Here are the movies I've watched at The Quentin Estates during the final quarter of this calendar year. Even though Christmas is over, I must still be in the spirit of giving. How else can I explain awarding a B- to one of the most poorly acted movies I've ever witnessed, Miracle On 34th Street? Yes, Edmund Gwenn won a Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Kris Kringle, but the rest of the cast (Maureen O' Hara, John Payne and little Natalie Wood) is embarrassingly bad. On the flip side, I had the pleasure of watching Diner for the fourth time, and The Ox-Bow Incident is one of my five (or so) favorite westerns, notwithstanding its brief seventy-five minute running time.
On a housekeeping note, I have decided to break with tradition and postpone putting together my annual Movie Ratings Recap so that I can include movies I'll see in the theater in January. I addressed the timing issue in my January 12 and 15 posts, and after a consultation with my son Michael (who once told me he didn't read many of my reviews) I think the wait makes more sense. In that way, I can catch more movies which are released late in the year and include them in the Ratings Recap with other films from that same year. As you know, many of the film studios save what they anticipate will be their smash hits until the holiday season. Look for my Ratings Recap for 2012 in approximately thirty days.
1. A Christmas Carol (1984 Christmas story; George C. Scott is the curmudgeon who wants to treat Christmas the same as any other day, until he is enlightened by a series of ghosts) B+
2. Diner (1982 dramedy; Steve Guttenberg, Mickey Rourke, Kevin Bacon and their close buddies hang out at a diner in 1959 Baltimore, and try to solve each other's problems by applying philosophy and street smarts) A
3. Jules And Jim (1962 dramedy; German Oskar Werner is married to Frenchwoman Jeanne Moreau, and neither of them can live without their good friend, Frenchman Henri Serre) B+
4. Miracle On 34th Street (1947 Christmas story; Maureen O'Hara hires white-bearded Edmund Gwenn to play Santa Clause for Macy's Department Store, but the old guy really claims to be Kris Kringle) B-
5. The Moon Is Blue (1953 comedy; Bachelor architect William Holden invites sweet and virtuous Maggie McNamara up to his NYC apartment, where his playboy neighbor David Niven flirts with Maggie and chides William) B+
6. The Ox-Bow Incident (1943 western; Dana Andrews and Anthony Quinn are accused by a posse of cattle rustling and murder, and the posse turns into a sham make-shift jury) A-
7. The Seven Year Itch (1955 comedy; Tom Ewell, whose wife is out of town for the summer, lets his imagination get carried away when blonde bombshell Marilyn Monroe moves into his apartment building) C+
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Movie Review: "Hyde Park On Hudson"
"Hyde Park On Hudson": A-. Franklin Delano Roosevelt was the President of the United States who led us out of the Great Depression and was still in charge when the country entered the Second World War. He is typically listed among the top four or five greatest presidents in our nation's history. It would be easy to gather enough data to produce a cinematic blockbuster extravaganza about FDR's presidency. I can't imagine a Steven Spielberg or James Cameron bi-epic coming in at less than three hours. Even the great philosopher, Mick Jagger, once said, "Anything worth doing is worth overdoing." Luckily, director Roger Michell does not subscribe to the Jagger School Of Excess. Instead, Hyde Park On Hudson is about what transpires over the course of a special two-day weekend at the upstate New York summer home of the President's mother. What makes it special is a visit by the King and Queen of England, George (the stuttering "Bertie") and Elizabeth.
Everyone knew the reason for the Royal Family's visit. Germany was hellbent on overrunning Europe, and England was standing in its way. With memories of horrible World War One less than two decades removed, many Americans did not want to intrude into what they saw as Europe's problems. Not only that, the betting money this time was on Germany prevailing, so did we really want to cast our lot with the losing side? The King, accompanied by the Queen, was coming to persuade the President not only to remain Britain's ally, but to enter the fray. Roosevelt knew the American public's sentiment to remain neutral; after all, he was a politician. So, he decided to have the Royals come to the Hyde Park estate, out of the limelight, instead of the media mecca which was Washington.
The story is mostly narrated from the point of view of FDR's distant cousin, Daisy (Laura Linney). She first meets the President (Bill Murray) on a visit that she expected would last less than one afternoon. Instead, she and he find a chemistry that results in an affair, hidden in plain sight from the rest of the friends, relatives and staff who populate Hyde Park. The President's wife, Eleanor (Olivia Williams), is portrayed as an odd duck. She lives in a separate house with a group of women whose main occupation is furniture making. When she is at Hyde Park, she assumes a role more akin to a senior advisor or a chief of staff than that of a First Lady. Eleanor never questions the closeness which her husband has with Daisy or with Missy (Elizabeth Marvel), Roosevelt's secretary.
FDR uses a specially equipped car which enables him to drive without the use of his legs, a physical condition brought on by polio. Roosevelt and Daisy manage to go for long drives through the countryside, beautifully captured on film by cinematographer Lol Crawley. During one of those drives, Roosevelt shows Daisy a newly constructed house, and tells her he hopes she will use it to think of him when he's gone. Neither of them brings up the subject of Eleanor, how she figures into their present or future plans. The President never complains about his wife. Indeed, he rarely mentions her at all. This is in keeping with the general tranquility of FDR's temperament, as interpreted by Murray. Although he is physically handicapped, give him a drink and light up his smoke and he is good to go. If that is truly how the real FDR was, kudos to the producers for selecting Murray for the role.
