He enjoyed the surfing, the penguins, and some of the morally positive messages the movie had to offer. But mostly I think he enjoyed the surfing. (I ran across Allen's blog as a part of the Ironic Catholic's series on Christian Humor Blogging. I imagine anyone who wanders through here already knows about The Ironic Catholic, but if you missed this series of posts, it's well worth reading. Dang, but there's a bunch of bloggers out there funnier than me too.)
And finally, although not entirely movie related, I pass along this little tidbit from TheoFantatique in which John W. Morehead puts a positive spin on the zombie version of The Last Supper. Not only are his connections to the "difficult teachings" in John Chapter 6 something I wish I had thought of, but it just goes to show there are weirder blog postings than mine out there.
Well, after that particularly humbling post all I can say is that I'll see you in a few days with my not-quite-as-smart-as-others, not-quite-as-funny-as-others, and not-quite-as-weird-as-others (okay, maybe that last one's not all the way true) review of Deafula. See you then.
Speaking of people more intelligent than me, D. G. D. Davidson of The Sci-Fi Catholic quit playing in the dirt long enough to head back to the multiplex to catch the latest "I'm not Harry Potter but I sure would like some of his money" opus The Seeker: The Dark Is Rising. "The film's shortcomings and mistakes are legion." is one quote which might give you a hint as to his feelings on the movie.
Barbara Nicolosi at the Church of The Masses doesn't find quite as many mistakes with Michael Clayton, George (Return Of The Killer Tomatoes) Clooney's latest effort, but that doesn't mean she didn't find enough to give it a definite "uh, no."
But lest you think it's all bad out there, here's a slightly older review by Allen from (conveniently enough) It Came From Allen's Brain for the penguin hang-ten epic Surf's Up! He enjoyed the surfing, the penguins, and some of the morally positive messages the movie had to offer. But mostly I think he enjoyed the surfing. (I ran across Allen's blog as a part of the Ironic Catholic's series on Christian Humor Blogging. I imagine anyone who wanders through here already knows about The Ironic Catholic, but if you missed this series of posts, it's well worth reading. Dang, but there's a bunch of bloggers out there funnier than me too.)
And finally, although not entirely movie related, I pass along this little tidbit from TheoFantatique in which John W. Morehead puts a positive spin on the zombie version of The Last Supper. Not only are his connections to the "difficult teachings" in John Chapter 6 something I wish I had thought of, but it just goes to show there are weirder blog postings than mine out there.
Well, after that particularly humbling post all I can say is that I'll see you in a few days with my not-quite-as-smart-as-others, not-quite-as-funny-as-others, and not-quite-as-weird-as-others (okay, maybe that last one's not all the way true) review of Deafula. See you then.
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
SHORT FEATURE: MELIES' TALES OF TERROR
Here's a little something silent but (cartoonishly) violent from 1903.
Kind of leaves you speechless for a moment, doesn't it? Well, don't lose your head over it. Just recall the little quote from St. John Vianney in the Catechism which reminds us that we don't always need words. "My God, if my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love you, I want my heart to repeat it to you as often as I draw breath."
(Is it possible I just used a passage from the Catechism's section on the theological virtue of hope just so I could mention that the word is out Pope Benedict XVI has completed his second encyclical which appears to be a meditation on Christian hope? Hmm, could be.)
Kind of leaves you speechless for a moment, doesn't it? Well, don't lose your head over it. Just recall the little quote from St. John Vianney in the Catechism which reminds us that we don't always need words. "My God, if my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love you, I want my heart to repeat it to you as often as I draw breath."
(Is it possible I just used a passage from the Catechism's section on the theological virtue of hope just so I could mention that the word is out Pope Benedict XVI has completed his second encyclical which appears to be a meditation on Christian hope? Hmm, could be.)
COMING ATTRACTIONS: DEAFULA
Trailer? Not a chance. It was pure luck just running across a copy of the movie itself.So, yeah. Deafula. Coming soon.
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
REVIEW: Elizabeth: The Golden Age
It's a period piece with a level of visual oppulence that occasionally dangles at the precipice of outright fantasy, re-imagines a politically/morally complex moment in Western Civ 101 into a starkly-drawn clash between righteous - if grimly pragmatic - Anglo Good Guys and just-this-side-of-demonic Swarthy-Foriegner Bad Guys and charges forward on a feiry lead performance given by a Cranked-Up-To-Eleven British thespian as a legendary monarch with a flair for declarative sentences and the verbal bruising of their enemy's messengers. In other words, it's a little bit like a "chick version" of "300."
Ten years ago, director Shekar Kapur's "Elizabeth" made Cate Blanchett into an instant star thanks to her grand titular turn and itself into an Anglophile cult-classic thanks to it's sharp script, stellar cast, decidely UN-"Masterpiece Theater" visual scheme and deft mixing of costume-drama, sensuality and political skullduggery. Director and star are here reunited, looking for lightning to strike twice by sending the title character into Act II.
Since it can no longer be expected that this stuff comes up in school anymore: In the previous film, Elizabeth, daughter of King Henry VIII and Anne Boylen, became Queen of England amid the swirling religious turmoil involving the bitter struggle between the Europe-dominating Catholic Church and the Protestant Church of England - formed by her father after the Catholics refused to allow him to divorce his first wife. Aided by her loyal advisor/spymaster Walshingham (the great Geoffrey Rush) she positioned herself for power against the machinations of the Catholics, who would see her replaced by her devout (and just-this-side-of-nuts) half-sister Mary Stuart.
As the sequel opens, Elizabeth's reign has set England as the lone "rebel" nation opposite the obsessively-religious King Philip of Spain, who's Inquisition-happy administration is acting as the tip of a spear in a Catholic-themed Holy War against Protestantism in Europe. Not only is a mighty Spanish Armada being primed for a naval incursion, but England itself is crawling with assassins itching to martyr themselves to bring down the "unholy" Queen. Into this steps Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen,) a professional adventurer who's hobby - piracy - makes him an invaluable ally in the unconventional war Elizabeth will ultimately have to wage. More importantly, he's a bit of a charmer (Clive Owen, y'see,) since the overriding arc of this franchise is the dueling duties/desires of the Queen's public and personal life: Elizabeth is tantilized not just by Raleigh himself, but by the free-spirited life he enjoys, and her ability to set her desire for the "alternatives" this presents in order to properly wage a multi-front defensive war with Spain - and the collateral damage that will be done either way - is the meat of the story.
