OUTTAKES #018

WEEKLY NEWSREEL

Good evening Mr. & Mrs. Catholic, and all you other Christians at sea. The dark prince of shock rock Alice Cooper has been quoted as saying, “Trashing your hotel room is easy. But being a Christian, that's a tough call. That's rebellion.” This week on the Newsreel we’re going to attempt both. Now off to press.

DATELINE: TEXAS - We begin with a story of geeks gone wild in which a thirteen year boy stole his father’s credit card, went on a $30,000 shopping spree with some friends, and ended up in a hotel room with two hookers… whom he had hired to play Halo with. Choosing the most ridiculous aspect of this story is tough, but we here at the Newsreel have to go with the excuse given by the two prostitutes who claimed they would never stoop so low as to accompany children to a hotel room, but were assured that the boys were actually midgets traveling with the carnival so everything was hunky-dory. The (ahem) ladies only became suspicious when their customers broke out an X-Box rather than take advantage of the services on offer. Gentle readers, we here at the Newsreel desperately wanted to call BS on this story, but alas, it appears to be factual to some extent. And catechetically it’s a veritable goldmine. Where do we start digging? Do we discuss the paragraphs on the duties of children? (2214-2220) The duties of parents? (2221-2231) How about prostitution? (2355) Let’s just go with paragraph 1746 which begins with “Imputability and responsibility for an action can be diminished or even nullified by ignorance…” Lucky for everyone involved here wouldn’t you say?

DATELINE: MASSACHUSETTS - Speaking of bad children, perhaps you remember the legend of Lizzie Borden, the young lady who allegedly took an axe and whacked her father and stepmother to death on August 4, 1892. If not, the first part of this feature does a nice job recapping the events. The second part of the story is what holds our interest this week, however, as the old Borden home is currently open for business as The Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast. And doing quite well it seems as the waiting list for those who want to stay in the same room in which Abby Durfee Borden met her bloody fate is over a year long. As odd as it seems, murder sites often prove to be popular tourist attractions with even the most obscure ones bringing in the dough. Before it was converted to use as a condominium, Room 132A of the Winfield Apartments in Scottsdale, Arizona was voted the city’s best unknown tourist attraction. Its claim to fame: Bob Crane of Hogan’s Heroes was found bludgeoned to death with his own camera tripod there. There are obviously numerous reasons why such places are popular, but Pope John Paul II gives us a good starting point for considering the philosophical side of the issue. Writing as Cardinal Wojtyla at the time, he speculates that “Good is something ordinary and natural because it conforms to the nature of the human being and the world; evil on the other hand, is always baffling because it conflicts with this nature. Perhaps this also explains why in literature and moral instruction more attention is paid to evil than to good.”

DATELINE: COSTA RICA - And finally, here’s a monkey invading someone’s hotel room and stealing their toothpaste. I hope room service changed the sheets before the guests turned in. There’s nothing involving horrible children or religion in this video that we know of; we just wanted to see a monkey run loose in a hotel. Everybody loves monkeys.

And with that, it’s time to check out until next time. As is our custom here at the Newsreel, we sign off with the words of the great Les Nessman, “Good evening, and may the good news be yours.”

VIDEO REVIEW: Star Wars - The Clone Wars

VIDEO REVIEW: Vicky Christina Barcelona

SHORT FEATURE: THE COBWEB HOTEL

Here’s a bizarre little Fleischer classic from 1936 in which a pair of newly-wed flies check into The Cobweb Hotel, but may not be able to check out come morning if they're not careful.

You might remember that way back in our review of Blood of Heroes we mentioned how the Catechism doesn't have too high an opinion of intentionally or unnecessarily injuring one's own body. “Life and physical health are precious gifts entrusted to us by God." it says, "We must take reasonable care of them, taking into account the needs of others and the common good.” Well, maybe I''m being too hard on these two post-nuptial nitwits, but if you happen to be a fly, and you purposely check into a hotel run by a spider five times your size, aren't you just begging for a little bodily injury? (The last time I checked, being masticated on wasn't a walk in the park.) It's a small stretch, but this would seem to me to fall into the category of placing oneself in the Occasion of Sin, an external circumstance which entices you to do wrong.