The best parts of the movie are the scenes involving King George and Queen Elizabeth. The Roosevelt family, particularly the President's mother, are nervous about entertaining such important guests. Only Roosevelt himself merely takes it in stride. The King and Queen are likewise jittery, concerned about how things will work out on their first trip to America. One of the more humorous scenes occurs when the Royals attempt to "meet some Americans" while their small motorcade drives through pastoral New York on the way to Hyde Park. All they get is a disinterested wave from a farmer working on his tractor. Later, after the King and Queen are shown to their Hyde Park quarters, they worry that the Roosevelts are subtly ridiculing them by assigning them to a bedroom with wallpaper depicting British soldiers from the War of 1812 as cartoon characters. And what about the menu for the next day's picnic? Hot dogs? Ye gods! Samuel West and Olivia Colman are spectacular portraying King George and Queen Elizabeth. Take away the pomp and circumstance and they are (almost) regular people.
There are a few surprises about two-thirds of the way through the story. The movie leaves open the questions of what Roosevelt really felt toward Daisy, and whether Daisy was merely smitten or actually in love. What did Daisy see in him? Was it his intelligence? His mellow manner? His stamp collection? I am pretty sure it was not his good looks. We also come away from the movie wondering if some of the most important decisions regarding the direction of the United States and its allies were made over cocktails.
Everyone knew the reason for the Royal Family's visit. Germany was hellbent on overrunning Europe, and England was standing in its way. With memories of horrible World War One less than two decades removed, many Americans did not want to intrude into what they saw as Europe's problems. Not only that, the betting money this time was on Germany prevailing, so did we really want to cast our lot with the losing side? The King, accompanied by the Queen, was coming to persuade the President not only to remain Britain's ally, but to enter the fray. Roosevelt knew the American public's sentiment to remain neutral; after all, he was a politician. So, he decided to have the Royals come to the Hyde Park estate, out of the limelight, instead of the media mecca which was Washington.
The story is mostly narrated from the point of view of FDR's distant cousin, Daisy (Laura Linney). She first meets the President (Bill Murray) on a visit that she expected would last less than one afternoon. Instead, she and he find a chemistry that results in an affair, hidden in plain sight from the rest of the friends, relatives and staff who populate Hyde Park. The President's wife, Eleanor (Olivia Williams), is portrayed as an odd duck. She lives in a separate house with a group of women whose main occupation is furniture making. When she is at Hyde Park, she assumes a role more akin to a senior advisor or a chief of staff than that of a First Lady. Eleanor never questions the closeness which her husband has with Daisy or with Missy (Elizabeth Marvel), Roosevelt's secretary.
FDR uses a specially equipped car which enables him to drive without the use of his legs, a physical condition brought on by polio. Roosevelt and Daisy manage to go for long drives through the countryside, beautifully captured on film by cinematographer Lol Crawley. During one of those drives, Roosevelt shows Daisy a newly constructed house, and tells her he hopes she will use it to think of him when he's gone. Neither of them brings up the subject of Eleanor, how she figures into their present or future plans. The President never complains about his wife. Indeed, he rarely mentions her at all. This is in keeping with the general tranquility of FDR's temperament, as interpreted by Murray. Although he is physically handicapped, give him a drink and light up his smoke and he is good to go. If that is truly how the real FDR was, kudos to the producers for selecting Murray for the role.
The best parts of the movie are the scenes involving King George and Queen Elizabeth. The Roosevelt family, particularly the President's mother, are nervous about entertaining such important guests. Only Roosevelt himself merely takes it in stride. The King and Queen are likewise jittery, concerned about how things will work out on their first trip to America. One of the more humorous scenes occurs when the Royals attempt to "meet some Americans" while their small motorcade drives through pastoral New York on the way to Hyde Park. All they get is a disinterested wave from a farmer working on his tractor. Later, after the King and Queen are shown to their Hyde Park quarters, they worry that the Roosevelts are subtly ridiculing them by assigning them to a bedroom with wallpaper depicting British soldiers from the War of 1812 as cartoon characters. And what about the menu for the next day's picnic? Hot dogs? Ye gods! Samuel West and Olivia Colman are spectacular portraying King George and Queen Elizabeth. Take away the pomp and circumstance and they are (almost) regular people.
There are a few surprises about two-thirds of the way through the story. The movie leaves open the questions of what Roosevelt really felt toward Daisy, and whether Daisy was merely smitten or actually in love. What did Daisy see in him? Was it his intelligence? His mellow manner? His stamp collection? I am pretty sure it was not his good looks. We also come away from the movie wondering if some of the most important decisions regarding the direction of the United States and its allies were made over cocktails.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Movie Review: "Skyfall"
"Skyfall": B+. The James Bond franchise has had its hits and misses over the past fifty years. Most moviegoers of my vintage can probably name the first four Bond movies, Dr. No, From Russia With Love, Goldfinger (in my estimation the gold standard for this genre) and Thunderball. All starred Sean Connery and all were well received. The latest Bond offerings have met with mixed reviews. What do we expect out of a Bond film? After much deliberation, I have come up with four characteristics. First, there has to be an unforgettable villain. If the villain has one or two memorable henchmen, that is even better. Second, 007 has to utter clever and witty words which we, the viewers, know we ourselves are incapable of creating on the spur of the moment. Third, most of those witticisms should be directed at a woman who has the exotic looks of a supermodel, unapproachable by mere mortal males. And fourth, we don't expect over-the-top special effects, but we are on the lookout for nifty gadgets which are so futuristic that even Navy Seal Team 6 does not have them at their disposal.