The original film climaxed with Elizabeth, facing down what was already sure to be a constantly-imperiled reign, transforming her (public) self into that of the Virgin Queen, an ethereal Madonna Figure exuding superhuman power and authority - a potent transformation given how entirely human and vulnerable we knew her to be from the rest of the film. Here, it's somewhat the opposite: The forceful and furious Virgin Queen is front and center most of the time, and it's whatever remains of the "human" Elizabeth we only glimpse. As if proof was needed that Blanchett is an actress of boundless ability, here it is: Who else could spend almost an entire film in varying stages of white greasepaint and staggeringly-opulent costumes barking orders and challenges at cowering minions/enemies (attention dudes who 'get off' on being verbally berrated by beautiful women: this is your new favorite porno) and NOT have it come off as high camp?
The rest of the movie is kind of the same way: It's big, soaring and damn-near-garish, but somehow it just WORKS. As history, it's a bit on the dubious side what with a likely too-clever-to-be-true conspiracy switcheroo twist and a simplifying of the conflict that seems to owe more to an attempt at contemporary paralell (i.e. a Western leader facing down a foriegn army of chanting, cultish religious fanatics) than to the accounts of the times. As romance, it's pretty soapy, with Elizabeth pining for Raleigh only to see him take up with her Lady in Waiting Bess - a confidant with whom she spends so much time doting on one another (don't get excited: they didn't pull that trigger last time, they ain't gonna pull it here) that it eventually feels less like a love triangle and a bit more like the Queen is carrying on with both of them, by proxy, one through the other. And it builds to a dramatic naval battle that Julie Taymor would call overly-operatic. And check out Samantha Morton's super-crazy turn as Mary Stuart (which has added the benefit of guest-starring Morton's mezmerizingly-beautiful face and simply-incredible.. um... "upper torso")...
...But it all (mostly) fits together and runs along fine, a feverish delusion of Anglophile design-porn. Credit Kapur's bold embrace of the material's eccentricities, and a group of well-served actors (with the minor exception of Owen, who's doing his best in an underwritten role that feels like the writer's put that part on auto-pilot once they were told they'd landed Clive Owen to play a swashbuckler.) This is a beautiful to look at, enormously fun to watch hybrid - an illicit lovechild of Summer Blockbusters and BBC Costume Drama - anchored by one of the year's fiercest and most volatile performances. Reccomended.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
Ten years ago, director Shekar Kapur's "Elizabeth" made Cate Blanchett into an instant star thanks to her grand titular turn and itself into an Anglophile cult-classic thanks to it's sharp script, stellar cast, decidely UN-"Masterpiece Theater" visual scheme and deft mixing of costume-drama, sensuality and political skullduggery. Director and star are here reunited, looking for lightning to strike twice by sending the title character into Act II.
Since it can no longer be expected that this stuff comes up in school anymore: In the previous film, Elizabeth, daughter of King Henry VIII and Anne Boylen, became Queen of England amid the swirling religious turmoil involving the bitter struggle between the Europe-dominating Catholic Church and the Protestant Church of England - formed by her father after the Catholics refused to allow him to divorce his first wife. Aided by her loyal advisor/spymaster Walshingham (the great Geoffrey Rush) she positioned herself for power against the machinations of the Catholics, who would see her replaced by her devout (and just-this-side-of-nuts) half-sister Mary Stuart.
As the sequel opens, Elizabeth's reign has set England as the lone "rebel" nation opposite the obsessively-religious King Philip of Spain, who's Inquisition-happy administration is acting as the tip of a spear in a Catholic-themed Holy War against Protestantism in Europe. Not only is a mighty Spanish Armada being primed for a naval incursion, but England itself is crawling with assassins itching to martyr themselves to bring down the "unholy" Queen. Into this steps Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen,) a professional adventurer who's hobby - piracy - makes him an invaluable ally in the unconventional war Elizabeth will ultimately have to wage. More importantly, he's a bit of a charmer (Clive Owen, y'see,) since the overriding arc of this franchise is the dueling duties/desires of the Queen's public and personal life: Elizabeth is tantilized not just by Raleigh himself, but by the free-spirited life he enjoys, and her ability to set her desire for the "alternatives" this presents in order to properly wage a multi-front defensive war with Spain - and the collateral damage that will be done either way - is the meat of the story.
The original film climaxed with Elizabeth, facing down what was already sure to be a constantly-imperiled reign, transforming her (public) self into that of the Virgin Queen, an ethereal Madonna Figure exuding superhuman power and authority - a potent transformation given how entirely human and vulnerable we knew her to be from the rest of the film. Here, it's somewhat the opposite: The forceful and furious Virgin Queen is front and center most of the time, and it's whatever remains of the "human" Elizabeth we only glimpse. As if proof was needed that Blanchett is an actress of boundless ability, here it is: Who else could spend almost an entire film in varying stages of white greasepaint and staggeringly-opulent costumes barking orders and challenges at cowering minions/enemies (attention dudes who 'get off' on being verbally berrated by beautiful women: this is your new favorite porno) and NOT have it come off as high camp?
The rest of the movie is kind of the same way: It's big, soaring and damn-near-garish, but somehow it just WORKS. As history, it's a bit on the dubious side what with a likely too-clever-to-be-true conspiracy switcheroo twist and a simplifying of the conflict that seems to owe more to an attempt at contemporary paralell (i.e. a Western leader facing down a foriegn army of chanting, cultish religious fanatics) than to the accounts of the times. As romance, it's pretty soapy, with Elizabeth pining for Raleigh only to see him take up with her Lady in Waiting Bess - a confidant with whom she spends so much time doting on one another (don't get excited: they didn't pull that trigger last time, they ain't gonna pull it here) that it eventually feels less like a love triangle and a bit more like the Queen is carrying on with both of them, by proxy, one through the other. And it builds to a dramatic naval battle that Julie Taymor would call overly-operatic. And check out Samantha Morton's super-crazy turn as Mary Stuart (which has added the benefit of guest-starring Morton's mezmerizingly-beautiful face and simply-incredible.. um... "upper torso")...