The Modern Catholic Dictionary reminds us that if the danger of the Occasion "is certain and probable (Big freakin' spider is going to eat you!), the occasion is proximate; if the danger is slight, the occasion becomes remote. It is voluntary if it can easily be avoided. (You don't have to sign the register, schmuck.) There is no obligation to avoid a remote occasion unless there is probable danger of its becoming proximate. There is a positive obligation to avoid a voluntary proximate occasion of sin even though the occasion of evildoing is due only to human weakness." Look, guys, I wanted my honeymoon to start as quick as the next guy, but if the first hotel I passed had a sign out front which said Bates Motel, I think I could have managed to do the right thing and wait for the next one.

COMING ATTRACTIONS: MOTEL HELL

Nick Alexander stopped by to recommend we visit a little out of the way spot he discovered while cruising late night television. Heck, he even went and recorded his fourth album so we’d have something to listen to on the way there. So without further ado, let’s pack our bags and take a trip to check out this little gem from the same director who gave us 1997’s Mother Teresa: In the Name of God's Poor and 1999’s Mary, Mother of God. (You can’t make this stuff up, folks.) That’s right, it’s the 1980 cult classic, Motel Hell.

A quick warning on the trailer, there’s a heavy dose of implied violence, so the squeamish may want to give it a pass. And if you have swinophobia, for Heaven’s sake, go back before it’s too late!

ROLLER BOOGIE

THE TAGLINE

“It’s love on wheels!”

THE PLOT

Terry Barkley is young, pretty, rich, and a prodigy on the flute, so of course, she’s completely miserable. All she really wants to do is roller skate. Bobby James is young, pretty, impoverished, and a prodigy on roller skates, so of course, he’s blissfully happy. All he really wants to do is roller skate… in the Olympics... if they ever get around to adding it as a sport. As fate would have it, when the pair meet at a Venice Beach roller disco, Bobby is seeking a partner for the big roller boogie contest and Terry is looking for a skating teacher. After a few false starts, the pair agree to put aside their differences in order to help each other fulfill their dreams. But it’s not going to be easy. Not only do Terry’s parents want her to quit neglecting her flute for the evils of roller skating, but the local gangsters want to shut down the roller rink so they can develop the land. The tension mounts as the night of the roller boogie draws near. Will Terry and Bobby’s burgeoning romance transcend the class boundaries which separate them? Will Terry learn to skate like a pro in time for the big roller boogie event? Will there even be a contest if Terry, Bobby and the roller tribe can’t find a way to stop the mob from carrying out their sinister plans? All the answers will be revealed neath the fractured light of the spinning disco ball.