On all four counts Skyfall does well, although I am not in love with it to the point of putting it on a pedestal with 1964's Goldfinger. I will, however, rank it up there with 1963's From Russia With Love, which many film critics liked the best. As I thought about Skyfall over the last several days following my attendance, my admiration of it has grown. Sean Connery will always be Agent 007 in my heart and mind, but I have no complaint with Daniel Craig. What Craig may lack in the "suave and debonaire department" compared to Connery he makes up for with his athleticism and physique. He is a physical specimen, so natually director Sam Mendes manages to find a scene or two where Bond is shirtless. The main villain is Silva, played by an actor, Javier Bardem, who seems to do his best work as a bad guy with bad hair. (Check out Bardem's pageboy 'do in No Country For Old Men.) One look at Silva's blonde hair in Skyfall is enough to convince the viewer that Silva is a whack job. French actress Berenice Marlohe plays the requisite hot babe, Severine. That may not be as catchy a name as Pussy Galore (from Goldfinger), but it will suffice. Severine first appears as cold as they come, hardly being distracted by the assassination of a guy who's sitting directly across the desk from her in an office. Later, she is more vulnerable while in the company of Bond.
What I like best about Skyfall are the surprises that come along every so often. For example, the opening sequence involves a madcap motorbike chase over the rooftops and through the city streets of Istanbul. Bond is pursuing a hit man named Patrice (Swedish actor Ola Rapace) who has stolen a hard drive which contains the names of the secret agents used by NATO across the globe. It is imperative that 007 regain control of the drive before the covers of all those operatives is blown. Bond and his prey both end up duking it out on top of a box car attached to a train careening through the mountains at high speed. As soon as they start fighting, we know what's going to happen, because we've witnessed this fight scenario many times before in films. As the train approaches a tunnel, the bad guy (in this case, Patrice) is going to put his head up at precisely the wrong moment, smacking his cranium on the arch above the tunnel, whereupon he will meet his maker and the good guy will utter some clever line to bid him farewell. Only that's not what happens! Surprise!
Another surprise, which is revealed too late in the movie for me to elaborate here, involves Bond's boss, M, the veteran espionage agency director. Judi Dench, who like John Goodman makes every movie in which she appears better, is outstanding as M. Because the buck stops with her, M is responsible for the theft of the coveted hard drive containing the secret information. Some exposed agents have already been killed, and the blood is figuratively on her hands. Her superior, Mallory (Ralph Fiennes), advises her to quit before she suffers the shame of being fired. The defiant M refuses, stating that she must finish making things right before she is done. Will she be able to go out on her own terms? M is the most multi-dimensional character in the story, and in a surprising twist, we learn of an unfortunate history between her and Silva.
After the first act we think we know why the movie's title is Skyfall. Another reason comes into play in the final act. Regardless of how many reasons there may be, I do love the song Skyfall by Adele. There have been many songs over the fifty year span of Bond films which have become hits. For my taste, Shirley Bassey's title tune Goldfinger from 1964 and Carly Simon's Nobody Does It Better (from 1977's The Spy Who Loved Me) are the two best. As a big Adelefan I am not impartial, but I'm saying here that her Skyfall makes it a trifecta.
On all four counts Skyfall does well, although I am not in love with it to the point of putting it on a pedestal with 1964's Goldfinger. I will, however, rank it up there with 1963's From Russia With Love, which many film critics liked the best. As I thought about Skyfall over the last several days following my attendance, my admiration of it has grown. Sean Connery will always be Agent 007 in my heart and mind, but I have no complaint with Daniel Craig. What Craig may lack in the "suave and debonaire department" compared to Connery he makes up for with his athleticism and physique. He is a physical specimen, so natually director Sam Mendes manages to find a scene or two where Bond is shirtless. The main villain is Silva, played by an actor, Javier Bardem, who seems to do his best work as a bad guy with bad hair. (Check out Bardem's pageboy 'do in No Country For Old Men.) One look at Silva's blonde hair in Skyfall is enough to convince the viewer that Silva is a whack job. French actress Berenice Marlohe plays the requisite hot babe, Severine. That may not be as catchy a name as Pussy Galore (from Goldfinger), but it will suffice. Severine first appears as cold as they come, hardly being distracted by the assassination of a guy who's sitting directly across the desk from her in an office. Later, she is more vulnerable while in the company of Bond.
What I like best about Skyfall are the surprises that come along every so often. For example, the opening sequence involves a madcap motorbike chase over the rooftops and through the city streets of Istanbul. Bond is pursuing a hit man named Patrice (Swedish actor Ola Rapace) who has stolen a hard drive which contains the names of the secret agents used by NATO across the globe. It is imperative that 007 regain control of the drive before the covers of all those operatives is blown. Bond and his prey both end up duking it out on top of a box car attached to a train careening through the mountains at high speed. As soon as they start fighting, we know what's going to happen, because we've witnessed this fight scenario many times before in films. As the train approaches a tunnel, the bad guy (in this case, Patrice) is going to put his head up at precisely the wrong moment, smacking his cranium on the arch above the tunnel, whereupon he will meet his maker and the good guy will utter some clever line to bid him farewell. Only that's not what happens! Surprise!