...But it all (mostly) fits together and runs along fine, a feverish delusion of Anglophile design-porn. Credit Kapur's bold embrace of the material's eccentricities, and a group of well-served actors (with the minor exception of Owen, who's doing his best in an underwritten role that feels like the writer's put that part on auto-pilot once they were told they'd landed Clive Owen to play a swashbuckler.) This is a beautiful to look at, enormously fun to watch hybrid - an illicit lovechild of Summer Blockbusters and BBC Costume Drama - anchored by one of the year's fiercest and most volatile performances. Reccomended.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
BELA LUGOSI MEETS A BROOKLYN GORILLA
TYPICAL REVIEW
"Duke does the Dean Martin shtick (poorly, I might add) while freak-of-nature Sammy takes the Jerry Lewis role, and holy old sheep s*** is he frightening. I can't begin to describe how disturbing this guy is, you just have to see for yourself." - Scott Phillips, Film Vault
THE PLOT
Night club performers Duke and Sammy fall out of a plane (oh, if only) and wash up on the tropical island of... Cola Cola. (Seriously, kids, that's as funny as it gets. Better buckle up for a rough one.) The duo are marked for sacrifice by the local natives until Princess Nona intervenes, having falling madly in love with Duke at first site. The tribe instead holds a luau in honor of the pair during which Sammy tells jokes (Stop me if you've heard the one with the punchline "so I bit him". Oh yeah, Sammy goes there.), Duke croons a tune, and Nona's younger, but much larger, sister Saloma becomes hopelessly infatuated with Sammy. (So does a monkey later on. Who knew Sammy was such a chick magnet?) Nona suggests the boys go and see Dr. Zabor, the mad scientist who has set up shop on the other side of the island in order to perform experiments in evolution, in hopes he can help them get back to their tour. Unfortunately, it turns out that the not-so-good doctor wants Nona for himself, and so takes an immediate disliking to Duke. From there it's utter chaos as Duke is transformed into a gorilla, lab monkey Ramona competes with Saloma for Sammy's attentions, everybody runs through the same jungle set for twenty minutes, another gorilla shows up and falls in love with Duke, Dr. Zabor drinks a lot, and everyone laughs at the fat girl. By this time the movie's plot is hopelessly lost, so Zabor simply walks up and shoots Sammy in the crotch. (oh, if only) Sadly, the screenwriter must have seen the Wizard of Oz, so the movie has a "shock ending" in store for us.
THE POINT
Doppelgangers, shadow selves, evil twins, sinister goatee wearing duplicates from a mirror dimension. As long as there have been stories there have been tales of malevolent duplicates appearing in people's lives as harbingers of doom or bringers of evil. In an interview from a few years back, Jerry Lewis clone Sammy Petrillo recalled his first meeting with the popular comedian. "[Milton] Berle sent me and his agent, Herb Jaffee, in a cab over to Sherry Nevlim's hotel where Jerry Lewis was staying. Jerry was in the bathroom in his shorts shaving. And so help me, he almost cut his throat when he saw me!" (I can imagine. I had the exact same reaction while watching this movie for the first time and I'm not even Jerry Lewis.) Still, the meeting got Sammy into show business, playing Jerry's infant son in a skit on The Colgate Comedy Hour. But when Sammy hooked up with Dean Martin wannabe Duke Mitchell and began performing a carbon copy nightclub act, Jerry was displeased. And when the pair made Bela Lugosi Meets A Brooklyn Gorilla, (which is a ridiculously long title to type. From now on we'll just refer to this movie as BLMABG, which coincidently is the exact sound you'll start making as you struggle to hold down your gorge while watching.) Jerry Lewis felt compelled to take action. As in legal action. As in cease and desist.
And so, ladies and gentlemen, we offer up for your viewing pleasure the one and only screen pairing of the faux-legendary Mitchell and Petrillo. We give you BLMABG. In bucket loads. Now let's be fair. It's not like all the evils of this movie rest solely on the shoulders of Duke and Sammy. This is, after all, a movie which uses stock footage... in its trailer. This is a movie where all the supposed Polynesian natives are 40 year old white guys in Hawaiian shirts. This is a movie directed by a guy known around Hollywood as William "One-Take" Beaudine. This is a movie whose only recognizable name, Lugosi, was reportedly zonked out on morphine throughout the production. This is a movie whose title was chosen by the ten year old son of the producer. (Actually, that's not such a bad thing. The original title the kid rejected was White Woman Of The Lost Jungle.) This a movie which Martin & Lewis producer Hal B. Wallis allegedly offered to buy the negative of... SO HE COULD BURN IT!
But despite all of that, BLMABG really is Duke and Sammy's movie to carry, and wow, do they fumble the ball. I'm not saying the guys are completely talentless, they're just... a little off. Duke comes across like one of those guys who gets wasted on nickel beer night and spends the rest of the evening bellowing out mediocre Sinatra karaoke while hitting on any woman he isn't related to. He's interesting for a few minutes, but you quickly start to wish he would call it a night and just go home. And as for Sammy... honestly, it just gets painful. His one-liners are the kind of stuff you find in Bazooka Joe comics. (He likes being on Cola Cola because it makes a "guy feel all pepsi!" Arrrgh, not only is it a bad joke, I'm not even sure I know what it means!) His continuous unfunny put-downs of the portly Saloma start to border on cruelty as he calls her everything from a blimp to a two-ton salami. (Sammy pronounces Saloma's name like salami, you see, because she's overweight, and salami is a food, and you get overweight by eating, and, and, ehhh....) And his impersonation of Jerry Lewis with all it's accompanying flailing about and nasally screeching (Duke-eeee!), while technically spot-on, really starts to get to you after awhile. I know a lot of people can't handle the real Jerry Lewis as it is, but when I was a kid I always thought he was kind of funny. If I had seen BLMABG as a child, though, I think this... thing... might have frightened me out of my wits. It looks like Jerry, it talks like Jerry, it moves like Jerry... but it ain't Jerry. No. It's a pod person. I'm sure of it. After all these years of watching them in movies, I believe I've finally seen one in real life. Some malevolent alien lifeform came down from outer space and took Jerry's shape while he was sleeping, but it couldn't duplicate his soul. Don't laugh, this is serious. "Look, you fools. You're in danger. Can't you see? They're after you. They're after all of us. Our wives, our children, everyone. They're here already. YOU'RE NEXT! YOU'RE NEXT!"