THE POINT

The August 1979 issue of Roller Skating Magazine had this to say about Jim Bray. “[He] is one of the most talented young freestyle skaters in the USA… Jim has skated competitively for 12 years, having won every Artistic Singles event from Primary Boys to Senior Men's in his Regional competitions. In National meets, he has won in all divisions with the exception of Senior Mens (in which he placed second in 1977 and third in 1978). Altogether, this young freestylist has about 275 trophies to show for his skating efforts.” With all that raw skating talent, it was obvious what Jim Bray should do in the year 1979. He should act in a movie.
Now hold on, it’s not quite as crazy as it sounds. Although roller skating has been around since 1760 when John Joseph Merlin strapped wheels on his 13 year old grandson and shoved him down the street, it wasn’t until the late 1970s that roller skating made the jump from leisure time activity to pop culture phenomenon. And there was no bigger year for roller skating than 1979. That’s the year you couldn’t switch on a TV without seeing Scooby-Doo running from the Neon Phantom of the Roller Disco or Ponch and Jon holding the first annual CHIPS roller disco charity event or even Laverne & Shirley going on a roller skating date with two midgets. With all that hype It was only natural that movie makers would want to capitalize on the craze as well. To this end the Olivia Newton John/ELO extravaganza Xanadu was given the green light and went into production. But such a massive project takes time to complete so Xanadu didn’t actually see release until 1980 when (arguably) roller disco was already on its way out. (A tough break for Roller Skating Barbie who also made her debut that year.) As usual, it was the low budget B-Movie producers who managed to churn out the flicks while the fad was still in high swing. And they gave us not just one, but two roller disco movies before year’s end.
Now, if you wanted to see people act (sort of), you bought a ticket to Skatetown USA, yet another Romeo and Juliet knockoff boasting such star power as Scott Baio, Melissa Sue Anderson, Ruth Buzzi, Flip Wilson, and some new guy named Patrick Swayze. But if you preferred to see people actually skate, you chose instead to plop down your money for Roller Boogie featuring Linda Blair and… a bunch of people you’ve never heard of who knew how to skate, including roller skating champion Jim Bray. And you know what, he’s really not THAT bad in the film. Oh, Bray’s no Patrick Swayze; he’d never go on to star in higher quality movies like Red Dawn or Roadhouse. In fact, he’d never go on to star in any movie whatsoever. But for an athlete tossed in front of a movie camera for the first time, his acting is okay, nowhere near as bad as it could have been. (One day, if I’m feeling masochistic, we’ll discuss Kurt Thomas in Gymkata and you will KNOW how bad it could have been.) But more important than his acting, maybe even more important than his skating, is the fact that Bray looks authentic and at home in his late 70s clothes while doing his late 70s things down at the local late 70s hang outs in late 70s Venice Beach.
Because in the end, that’s really the main draw to Roller Boogie, isn’t it? It’s a time capsule, a ride down memory lane. So, if for some crazed reason you’re feeling nostalgic for a trip back to the days of velour jumpsuits, blue eyeshadow, and body glitter, but you don’t want the over-stylized Hollywood version of the disco night life you get in films like Saturday Night Fever, then Roller Boogie is just the movie for you. Forget Travolta’s Tony Manero, it’s Jim Bray and the cast of Roller Boogie who truly look like the people you bumped into on every corner in the late 70s. Seriously, except for perhaps Linda Blair, on whom the producers seemed to have blown their entire $25 wardrobe budget, everyone in this movie looks like they rolled out of bed, picked something to wear out of their own closet, and showed up for work. For those who were around during that time period, Roller Boogie is the kind of movie you watch and exclaim (perhaps with jubilant remembrance, perhaps with abject shame), “Hey, I used to have a shirt just like that!” (And God help me, I did.)
And it’s not just the clothes. For the cost of your rental, you also get the obligatory kid with an afro and suitcase-sized boom box. You get Hari Krishnas banging on tambourines. You get Boogie Wonderland and 14 other beat-heavy disco tracks. You get more feathered hair than a full season of Charlie’s Angels (who, by the way, just happened to go to Venice Beach to track down a kidnapped skater during the 1979 episode “Angels On Wheels”). You even get moms on Valium! How authentic is that? Almost everything you remember about pop culture in the late 70s is right here in Roller Boogie, completely unburdened by distractions like acting, writing, or direction. Who needs I Love The 70s with its gaggle of out of work celebrities cluttering up the works with their unfunny commentary? If you’re overcome with nostalgia for 1979, this movie is the fix you’re looking for.