Another surprise, which is revealed too late in the movie for me to elaborate here, involves Bond's boss, M, the veteran espionage agency director. Judi Dench, who like John Goodman makes every movie in which she appears better, is outstanding as M. Because the buck stops with her, M is responsible for the theft of the coveted hard drive containing the secret information. Some exposed agents have already been killed, and the blood is figuratively on her hands. Her superior, Mallory (Ralph Fiennes), advises her to quit before she suffers the shame of being fired. The defiant M refuses, stating that she must finish making things right before she is done. Will she be able to go out on her own terms? M is the most multi-dimensional character in the story, and in a surprising twist, we learn of an unfortunate history between her and Silva.
After the first act we think we know why the movie's title is Skyfall. Another reason comes into play in the final act. Regardless of how many reasons there may be, I do love the song Skyfall by Adele. There have been many songs over the fifty year span of Bond films which have become hits. For my taste, Shirley Bassey's title tune Goldfinger from 1964 and Carly Simon's Nobody Does It Better (from 1977's The Spy Who Loved Me) are the two best. As a big Adelefan I am not impartial, but I'm saying here that her Skyfall makes it a trifecta.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Dillon Hall Diaries: Black Matt Lowers The Boom
You already know from my two previous posts labeled Dillion Hall Diaries (February 6 and April 15) that during my last three years at Notre Dame I lived in Dillon Hall, the residents of which were sometimes referred to as "Dillon Dirt Bags." Yes, we wore that appellation proudly. But my first ND roost was Cavanaugh Hall, a "freshman dorm," during the '65-'66 school year. The rector of Cavanaugh then was Father Matthew Miceli, a no-nonsense middle-aged Italian Holy Cross priest, equipped mentally and physically to handle the unenviable job of keeping over 250 college freshmen under his roof in line. I write this post in memory of him.
I came to Notre Dame from Bishop Ryan, a Catholic high school in Minot, North Dakota, where the priest who was the principal, Father Blaine Cook, ruled with an iron fist. I realized this from the very first day I met him, when he bragged to my parents that the student body had recently overwhelmingly voted to compete at the Class B (small school) level in athletics, but that he had decided unilaterally to disregard that mandate and keep the school at the Class A level. Never mind that our enrollment numbers clearly called for us being in Class B. With the stern commanding tone thus having been set, I promised myself never to get into his dog house, mostly because I was afraid of the consequences which Father Cook meted out to offenders. To an observer my planned approach might have appeared as respect for the collar, and I suppose part of my good behavior was attributable to that. But mostly I behaved out of fear. I had many friends at Ryan who were more fearless than I, and I saw them pay the price. Father Cook was not a man you should anger.
This m.o. of mine regarding priests with authority carried forward into my freshman year in Cavanaugh. Father Miceli reminded me of Father Cook, and I made sure I toed the mark. One ND alum, Class of '68, recently wrote on Notre Dame Nation that Miceli's "fearsome reputation for cruelty was legend" and that guys who lived in other dorms on the Freshman Quad would not go near Cavanaugh in order to avoid an encounter with Black Matt. Speaking of legends, there was one about our Cavanaugh rector that claimed that he would sometimes wear one regular shoe and one tennis shoe at night so that when he ran down the hall after "lights out" it sounded like he was walking. Apparently, the story goes, in this way he could sneak up outside of a dorm room if he suspected something bad was going on inside. Whether the legend was true or not, the last thing I ever wanted to do was to cross Black Matt. I had enough to worry about, including tough academics and being a thousand miles away from home. But, as the saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
On October 9, 1965, the Irish were scheduled to play Army in Shea Stadium. It would be our fourth game of the season, and our third road game. The World's Fair was also being held in New York City at that time. During the summer of '65 I had received an application in the mail to sign up for a student trip to attend the game. The trip was sponsored by the Notre Dame Social Commission, a student organization which was charged with the almost impossible task of making college life in an all-male school fun. I showed the information package to my parents, who readily agreed to help me pay for the trip. Not only would I get to attend the football game and the fair, but this would be my first airplane ride as well. The Big Weekend could not come soon enough. We would leave on Friday afternoon and return Sunday evening.
Those of us lucky enough to be on the trip had a tremendous time. Most people probably remember things about their first ride in the sky. I am no exception, so please allow me this aside. I felt lucky to get a window seat on the plane, but I soon realized that most of my fellow male passengers couldn't care less about the view out the windows. A different view was more interesting, and for that they preferred to sit on the aisle. The reason? It was pretty tough to check out the flight attendants' ("stewardesses" in those days) curves unless you were on the aisle. The other main topic of conversation was that the legal drinking age in New York City was 18, compared to 21 in The Bend. The guys could hardly wait to walk into a Manhattan watering hole to enjoy several legal drinks. I was only 17 that early October, so I did not share their eager anticipation.
The Irish had no trouble with the Black Knights Of The Hudson, cruising to a 17 to 0 victory. We also got to the World's Fair, including a viewing of the Pieta, and everything about the weekend was perfect. That is, until I got back to Cavanaugh Sunday night.