Or maybe not.
Maybe Sammy really was just some guy who looked eerily similar to Jerry Lewis and found a way to make a buck off of it. But he was such a good counterfeit that Lewis himself got a little concerned that there might be some confusion. Again, recalling their first meeting, Sammy claims that Jerry "said something to the effect of, "Don't sign any checks and tell people you're Jerry Lewis!" He wasn't being funny. He was being serious." It seems Jerry had little faith in his contemporaries to be able to judge who was the real deal and who was not. So little in fact, that he was willing to wage an ultimately unsuccessful lawsuit against Duke and Sammy just to keep them out of the public eye.
Okay, so maybe Jerry was guilty of a little overkill, but can you really blame him for not trusting the masses to be discerning? BLMABG was, after all, released in 1952. The war was over, the soldiers were home, and the economy was booming in order to meet their demands. In his book The Victorians author John Gardiner suggests that the mass-production era this boom ushered in resulted in a lack of discrimination on the part of consumers in regards to the "goodness" of any particular something. As long as their desires were met in an economical and efficient way, quality and authenticity were optional. At a fundamental level, the 1950s jump started what philosopher Charles Taylor referred to as the Malaise of Modernity, the inevitable cultural slide into a "soft relativism" in which the good or bad of something was irrelevant as long as you had the ability to choose between them. And the really bad news, as Gardiner put it, was that "the culture of consumerism, mass entertainment, and moral relativism was here to stay." And growing. Need proof?
In October of 2004 Zachary Stein and Theo L. Dawson-Tunik of Developmental Testing Service, LLC conducted a "study of relativism in the moral reasoning of 122 schoolboys, 72 of whom were interviewed in the 1950s and early 1960s and 50 of whom were interviewed in the 1990s." The paper concludes that "respondents from the 1990s were more than 4 times more likely to express uncertainty, almost 4 times more likely to make relativistic references to belief or opinion, and 10 times more likely to express the notion that one can speak only for oneself. If these findings are robust—and additional research is required before we can feel confident in making this assertion—there has been a major shift in the moral thinking of American youth... Consequently, a radical form of relativism—which holds that any opinion is as good as any other—is increasingly becoming the default philosophy of American adolescence." Wow. Everything is equal, nothing is bad. Doesn't that sound cool? It's a shame there's a big but attached to it.
Buried in the report is first this sentence, "The value of relativism seems ambiguous. It leads towards tolerance, learning and diversity, on the one hand, and conflict, fragmentation, and confusion, on the other." and later on this one, "we see uncertainty in attempts to articulate and explain some of the most basic and fundamental moral intuitions - inarticulacy concerning the very normativity of the moral ought. This kind of deep moral uncertainty and inarticulacy is a bedfellow of subjective relativism and seems to follow logically from its premises." The Catch 22 to all these equally viable choices found in relativism, apparently, is the accompanying inability to actually make a choice. I guess relativism isn't all it's cracked up to be.
In his 2005 inaugural address Pope Benedict XVI stated that "Today, a particularly insidious obstacle to the task of educating is the massive presence in our society and culture of that relativism which, recognizing nothing as definitive, leaves as the ultimate criterion only the self with its desires. And under the semblance of freedom it becomes a prison for each one, for it separates people from one another, locking each person into his or her own "ego"." It seems the Holy Father has had relativism in his sights since day one. But how to combat it when, as noted earlier, it appears to be the primary philosophy of a good chunk of the world's population. We got a little hint in last week's review of Frogs in which we noted the Pontiff's hope that environmental concerns will be instrumental in reigniting an interest in natural law theory. "The natural law is immutable and permanent throughout the variations of history" states the Catechism, "it subsists under the flux of ideas and customs and supports their progress. The rules that express it remain substantially valid. Even when it is rejected in its very principles, it cannot be destroyed or removed from the heart of man. It always rises again in the life of individuals and societies."
And if Benedict gets his way, then now is the time for natural law theory to reemerge into the limelight. Two weeks ago in an address to the International Theological Commission, the Pope said "the consciences of all men and women of good will must be mobilized, both lay people and followers of religions other than Christianity, so that together they may make an effective commitment to creating... the conditions necessary for a full awareness of the inalienable value of natural moral law." To that effect, the Catholic News Service reports, he's had members of the commission "working on a document on the foundations of natural moral law and, specifically, on how those principles form the basis of a "universal ethic" that can be recognized and shared by all peoples of all religions."
Why bother? "Despite its naturalistic stance," wrote theologian Carl F. H. Henry. "modernity seeks, unavailingly, to find some semblance of transcendent anchorage, or metaphysical linkage, however vague, that will escape complete subjectivism or relativism in ethics." And if we can convince a modern world uninterested in religion that what it is seeking can be found in a natural law, and that such a thing exists, then those who follow it to its logical conclusion will find the very real possibility that God exists too. "The natural law is written and engraved in the soul of each and every man, because it is human reason ordaining him to do good and forbidding him to sin" wrote Pope Leo XIII, "but this command of human reason would not have the force of law if it were not the voice and interpreter of a higher reason to which our spirit and our freedom must be submitted."
For my small contribution to the fight against relativism, I bring to the table a little movie we call BLMABG. It's bad. It's objectively bad. "I thought it was so bad" said associate producer Herman Cohen, "I didn't even want my name on it." It was so bad that Jerry Lewis, who wasn't even in it, sued because he thought it hurt his good name. Go ahead and watch it yourself. Guess what? You'll think it's bad. Finding those little absolutes we can all agree on, that's where to start.