Of course, there are going to be those who believe anyone feeling nostalgic over this time period must actually BE crazed. And Dr. Johannes Hofer would agree. Hofer was the Swiss doctor who first coined the term “nostalgia” in 1688 to describe the crippling, sometimes deadly, homesickness being experienced by Swiss nationals stuck abroad. Over the next 200 years “nostalgia” caught on as a diagnosis and the term was used to describe any mental disorder in which an inflicted person felt pain because he was not in his native land, or feared never to see it again. During the U. S. Civil War literally thousands of cases of nostalgia were diagnosed. Observing prisoners of war, one soldier wrote home in a letter "They  became homesick and disheartened. They lost all interest in everything, and would sit in the same attitude hour after hour day after day, with their backs against the wall and their gaze fixed on the floor at my feet... they were dying of nostalgia." Things aren’t quite so dire these days. The psychiatric community has downgraded Nostalgia from a crippling mental disorder to a simple mental state. A good thing, too, as some of the original treatments for nostalgia included purging, opium injections, applying leeches, and in the case of one Russian soldier, being buried alive. (Well, in fairness, he WAS cured.) So, be at ease, if you sometimes find yourself overcome with nostalgia, you’re no longer considered to be a lunatic. But you just might be a sinner.
I suppose that needs further explanation, huh? Well, it starts with how we define nostalgia these days. A 1992 article from the Journal of Advertising (whose readership has a creepy, yet vested interest in knowing how your mind works) pieced together a nice definition of nostalgia from numerous psychoanalytic sources. Modern nostalgia “signifies a bittersweet longing for home [Holak and Havlena 1992]. It is considered an emotional state in which an individual yearns for an idealized or sanitized version of an earlier time period. This yearning for yesterday [Davis 1979] is expressed by the individual's attempts to recreate some aspect of the past in present life, either by reproduction of past activities or by the recollection of symbolic representations in memory. However, the past that is vivified is one that never existed, for it is so idealized that any negative traces are screened out [Hirsch 1992].” Obviously, this definition concentrates on the negative connotations of nostalgia while ignoring its lighter side. Popping in a DVD of Roller Boogie for a few self-depreciating laughs over the way things used to be isn’t the kind of nostalgia we're talking about here. Watching Roller Boogie and wishing everyone had Farrah-hair again because you imagine that 1979 was the most perfect time in recorded history IS.
But what exactly does that have to do with sin? Well, back in 1947, way before Vatican II, Pope Pius XII wrote an Encyclical dealing with reforms in liturgy entitled Mediator Dei. Among other things he condemned what he referred to as liturgical "antiquarianism". This is the obsessive desire to return certain aspects of the liturgy to the state they were in some time in the distant past, usually the first century, under the assumption that the old forms must be better simply because the early Christians did it that way. Pius XII's logic behind condemning antiquarianism was simple. "The Church is without question a living organism” he wrote, “and as an organism, in respect of the sacred liturgy also, she grows, matures, develops, adapts and accommodates herself to temporal needs and circumstances, provided only that the integrity of her doctrine be safeguarded." Denying the Church its ability to change and grow in the way it presents doctrine and worship is a denial of the power of God to address people where they are in history; it's saying the Holy Spirit can only move in a certain narrowly-defined environment. That’s dangerous thinking.
And that’s something someone like me should always keep mind. You see, I have to confess that, crazy or not, I do wax nostalgic over the year 1979 from time to time. But it’s not because of the hairstyles or the roller skates and certainly not because of the shirts (God help me, the shirts). It’s because at 6:00 am on Easter morning of 1979, amidst a crowd adorned in polyester flare pants and wide ties, I was baptized into the Church. That being the case, you would think the only Church period I should reasonably feel any nostalgia for is the post Vatican II Church, felt banners and all. But I was twelve years old at the time, and not having been raised a Christian, it was all new to me. Over the years I’ve slowly come to appreciate a lot of the older forms of worship used in the Church throughout its history and wouldn’t mind seeing them creep back into the liturgy in some form. I can even make what I believe are some strong arguments using art theory and the Catechism as to why I think the things I prefer should be in there. But in my zeal to recite a few sentences in Latin, hear a piece of music written before 1970, or see an elaborate altar setting, I must always be on guard not to campaign for such things out of some false sense of nostalgia, out of some hope that their usage will bring about the return of an idealized non-existent golden age of worship. That way lies antiquarianism. And most likely disillusionment, because the past isn’t always what you think you remember it was. Except for 1979, which as Roller Boogie proves, is EXACTLY what you remember it was,shirts and all. I’ll leave it to you whether that's good or bad.