I was looking forward to recapping the weekend highlights for my roommate (a New Yorker who did not go on the trip), but before I could get the first sentence out he advised me, "Black Matt told me he wanted to see you as soon as you got in." Although the rector's room was on the same floor as mine, I barely ran into him during the first five or six weeks of the school year. I was not sure he even knew who I was. I laughingly said to my roommate, "Well, I couldn't be in too much hot water because I haven't even been here since Friday afternoon." Plus, the trip to New York had the blessing of the university, so what could possibly be wrong? Despite what I thought was this sound reasoning, I was definitely worried as I made my way to the rector. All those rumors I'd heard about Miceli suddenly came back to me. The curiosity was killing me. The walk of about thirty yards down the hall seemed more like three hundred.
If you have seen The Godfather you know the look of a disgruntled Italian Don. That was the look of Father Miceli that night. There was no "hello," no "welcome back," no "how was New York?" With a sweeping arm motion he signaled me to enter his chambers, then he asked me two questions, the answers to which he already knew. First, "Where were you?" This struck me as odd, because the list of those who had signed up for the Army game trip had been posted by the Social Commission on Cavanaugh's bulletin boards, and nothing (Nothing!) was on those boards without his knowledge. Even though I knew that he knew the answer to his own question, of course I answered. His second question was, "Did you sign out with Joe?" Joe was our RA, and again I knew that Black Matt knew the answer was "no." All I could think of, in that split second, was the phrase later made so popular by the professional tennis brat, John McEnroe: "You can't be serious!" But of course I did not say that, for the reasons stipulated above.
The '65-'66 school year was the last year the dorms at ND had mandatory room checks. We had to be present and accounted for in our rooms by 10:30 each weekday night, and by midnight on the weekend. Once the RAs took our attendance, we were free to move about -- but not leave -- the dorm. All of the outside doors were locked except for the front door, and a security guard was posted there. If a dorm resident was on campus, he was required to abide by those rules. If he was going to be off campus, he had to sign out ahead of time with an RA. In my situation, the thought of signing out with Joe never crossed my mind because I mistakenly reasoned that signing up with the Social Commission was, in effect, letting the university know where I was going to be on that Friday and Saturday night. Signing out with Joe would have been redundant, form over substance. Wrong! I was AWOL.
Black Matt lowered the boom. He "campused" me for two weeks. That punishment meant that I was immediately confined to campus through the following two weekends.
Ordinarily that penalty would not have been too painful for me. I did not have a car and I had practically no money (especially after spending a weekend in New York City), so I rarely ventured off campus anyway. However, those particular upcoming two weeks were not scheduled to be ordinary circumstances for me. My parents were planning to make the 2000 mile round trip drive from Minot to visit me for the Southern Cal game weekend, October 22-24. Black Matt's punishment thus put me in a pickle. I couldn't tell my parents to stay home. They already had tickets for the Southern Cal game, a game which had been circled on the schedule for months by college football fans across the country. USC was ND's perennial arch rival, and the memory of the 1964 game in the LA Coliseum in which a phantom holding call cost the Irish not only the game but the National Championship was fresh on the minds of the faithful. The 1965 game was going to be The Revenge Game. (In fact, the main rallying cry at all the pep rallies preceding the game was "Revenge! Revenge!") My dad, the quintessential Irish Catholic, was the football team's greatest fan. There was no way he was going to miss the game. The other big problem was having my parents wondering how their son could possibly get into trouble with his rector after being in school less than two months.
After the first of my two weeks of punishment I asked Joe -- who, by the way, was a cool guy -- if he thought I stood a chance of getting Black Matt to waive the second half of my "sentence." Joe's reply, in essence, was "not a chance." He indicated that the rector sometimes campused guys for longer periods than two weeks for similar offenses. In retrospect I should have sucked it up and asked Miceli face-to-face for a break anyway. Instead, I talked myself out of it. I might have been a chicken, but at least I was a live chicken. I will never know if Joe was right, but he knew the priest better than anyone else in Cavanaugh.
The weekend of my parents' visit did not turn out to be so bad after all, proving once again what The Marquis always said: The things you worry about the most seldom happen. The Irish got their revenge, 28 to 7, lifting their record to 4 and 1. We spent a lot of time that weekend walking around the beautiful Notre Dame campus, and I enjoyed being the tour guide. The biggest negative was that I had been looking forward to eating with my parents in real restaurants, especially Portafino's seafood restaurant in nearby Niles, Michigan, but had to settle for Huddle burgers and the grog served up in the dining hall. The weekend flew by and then it was time for the tough goodbye. As my parents pulled away I wondered if they prayed that I would not get into hot water with my rector again.
***
Father Miceli passed away a week ago today at the age of 89. There has been a lot written about him on ND Nation and in the South Bend Tribune. What people had to say about him was all good. A few highlights: He was born in San Giuseppe Jato, Italy in 1923, and moved to the US when he was six years old. He graduated from Notre Dame in 1947 (the year I was born), and was ordained five years later. He celebrated the 60th anniversary of his priesthood earlier this year. He taught theology at ND from 1954 to 1962, and after a one year stint at the University of Portland returned to teach theology at ND from 1963 to 1993. He was the Cavanaugh rector for twenty-eight years, commencing in 1963, and when he left that position in 1990 he held the Notre Dame record for most consecutive years serving as rector of the same dorm. He lived out his retirement years residing in Holy Cross House on ND's campus and pursuing his favorite hobby, making wine.