THE STINGER
According to the biography page on Jerry Lewis' official website, "1977 marked the year that the highest honor ever bestowed upon an entertainer, would recognize the tireless efforts Jerry Lewis has displayed since 1949, in his fight against Muscular Dystrophy. "Jerry Lewis is a man for all seasons, all people, all times. His name has, in the hearts of millions, become synonymous with peace, love and brotherhood." With those words, Congressman Les Aspin of Wisconsin concluded his nomination of Jerry Lewis for the Nobel Peace Prize." For some reason many people were shocked when Al Gore won the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Sounds to me like they've had a thing for comedians for a long time.
Sunday, 14 October 2007
REVIEW: Michael Clayton
For all the ominus buildup in the trailer, what we have here in "Michael Clayton" is basically a mas-macho/midlife-crisis gloss on the ever-classy old saw of corporate-crony scumbags clawing their way back to humanity. From the premise on down, it hopes (hell, it DEMANDS) comparison to the mythic (cue Peter Biskind's raging hard-on) Great Films Of The 70s, and it's graciously upfront about this by building much of it's story-momentum around a character who may as well simply be named Howard Beale Mark II. That'd be Arthur Edens, (Tom Wilkinson,) a legendary corporate lawyer who's longtime defense of a loathsome chemical conglomerate may-or-may-not have led him to snap, go off his meds and - now "seeing the world clearly" - turn on his masters. The titular Michael Clayton (George Clooney) is the firm's dirty-job "fixer" called in on damage-control duty.
So, then, the not-great news is that "Clayton" is, at least in part, yet another corporate-culture indictment that desperately, desperately wants to be "Network." The really-great news is that it doesn't really matter. Have we, ultimately, been down these roads a few dozen times before? Yup, doesn't matter. They're good roads, they go good places. Is Wilkinson's Arthur another Howard Beale? Yes, he is. Doesn't matter. Wilkinson is a great actor, and it's a great spin on the well-worn "madness equals clarity" concept. Tilda Swinton's bitch-on-wheels company rep bad guy? Yeah, it's been done, but never quite this way and not lately quite so well.
What sets this apart from it's predecessors, aside from the actors and the fresh takes they bring to characters just this side of archetypal is the structure; which suggests that the movie is as aware as we are of how much familiar ground it's covering. The chemical company covering up pollution bit, it seems to know, we're all familiar with after "Civil Action" and "Erin Brokovich," and so it drops the intrigue and conspiracy story mostly into the background and zeroes in on the semi-tangential outer lives of the character's occupying it; taking us through the harried paces of Clayton's gambling woes and family/financial wreckage and the twitchy, obsessive and profoundly sad-looking preparation rituals of Swinton's company hitwoman. And, again, while the whole "insane man who's actually never been saner" thing has been done to DEATH Wilkinson makes it feel entirely fresh - it's the first time I've bought this kind of character in a long time.
Since it's using genre-familiarity as a shortcut past exposition and into character-study, it's largely forgivable that most of Clayton's "heroic-journey" you're likely to see coming. Yes, the sinister corporate types are probably hiding something really sinister to drive Arthur over the edge, he's probably got the goods on them, Swinton's character is probably going to go all-the-way-bad to protect her masters and Michael Clayton is almost certainly going to be tempted remain safely in moral limbo rather than risk finally fighting on the side of good. Not everything has to re-invent the wheel, so long as it still rolls.
Great characters, good movie, go see it.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
So, then, the not-great news is that "Clayton" is, at least in part, yet another corporate-culture indictment that desperately, desperately wants to be "Network." The really-great news is that it doesn't really matter. Have we, ultimately, been down these roads a few dozen times before? Yup, doesn't matter. They're good roads, they go good places. Is Wilkinson's Arthur another Howard Beale? Yes, he is. Doesn't matter. Wilkinson is a great actor, and it's a great spin on the well-worn "madness equals clarity" concept. Tilda Swinton's bitch-on-wheels company rep bad guy? Yeah, it's been done, but never quite this way and not lately quite so well.
What sets this apart from it's predecessors, aside from the actors and the fresh takes they bring to characters just this side of archetypal is the structure; which suggests that the movie is as aware as we are of how much familiar ground it's covering. The chemical company covering up pollution bit, it seems to know, we're all familiar with after "Civil Action" and "Erin Brokovich," and so it drops the intrigue and conspiracy story mostly into the background and zeroes in on the semi-tangential outer lives of the character's occupying it; taking us through the harried paces of Clayton's gambling woes and family/financial wreckage and the twitchy, obsessive and profoundly sad-looking preparation rituals of Swinton's company hitwoman. And, again, while the whole "insane man who's actually never been saner" thing has been done to DEATH Wilkinson makes it feel entirely fresh - it's the first time I've bought this kind of character in a long time.
Since it's using genre-familiarity as a shortcut past exposition and into character-study, it's largely forgivable that most of Clayton's "heroic-journey" you're likely to see coming. Yes, the sinister corporate types are probably hiding something really sinister to drive Arthur over the edge, he's probably got the goods on them, Swinton's character is probably going to go all-the-way-bad to protect her masters and Michael Clayton is almost certainly going to be tempted remain safely in moral limbo rather than risk finally fighting on the side of good. Not everything has to re-invent the wheel, so long as it still rolls.
Great characters, good movie, go see it.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
Thursday, 11 October 2007
Anne Coulter: Anti-Semite
Yes, yes, I know. Anne Coulter isn't worth taking seriously. It's a schtick: Let's have a leggy blonde say incendiary stuff so that then it's out there and we can eventually talk it up. I get that.
Still, I'm always more than a little giddy whenever a moment like this befalls a vanguard of the so-called "Religious Right" and reveals their true nature It's almost like clockwork: Scratch the surface of a Christian (or Muslim) religious extremist, and you'll find a Anti-Semite almost every time. (See: Mel "Passion" Gibson.) And so, in the grand-tradition of "Sugar Tits," here's Mrs. Coulter on CNBC's "Big Idea" theorizing to (Jewish) host Donny Deutsch that the world would be better off if the Jews were all converted to Christianity - or in her terms, the Jews need to be "perfected." (the clip includes TV commercials, zip past them for her ludicrous "explanation" of herself:
Mrs. Coulter, if you can here me: Just for reference's sake, I heard about this because my radio-surfing took me past Michael Savage, who was condemning you for it. MICHAEL SAVAGE. Do you have any idea how much of a creep you have to be for Michael Savage to be able to take a legitimate moral highground on you??