THE STINGER

One of the better examples of antiquarianism around these days is the Home Church movement. The folks at Housechurch.org, who ought to know, define Home Churches as "small groups of believers - even as few as 2 or 3 - who gather in the name of Jesus Christ. They are very similar to the earliest churches which were customarily designated in the Scriptures as household units.” They add later, “We earnestly pray for the Spirit of Knowledge to be poured out upon the whole Church and that the false doctrines and traditions which have crippled God's people will be exposed and forsaken." In short, we think organized religion sucks, so we’re going home, which is better anyway because that’s how the first Christians did it.
Home Churches represent nostalgia in its most negative sense as they try to recapture some idealized, sanitized past while ignoring all factual data about what was really going on with the first century Church. What the historical record indicates is that once the resources were available and the danger of persecution had passed, the early Christians quickly moved their worship out of their houses and into public structures. And this was not because the buildings themselves were important, but because they facilitated the gathering and organization of the ecclesial community, which absolutely was important. Take a look at the book of Titus if you need some Biblical proof, it consists almost entirely of St. Paul's instruction to the new Christians in Crete on how to quit winging it and start setting up an organized religion including (oh no) clergy. A person has to make a real effort to read the New Testament and completely miss the point that Christianity was meant to be organized from the beginning.

New OverThinker episode...

...over at the other blog. Have a look :)

http://gameoverthinker.blogspot.com/2008/08/episode-eleven-can-it-happen-to-us.html

SHORT FEATURE: THE FINNISH SCREAMING MEN’S CHOIR SING THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER

So I completely forgot about the all consuming back-to-school weekend and now I’m behind in my blogging… again. I’ll get up and running again tonight while my wife watches Olympic gymnastics. But to help buy another day or two to complete the next review, and in honor of all the athletes competing in the name of the United States over in Beijing, here’s a short clip from the documentary Screaming Men featuring Mieskuoro Huutajat, the Finnish screaming men’s choir, belting out their rendition of the Star Spangled Banner.

Okay, maybe it’s an odd choice for a tribute to the Olympians as there’s obviously some attempt at subversive political commentary going on here. It’s not really enough to get offended over,though, as Mieskuoro Huutajat hardly singles out the U. S. for satire. Their concert set list normally consists of screamed versions of traditional poems, old children’s songs and national anthems from countries all around the globe. And in the end, the jab at American jingoism falls a little flat when considered in that global context. Why? Well, it was actually the enlightened French and Finnish governments who gave Mieskuoro Huutajat tons of grief over the singing of their anthems while the Icelandic government flat out forbade their anthem from being sang in any altered form on Icelandic soil. Here in the States, however, Mieskuoro Huutajat are free to make fun of us just about any old way they see fit. I kind of appreciate that.

And let’s be honest here, we Americans are kind of gung-ho. I’ll admit that after decades of watching every over-the-top sports movie from Rollerball to The Blood of Heroes, the testosterone drenched ugly American in me really likes the cinematic image of hundreds of American athletes marching into a stadium in a Right Stuff slo-mo style while this performance blares on the soundtrack. Sorry Finnish screaming men's choir, probably not the reaction you wanted, but it’s true. Just my innate patriotic side kicking in, I suppose.

You know, the Catechism is okay with patriotism, noting that “the love and service of one's country follow from the duty of gratitude and belong to the order of charity.” In fact both St. Thomas Aquinas in the Summa and Pope Leo XIII in the Encyclical Sapientiae Christianae go so far as to imply that a patriotic love of country is a moral obligation based on natural law. Fr. Stephen A. Brown, S. J. is quick to remind us, however, that the "country" towards which the love of patriots is directed consists of three elements. “We love our country” he says, “because it is the land of our birth, because it is the land of our forefathers, and because it will be the land of those who shall come after us, perhaps of our sons and daughters.” With that understanding, it’s then easy to see that the “country” which a patriot loves is a distinctly separate notion from the political collectives of states, nations, and societies. Or simply put, governments aren’t the country. You can be genuinely devoted to the “country” while abhorring the condition of the “state” which occupies it.

And the reason that distinction is so important from a Christian perspective is that, like so many other things, true patriotism can teach us something about our relationship with God and his Church. As Pope Leo XIII noted, "If the natural law bids us give the best of our affection and of our devotedness to our native land so that the good citizen does not hesitate to brave death for his country, much more is it the duty of Christians to be similarly affected to the Church." We may gripe and grumble over those in charge, but when all is said and done, they will pass and the Church itself will abide, if for no other reason than Christ said it would. It is the Church which is the Christian’s native country, the land of his spiritual birth, the place which his heart calls him home too. Maybe there’s a better word for it, but we SHOULD feel a natural “patriotism” towards the Church.