Despite the legends which originated years ago, there is no question that Black Matt will be remembered by most as a good guy. In fact, a Notre Dame alum and former resident of Cavanaugh has established a scholarship at the university in Father Miceli's memory. Apparently Black Matt had a great sense of humor which my contemporaries in Cavanaugh did not get to see. In 1994, the last year before Cavanaugh was converted into a women's dorm, Father Miceli celebrated a Mass in the Cavanaugh Chapel. At the final blessing, he urged the male congregation to go out after graduation and make as much money as possible to donate to the university, so that the funds could be used to construct an additional women's dorm and "the urinals can be brought back to Cavanaugh."
I regret that I never made a point of getting to know Father Miceli. In fact, I avoided him during the remainder of my freshman year before moving into Dillon in the autumn of '66. I felt the punishment he laid on me the previous October did not fit the crime. Isn't that what the biblical verse "an eye for an eye" is all about? They say Italians never forget when someone does them a disservice. I am 50% Italian. Right or wrong, I was not able to get past the Army Weekend Incident. In retrospect, at some point I wish I had. On many occasions when I returned to Notre Dame following graduation, I made a point of paying a quick visit to Father "Flash" Flanagan, my rector in Dillon, but never ventured to the North Quad to see Black Matt. That was, and remains, my loss. May Father Miceli rest in peace.
I came to Notre Dame from Bishop Ryan, a Catholic high school in Minot, North Dakota, where the priest who was the principal, Father Blaine Cook, ruled with an iron fist. I realized this from the very first day I met him, when he bragged to my parents that the student body had recently overwhelmingly voted to compete at the Class B (small school) level in athletics, but that he had decided unilaterally to disregard that mandate and keep the school at the Class A level. Never mind that our enrollment numbers clearly called for us being in Class B. With the stern commanding tone thus having been set, I promised myself never to get into his dog house, mostly because I was afraid of the consequences which Father Cook meted out to offenders. To an observer my planned approach might have appeared as respect for the collar, and I suppose part of my good behavior was attributable to that. But mostly I behaved out of fear. I had many friends at Ryan who were more fearless than I, and I saw them pay the price. Father Cook was not a man you should anger.
This m.o. of mine regarding priests with authority carried forward into my freshman year in Cavanaugh. Father Miceli reminded me of Father Cook, and I made sure I toed the mark. One ND alum, Class of '68, recently wrote on Notre Dame Nation that Miceli's "fearsome reputation for cruelty was legend" and that guys who lived in other dorms on the Freshman Quad would not go near Cavanaugh in order to avoid an encounter with Black Matt. Speaking of legends, there was one about our Cavanaugh rector that claimed that he would sometimes wear one regular shoe and one tennis shoe at night so that when he ran down the hall after "lights out" it sounded like he was walking. Apparently, the story goes, in this way he could sneak up outside of a dorm room if he suspected something bad was going on inside. Whether the legend was true or not, the last thing I ever wanted to do was to cross Black Matt. I had enough to worry about, including tough academics and being a thousand miles away from home. But, as the saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
On October 9, 1965, the Irish were scheduled to play Army in Shea Stadium. It would be our fourth game of the season, and our third road game. The World's Fair was also being held in New York City at that time. During the summer of '65 I had received an application in the mail to sign up for a student trip to attend the game. The trip was sponsored by the Notre Dame Social Commission, a student organization which was charged with the almost impossible task of making college life in an all-male school fun. I showed the information package to my parents, who readily agreed to help me pay for the trip. Not only would I get to attend the football game and the fair, but this would be my first airplane ride as well. The Big Weekend could not come soon enough. We would leave on Friday afternoon and return Sunday evening.
Those of us lucky enough to be on the trip had a tremendous time. Most people probably remember things about their first ride in the sky. I am no exception, so please allow me this aside. I felt lucky to get a window seat on the plane, but I soon realized that most of my fellow male passengers couldn't care less about the view out the windows. A different view was more interesting, and for that they preferred to sit on the aisle. The reason? It was pretty tough to check out the flight attendants' ("stewardesses" in those days) curves unless you were on the aisle. The other main topic of conversation was that the legal drinking age in New York City was 18, compared to 21 in The Bend. The guys could hardly wait to walk into a Manhattan watering hole to enjoy several legal drinks. I was only 17 that early October, so I did not share their eager anticipation.
The Irish had no trouble with the Black Knights Of The Hudson, cruising to a 17 to 0 victory. We also got to the World's Fair, including a viewing of the Pieta, and everything about the weekend was perfect. That is, until I got back to Cavanaugh Sunday night.
I was looking forward to recapping the weekend highlights for my roommate (a New Yorker who did not go on the trip), but before I could get the first sentence out he advised me, "Black Matt told me he wanted to see you as soon as you got in." Although the rector's room was on the same floor as mine, I barely ran into him during the first five or six weeks of the school year. I was not sure he even knew who I was. I laughingly said to my roommate, "Well, I couldn't be in too much hot water because I haven't even been here since Friday afternoon." Plus, the trip to New York had the blessing of the university, so what could possibly be wrong? Despite what I thought was this sound reasoning, I was definitely worried as I made my way to the rector. All those rumors I'd heard about Miceli suddenly came back to me. The curiosity was killing me. The walk of about thirty yards down the hall seemed more like three hundred.