Still, I'm always more than a little giddy whenever a moment like this befalls a vanguard of the so-called "Religious Right" and reveals their true nature It's almost like clockwork: Scratch the surface of a Christian (or Muslim) religious extremist, and you'll find a Anti-Semite almost every time. (See: Mel "Passion" Gibson.) And so, in the grand-tradition of "Sugar Tits," here's Mrs. Coulter on CNBC's "Big Idea" theorizing to (Jewish) host Donny Deutsch that the world would be better off if the Jews were all converted to Christianity - or in her terms, the Jews need to be "perfected." (the clip includes TV commercials, zip past them for her ludicrous "explanation" of herself:
Mrs. Coulter, if you can here me: Just for reference's sake, I heard about this because my radio-surfing took me past Michael Savage, who was condemning you for it. MICHAEL SAVAGE. Do you have any idea how much of a creep you have to be for Michael Savage to be able to take a legitimate moral highground on you??
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
NOW SHOWING AT A BLOG NEAR YOU
The purgatory that is the Fall movie season continues in megaplexes everywhere, but there are still a few things to go see if you look hard enough.
Fr. V over at Adam's Ale got a chance to see Toronto Film Festival favorite Bella and was so impressed that he's looking for some folks in Cleveland "to get together again for eats, a movie, and discussion" just so he can see it again when it opens wide on October 26th. The movie has no monsters, but it does have Eduardo Verastegui, the Brad Pitt of Latin America, which is almost the same thing isn't it? (Actually, I here this one is pretty good.)
Speaking of Brad Pit, um... the Brad Pitt of the United States, khall356 from Some Have Hats has a few words to say about Mr. Pitt's latest opus, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. (A movie undoubtedly named by the same long-winded guy who titles all of the Vatican's official documents.) It seems khall356 was enjoying himself until one scene which "was just wrong in as many ways as a thing can be wrong." But you'll have to go there to find out what it was.
Just in case you think khall356 is overreacting a bit, be sure to check out Barbara Nicolosi's review of The Assassination of blah blah blah at Church of the Masses where she runs into the same brick wall. Barbara notes, "As my friend said, "They just demolished the fourth wall with a nuclear weapon." Terrible, stupid, distracting call."
Once you've had your fill of all that art house goodness, head on home and pop some guilty pleasures into the DVD player. Archistrategos from Ecce Ego, Quia Vocasti Me offers up another viewing of Mosura tai Gojira, better known here in the states as Mothra against Godzilla. (If one of your artsy friends calls and wants to know what you're watching, you can always give them the Japanese name and they'll think you've got the Sundance channel on or something.) In a really cool geek-out moment, Archistrategos recognizes the language sung by the miniature Mothra twins (if you're reading this blog, you know exactly what I'm talking about) and translates the words for us.
And just because I truly love the imagery in many of the old silent movies, Daniel Mitsui at The Lion and The Cardinal has posted some image caps from F.W. Murnau's 1926 classic Faust. They truly do not make them like this anymore. Mr. Mitsui vehemently agrees, "Since then, the cinema has been a blight upon culture, producing nothing valuable enough to justify its existence." So, it's safe to assume he's probably not a reader of this blog, huh?
That's just as well, as it's hard to imagine any movie here would convince him to change his opinion anyway. Certainly not what we're reviewing in a few days. See you then.
The Pigs Are Flying
Today, 10/10/07, as part of their big fall announcements, Nintendo gave the video game world some bad news: "Super Smash Bros.," the hotly-anticipated Wii installment of their insanely popular fighting game featuring company-branded mascot characters, is being delayed until January in Japan - and, possibly, in the U.S./Europe as well. Major, major bummer.
But, this being Nintendo, they managed to drop a second bit of related fanservice news so "kickass" that it's probably going to neutralize the bummer of an extended wait - maybe even render it moot altogether. This is IT. The big one. The clash of titans that gamers have been waiting for since the early-90s. The three words that "Smash Bros." fans thought they would never hear:
SONIC. THE. HEDGEHOG. Not a joke. Not a dream. Not an imaginary tale. Just look at the video:
I wonder if younger gamers (I'm talking 16 and under, maybe older too) have any frame of reference for why oldschoolers like me consider this so huge. Back in the day, in the "Golden Age" of the Nintendo vs. Sega console wars - the ultracompetitive battle that, arguably, produced one of the greatest if not THE greatest periods in gaming EVER... Mario and Sonic were the Red Sox and Yankees of video game mascots. This was, among gamers, THE schoolyard/comic store (we didn't have the internet, so all fanboy arguing was done face to face - can you imagine?) "who would/should win?" debate of all time. If THIS had happened then... if it was possible to actually turn on a game and semi-physically settle it in virtual hand-to-hand combat... my God, "Halo 3" millions be damned, they'd still be counting the money that would've earned.
Yes, a small amount of the inherent "no WAY!" of this is diminished by the fact that we'll see the onetime Coke and Pepsi of game heroes sharing screen-space and competing before this in "Mario & Sonic Olympics"... it's not the same thing. Seeing M&S and their various allies running a relay or playing tennis is ONE thing. But this... just that one moment in the middle of these two legends facing eachother down on the platform and trading punches... geez, there just aren't any words for what it's like to actually SEE that.