Well, that wasn’t really that short of a short feature was it? But at least now I can comfortably sit in my chair and chant USA, USA, USA after Phelps cleans house tonight. It’s just a natural reflection of my spiritual state after all. Right?

Oh, just go watch the Finns scream some more; they’re funny.

VIDEO REVIEW: The X-Files: I Want To Believe

...Yeah.

It really, really, REALLY sucks.

INTERMISSION: SAY WHAT?

So I'm waiting on my next batch of movies from Netflix to arrive and decide to poke around the Vatican's website for awhile. The more I search, the more I keep running across document after document I want to read. But there's only so much time, you know. What to do? Well, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be great if I could listen to some of that stuff on my mp3 player while I'm typing or doing chores? So I popped over to SpokenText, one of those free online text to audio converters, and plugged in Pope Benedict XVI's recent July 2 address on St Paul. The results were listenable, albeit weird, kind of like having Stephen Hawkins for a lector during mass.

And then I got another idea.

My blog is predominantly text. My blog is listenable, albeit weird. My blog could be converted to audio! So I thought I would give SpokenText a challenge and feed it my recent review of Ator: The Fighting Eagle. The somewhat questionable results are below.

I don't recommend listening to the whole thing, but there are some highlights. I purposely chose the Ator review just to hear to the computer struggle through the paragraph containing Joe D'Amato's gazillion aliases. (You can almost hear the computer growing frustrated the longer it goes on.) I was also surprised that it couldn't handle the contraction "it's", preferring to spell it out instead. And, of course, some of the inflections the program's AI chooses are bizarre. (Although the amount it gets right is downright creepy, sure to bring nightmares to those who live in fear of the inevitable robot holocaust.) Most disturbing to me was the fact that after both my texts were translated, the spoken version of my Ator review clocked in at over 5 minutes longer than the Pope's address on St Paul. I'm not sure that's a good thing.

Anyway, it's a handy tool and I thought some of you might want to give it a try even if it's just for fun. Let me know if you come up with a translation I just have to hear.

NOW SHOWING AT A BLOG NEAR YOU

I haven’t done one of these Now Showing posts for awhile because with the advent of sites like Catholic Media Review, Good News Film Reviews, and Love2learn at the Movies, who needs me telling them where to find movie reviews? But I have to admit, as much as I appreciate those blogs, it’s rare that they venture near the same shelves of the video store which I frequent.

Fortunately, I can always count on the crew over at The Sci-Fi Catholic and their neverending love for all schlock Asian to provide me with a fix. Thanks to their recommendations I’m fairly certain The Buddhist Fist and Yo-Yo Girl Cop will be finding their way onto my Netflix queue.

Meanwhile, back here in the states, TheoFantastique takes a trip down memory lane and revisits one of my favorite horror movies from the 80’s, the excellent and inexplicably overlooked Dead & Buried. I could rave at lengths on this movie, but John Morehead does it so well I don’t have to.

I often bemoan the fact that studios so rarely produce a quality horror movie like Dead & Buried. And apparently I’m not alone. A recent article by Stephen King got David W. Congdon at The Fire and The Rose wondering why Hollywood can’t scare. I may just steal, er… I mean echo, some of his insights somewhere down the road.

But just because Hollywood can’t scare us onscreen doesn’t mean they can’t do so in real life. For example, take this quick clip of actor Stephen Baldwin introducing his upcoming Left Behind style comic The Remnant at this year’s Comic Con.

You’re making my job hard, Stephen. Cut it out. But I suppose I should probably be more charitable. After all, if Fr. Erik Richtsteig over at Orthometer can forgive John Voigt for fathering Angelina Jolie, then who am I to hold a little Pre-millennial Dispensationalist fervor against Mr. Baldwin?

Okay, it’s getting weird now. Best to end this one here. See you next time.