If you have seen The Godfather you know the look of a disgruntled Italian Don. That was the look of Father Miceli that night. There was no "hello," no "welcome back," no "how was New York?" With a sweeping arm motion he signaled me to enter his chambers, then he asked me two questions, the answers to which he already knew. First, "Where were you?" This struck me as odd, because the list of those who had signed up for the Army game trip had been posted by the Social Commission on Cavanaugh's bulletin boards, and nothing (Nothing!) was on those boards without his knowledge. Even though I knew that he knew the answer to his own question, of course I answered. His second question was, "Did you sign out with Joe?" Joe was our RA, and again I knew that Black Matt knew the answer was "no." All I could think of, in that split second, was the phrase later made so popular by the professional tennis brat, John McEnroe: "You can't be serious!" But of course I did not say that, for the reasons stipulated above.
The '65-'66 school year was the last year the dorms at ND had mandatory room checks. We had to be present and accounted for in our rooms by 10:30 each weekday night, and by midnight on the weekend. Once the RAs took our attendance, we were free to move about -- but not leave -- the dorm. All of the outside doors were locked except for the front door, and a security guard was posted there. If a dorm resident was on campus, he was required to abide by those rules. If he was going to be off campus, he had to sign out ahead of time with an RA. In my situation, the thought of signing out with Joe never crossed my mind because I mistakenly reasoned that signing up with the Social Commission was, in effect, letting the university know where I was going to be on that Friday and Saturday night. Signing out with Joe would have been redundant, form over substance. Wrong! I was AWOL.
Black Matt lowered the boom. He "campused" me for two weeks. That punishment meant that I was immediately confined to campus through the following two weekends.
Ordinarily that penalty would not have been too painful for me. I did not have a car and I had practically no money (especially after spending a weekend in New York City), so I rarely ventured off campus anyway. However, those particular upcoming two weeks were not scheduled to be ordinary circumstances for me. My parents were planning to make the 2000 mile round trip drive from Minot to visit me for the Southern Cal game weekend, October 22-24. Black Matt's punishment thus put me in a pickle. I couldn't tell my parents to stay home. They already had tickets for the Southern Cal game, a game which had been circled on the schedule for months by college football fans across the country. USC was ND's perennial arch rival, and the memory of the 1964 game in the LA Coliseum in which a phantom holding call cost the Irish not only the game but the National Championship was fresh on the minds of the faithful. The 1965 game was going to be The Revenge Game. (In fact, the main rallying cry at all the pep rallies preceding the game was "Revenge! Revenge!") My dad, the quintessential Irish Catholic, was the football team's greatest fan. There was no way he was going to miss the game. The other big problem was having my parents wondering how their son could possibly get into trouble with his rector after being in school less than two months.
After the first of my two weeks of punishment I asked Joe -- who, by the way, was a cool guy -- if he thought I stood a chance of getting Black Matt to waive the second half of my "sentence." Joe's reply, in essence, was "not a chance." He indicated that the rector sometimes campused guys for longer periods than two weeks for similar offenses. In retrospect I should have sucked it up and asked Miceli face-to-face for a break anyway. Instead, I talked myself out of it. I might have been a chicken, but at least I was a live chicken. I will never know if Joe was right, but he knew the priest better than anyone else in Cavanaugh.
The weekend of my parents' visit did not turn out to be so bad after all, proving once again what The Marquis always said: The things you worry about the most seldom happen. The Irish got their revenge, 28 to 7, lifting their record to 4 and 1. We spent a lot of time that weekend walking around the beautiful Notre Dame campus, and I enjoyed being the tour guide. The biggest negative was that I had been looking forward to eating with my parents in real restaurants, especially Portafino's seafood restaurant in nearby Niles, Michigan, but had to settle for Huddle burgers and the grog served up in the dining hall. The weekend flew by and then it was time for the tough goodbye. As my parents pulled away I wondered if they prayed that I would not get into hot water with my rector again.
***
Father Miceli passed away a week ago today at the age of 89. There has been a lot written about him on ND Nation and in the South Bend Tribune. What people had to say about him was all good. A few highlights: He was born in San Giuseppe Jato, Italy in 1923, and moved to the US when he was six years old. He graduated from Notre Dame in 1947 (the year I was born), and was ordained five years later. He celebrated the 60th anniversary of his priesthood earlier this year. He taught theology at ND from 1954 to 1962, and after a one year stint at the University of Portland returned to teach theology at ND from 1963 to 1993. He was the Cavanaugh rector for twenty-eight years, commencing in 1963, and when he left that position in 1990 he held the Notre Dame record for most consecutive years serving as rector of the same dorm. He lived out his retirement years residing in Holy Cross House on ND's campus and pursuing his favorite hobby, making wine.
Despite the legends which originated years ago, there is no question that Black Matt will be remembered by most as a good guy. In fact, a Notre Dame alum and former resident of Cavanaugh has established a scholarship at the university in Father Miceli's memory. Apparently Black Matt had a great sense of humor which my contemporaries in Cavanaugh did not get to see. In 1994, the last year before Cavanaugh was converted into a women's dorm, Father Miceli celebrated a Mass in the Cavanaugh Chapel. At the final blessing, he urged the male congregation to go out after graduation and make as much money as possible to donate to the university, so that the funds could be used to construct an additional women's dorm and "the urinals can be brought back to Cavanaugh."