But, this being Nintendo, they managed to drop a second bit of related fanservice news so "kickass" that it's probably going to neutralize the bummer of an extended wait - maybe even render it moot altogether. This is IT. The big one. The clash of titans that gamers have been waiting for since the early-90s. The three words that "Smash Bros." fans thought they would never hear:
SONIC. THE. HEDGEHOG. Not a joke. Not a dream. Not an imaginary tale. Just look at the video:
I wonder if younger gamers (I'm talking 16 and under, maybe older too) have any frame of reference for why oldschoolers like me consider this so huge. Back in the day, in the "Golden Age" of the Nintendo vs. Sega console wars - the ultracompetitive battle that, arguably, produced one of the greatest if not THE greatest periods in gaming EVER... Mario and Sonic were the Red Sox and Yankees of video game mascots. This was, among gamers, THE schoolyard/comic store (we didn't have the internet, so all fanboy arguing was done face to face - can you imagine?) "who would/should win?" debate of all time. If THIS had happened then... if it was possible to actually turn on a game and semi-physically settle it in virtual hand-to-hand combat... my God, "Halo 3" millions be damned, they'd still be counting the money that would've earned.
Yes, a small amount of the inherent "no WAY!" of this is diminished by the fact that we'll see the onetime Coke and Pepsi of game heroes sharing screen-space and competing before this in "Mario & Sonic Olympics"... it's not the same thing. Seeing M&S and their various allies running a relay or playing tennis is ONE thing. But this... just that one moment in the middle of these two legends facing eachother down on the platform and trading punches... geez, there just aren't any words for what it's like to actually SEE that.
Monday, 8 October 2007
SHORT FEATURE: MARY-KATE AND ASHLEY CONQUER THE BED BUGS
Hmm, we seem to be having double vision this week.
Since I found it necessary to make mention of some of poor Mary-Kate's personal problems in the most recent Newsreel, let's even the tables a bit by letting her and her sister Ashley be the heroes this time around. Here's a little something from one of the NYC Flicker Super 8 Festivals. Although I'm fairly certain the animator considered the inclusion of praying to Jesus as nothing more than a punchline, he might be pretty surprised how close to the truth he actually is. Fr. Thomas D. Williams reminds us that "we may not feel it right away, but all experienced pray-ers know, that God answers every prayer we utter. True, he does so in his own time and in his own way, but that is part of the adventure of living a personal relationship with your Creator." You just never know in what unexpected (sometimes even bizarre) ways prayers will be answered.
Of course, waiting for the answer can be the hard part. Father Joel Sember, one of a pair of identical twins recently ordained to the priesthood, remarks that, "My generation is in a bit of a hurry and expect things to be instant. And so we might say a few words to God, listen for 30 seconds and say, 'Well, I guess he's not talking to me.' But God works very slowly. ... He'll wait and let us talk. And wait until we're good and finished before he'll respond."
Sunday, 7 October 2007
WEEKLY NEWSREEL
Good evening Mr. & Mrs. Catholic, and all you other Christians at sea. Under the banner of "today's gossip is tomorrow's Bible study", the Newsreel has always taken a sarcastically humorous look at the craziness surrounding the world of celebrity culture. But not everything s funny. Now off to press.
Back in August, the Newsreel reported on an accident which occurred during the filming of Tom Cruise's latest work in progress Valkyrie in which a number of extras were injured. Although the courts eventually ruled that the extras themselves were at fault, the Newsreel took issue with the German government's handling of the press release which amounted to "nobody of any importance was harmed in the incident." We are more impressed with Warner Brothers recent response to another incident, as reported by Variety, in which a special effects technician was killed while working on the upcoming Batman: The Dark Knight. "The studio said producers, cast and crew "are deeply saddened by this tragedy and their hearts and prayers go out to the family and loved ones of the deceased." To that we can only add our own prayers for the technician himself, "In company with Christ, Who died and now lives, may he rejoice in Your kingdom, where all our tears are wiped away."
The accident itself appears to have been a freak occurrence rather than a result of reckless behavior, but when combined with a completely unrelated story, it caused us here at the Newsreel to pause and think. Buried in the Hollywood After Dark section of the National Enquirer website is a small snippet which reads in it's entirety, "We found Mary-Kate Olsen celebrating her new legal drinking age status by downing glass after glass of champagne with a group of pals at Hyde Sept. 19. MK was chain-smoking at her table." It is public knowledge that Ms. Olsen has spent time in rehab for anorexia nervosa and a rumored drug problem, but the question arises, why did we need to know about her recent night out? Obviously we at the Newsreel can never condone excesses or self-abuse, but we have to wonder what kind of stresses are unduly placed on celebrities who can't even spend an evening out without some paparazzi sitting at the next table with a notepad and camera counting their drinks and waiting for a mistake to happen.
The Catechism reminds us that "the means of social communication (especially the mass media) can give rise to a certain passivity among users, making them less than vigilant consumers of what is said or shown. Users should practice moderation and discipline in their approach to the mass media." Without question, we at The B-Movie Catechism are inveterate consumers of mass media. But we always strive to keep our entertainment in its proper place and prospective. Let us say that someone like Whoopi Goldberg says something stupid in a public forum. This is fair game to comment on. But if she says it at a dinner table with friends, then we as consumers have no right to have the conversation taped and played back to us just to feed our desire for more celebrity news. As in the case of Ms. Olsen, doing so may even pressure a person to sin further. Do we even need to provide a quote from the Catechism here? As for the story involving the death of the technician, while this particular incident turned out to be an accident, we must be vigilant as consumers that our desire to view ever more dangerous stunts and breath-taking images do not pressure those in the entertainment industry to overstep their training and risk their own health and safety. Even in our casual viewing we must not become passive in our awareness of the temporal and spiritual consequences of our actions.
We're not too often given to screeds here at the Newsreel, so we thank everyone for their forbearance. Assuming that we've ever been funny to begin with, we promise to be so again next time. For now, we'll end as always with the words of the great Les Nessman. Good evening, and may the good news be yours.
Saturday, 6 October 2007
REVIEW: The Heatrbreak Kid (2007)
The Farrelly Brothers' Formula is as follows: A sappy romantic comedy, told primarily from the perspective of the male lead, infused with envelope-pushing moments of can-you-show-that-in-a-movie scatology so that teenaged boys don't realize they're watching a chick flick. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but there it is. Here, it's been applied to the basic structure of a 1970s Neil Simon flick in place of the original's very of-the-moment cynicism about the romantic ideals of love and marriage... and I have to wonder if the Brothers are as gobsmacked as I am that it didn't work.
The basic premise is the same: Eddie (Ben Stiller) a lifetime bachelor, just got married in a hurry (short-version: mid-life crisis) to the beautiful Lila (Malin Ackerman, who's now the first trouble-sign for "Watchmen" if her turn here isn't an unfortunate fluke) and headed of to Cabo for the honeymoon - whereupon he quickly discovers A.) that Lila is really, really irritating and wrong for him; and B.) that the (single) woman of his dreams (Michelle Monaghan) is at the same hotel.
That's a funny premise, and it worked the first time around thanks to an honest understanding of the it's own potentials and implications: It was cynical, but also practical, about the idealizing of both marriage AND singlehood. It's characters, in the spirit of 1970s dark comedy, were all largely selfish and unidealized creatures - in other words, they were fully human: Charles Grodin as the hero was, while not "evil," an egocentric jerk. His main dissapointment with his new wife is that she's too much oriented toward the traditional marriage-ideal - she wants to be June Cleaver, and he's built more for a Desperate Housewife. That's why he's so enamored of the "other woman," a blonde ice-queen played by Cybil Shepherd: She doesn't "need" or even all that much "want" him... their made for eachother. Probably.
The Farrelly's have populated their version with their usual collection of slightly-grosser Hollywood rom-com superbeings, which is the foundation of it's rapid ruin: This story just doesn't work when the wandering husband and the other woman are both genuinely good, decent people "destined" to be perfect for eachother. A guy who's as movie-hero good and decent as we're told Eddie is would NEVER chase another woman on his honeymoon unless pushed to a ridiculous extreme, which requires that Lila become a ridiculous caricature of body-functions, personality-flaws and dark-backstory that's just disasterously over-the-top to - It's not enough to make her "wrong" for Eddie, she has to become a bad person.
Perfect example: Early on, much is made of Lila's deviated-septum which leads to her accidentally spraying liquids (and more) from her nose. It's understandable that Eddie would be a bit grossed out to learn this, and at the prospect of having to deal with it for the rest of his life, but for a mere physical tic to help his eye start wandering would make him slightly less than a 100% worth-pulling-for hero; so soon enough we're told that her condition is the result of a prior cocaine habit. Eddie is put-off and more-than-a-little frightened by her, but the audience is told to HATE her. The Farrelly's aren't misogynists, but in trying too hard to make us root for Eddie unconditionally they've engaged in the kind of woman-hating that you rarely see outside of films made by women.
Likewise, it'd be ridiculous to assume that someone who's as nice/smart as we're told Miranda is wouldn't catch on tho things sooner. This requires a truly hackneyed bit of contrivance, like something out of the worst sitcom, wherein she believes something about "Eddie's wife" that isn't precisely true, and phrases it in such a way so that Eddie thinks everything is okay when, in fact, it isn't. Dumb.
This is just bad writing and poor filmmaking, plain and simple. The actors, with the exception of a typically-annoying Carlos Mencia, are trying with nothing to work with. And what was surely hoped to be the "Mary Moment" of grossout humor falls totally flat. It's a bust. Pity.
FINAL RATING: 3/10
The basic premise is the same: Eddie (Ben Stiller) a lifetime bachelor, just got married in a hurry (short-version: mid-life crisis) to the beautiful Lila (Malin Ackerman, who's now the first trouble-sign for "Watchmen" if her turn here isn't an unfortunate fluke) and headed of to Cabo for the honeymoon - whereupon he quickly discovers A.) that Lila is really, really irritating and wrong for him; and B.) that the (single) woman of his dreams (Michelle Monaghan) is at the same hotel.
That's a funny premise, and it worked the first time around thanks to an honest understanding of the it's own potentials and implications: It was cynical, but also practical, about the idealizing of both marriage AND singlehood. It's characters, in the spirit of 1970s dark comedy, were all largely selfish and unidealized creatures - in other words, they were fully human: Charles Grodin as the hero was, while not "evil," an egocentric jerk. His main dissapointment with his new wife is that she's too much oriented toward the traditional marriage-ideal - she wants to be June Cleaver, and he's built more for a Desperate Housewife. That's why he's so enamored of the "other woman," a blonde ice-queen played by Cybil Shepherd: She doesn't "need" or even all that much "want" him... their made for eachother. Probably.
The Farrelly's have populated their version with their usual collection of slightly-grosser Hollywood rom-com superbeings, which is the foundation of it's rapid ruin: This story just doesn't work when the wandering husband and the other woman are both genuinely good, decent people "destined" to be perfect for eachother. A guy who's as movie-hero good and decent as we're told Eddie is would NEVER chase another woman on his honeymoon unless pushed to a ridiculous extreme, which requires that Lila become a ridiculous caricature of body-functions, personality-flaws and dark-backstory that's just disasterously over-the-top to - It's not enough to make her "wrong" for Eddie, she has to become a bad person.
Perfect example: Early on, much is made of Lila's deviated-septum which leads to her accidentally spraying liquids (and more) from her nose. It's understandable that Eddie would be a bit grossed out to learn this, and at the prospect of having to deal with it for the rest of his life, but for a mere physical tic to help his eye start wandering would make him slightly less than a 100% worth-pulling-for hero; so soon enough we're told that her condition is the result of a prior cocaine habit. Eddie is put-off and more-than-a-little frightened by her, but the audience is told to HATE her. The Farrelly's aren't misogynists, but in trying too hard to make us root for Eddie unconditionally they've engaged in the kind of woman-hating that you rarely see outside of films made by women.
Likewise, it'd be ridiculous to assume that someone who's as nice/smart as we're told Miranda is wouldn't catch on tho things sooner. This requires a truly hackneyed bit of contrivance, like something out of the worst sitcom, wherein she believes something about "Eddie's wife" that isn't precisely true, and phrases it in such a way so that Eddie thinks everything is okay when, in fact, it isn't. Dumb.
This is just bad writing and poor filmmaking, plain and simple. The actors, with the exception of a typically-annoying Carlos Mencia, are trying with nothing to work with. And what was surely hoped to be the "Mary Moment" of grossout humor falls totally flat. It's a bust. Pity.
FINAL RATING: 3/10
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