I regret that I never made a point of getting to know Father Miceli. In fact, I avoided him during the remainder of my freshman year before moving into Dillon in the autumn of '66. I felt the punishment he laid on me the previous October did not fit the crime. Isn't that what the biblical verse "an eye for an eye" is all about? They say Italians never forget when someone does them a disservice. I am 50% Italian. Right or wrong, I was not able to get past the Army Weekend Incident. In retrospect, at some point I wish I had. On many occasions when I returned to Notre Dame following graduation, I made a point of paying a quick visit to Father "Flash" Flanagan, my rector in Dillon, but never ventured to the North Quad to see Black Matt. That was, and remains, my loss. May Father Miceli rest in peace.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Movie Review: "Chasing Ice"
"Chasing Ice": B+. If you thought global warming was a myth propagated by environmentalists or a figment of the collective imagination of nature-loving tree huggers, you will probably be convinced otherwise after watching this rather short (71 minutes between opening and closing credits) documentary. The film shows the mission of scientist James Balog and his team to capture visual evidence of the relatively rapidly changing landscape of several huge glaciers in the northern hemisphere. To achieve his objective, Balog set up dozens of cameras in Iceland, Greenland, Alaska, the Canadian Rockies and Glacier National Park in Montana. (The closing credits indicate he has since added Mount Everest to the list.) The cameras were designed to snap a photo of the same target every thirty minutes during daylight hours for months at a time. After some early set backs, the results achieved by Balog's enterprise, under the banner Extreme Ice Survey, are triumphant. What you will see on screen is some of the most spectacular footage of natural phenomena you will ever witness.
Each camera had to be mounted and secured in a location where a clear shot of the targeted glacier was available. The apparatus had to be able to withstand hurricane force winds and temperatures well under forty degrees below zero. To reach the best vantage points, Balog and his small team of fellow scientists risked their lives traipsing over unsteady ice platforms, scaling treacherous crevices, rock climbing and hiking across the frozen tundra. One of their biggest challenges, especially in the early stages of their endeavor, was overcoming the utter disappointment and frustration of dealing with faulty component parts. Any malfunction of even the tiniest component in the guts of a custom made camera resulted in failure. And in Balog's business, any failure was almost catastrophic, because once a glacier melted there was no future opportunity to capture the moment on camera. The glacier was not going to reappear.
The movie has a good mixture of the three main elements of the story: adventure; scientific explanations, complete with easy-to-understand charts and photos, of what we are witnessing; and, a look into the personal life of Balog, who amazingly was doing all of this strenuous work with a chronically "bum" knee. At several points throughout the film, before-and-after pictures of the same landscape are shown on a split screen. Sometimes images of familiar things, such as the Empire State Building or the island of Manhattan, are superimposed to give the viewer a sense of scale. The glaciers are undoubtedly shrinking, and in some cases literally disappearing. One of the many effects of these phenomena is the rising of the water level in our oceans. The masses of melted ice have to go somewhere. When you think of all of the coastal cities throughout the world, their populations are at risk if the warming trend doesn't reverse. One of the (perhaps) less-than-obvious possibilities is that hurricanes will have even more devastating effects on coastal cities than in the past, because there is a lot more water which the winds will blow up from the ocean onto the land.
I was fascinated by the camera work of cinematographer Jeff Orlowski, who filmed Balog and his two on-site teammates as they worked to set up and maintain the mounted cameras. It was evident that Balog and his teammates were flirting with danger, but Orlowski must have been risking his life too. One memorable sequence shows Balog and his cohorts clinging to safety ropes as they made their way down a crevice so deep that the bottom could not be seen. Yet, the cinematographer was several feet below those men! Are you kidding me?
Other than citing a noticeable spike in carbon dioxide emissions, the film does not go into detail about what is causing the sad deterioration of the world's glaciers. What is there about the makeup of carbon dioxide that has this deleterious effect? Since I am not a scientist I would have appreciated a minute of two of explanation, although I am willing to take it on faith that carbon dioxide is anathema to ice. I found it interesting that the filmmaker does not point the finger at any specific villain, either by identifying an industry or a country. Given the short duration of the film (as noted above), there certainly was time to do so. Yet, time is found to show the global warming infidels, such as Sean Hannity, mocking those who are sounding the warning bell.
Chasing Ice is a story that took years in the making, an undertaking that could only have been accomplished with a treasure chest of funding and sponsorship. As a viewer, I would have been curious to know the costs associated with Balog's work. The cost of the cameras alone must have reached the high six figures, if not more. This information is not furnished. I chuckled during the closing credits when the screen proclaimed that the scientists wished to thank their sponsors, without whom their work would not have been possible. I estimate that a list of about forty to fifty sponsors appeared below that statement, but that information stayed on the screen for, maybe, just five seconds. If I ever rewatch the movie on DVD, I guess I will have to freeze frame those closing credits to determine the parties who dug deep to fund the expeditions.
Each camera had to be mounted and secured in a location where a clear shot of the targeted glacier was available. The apparatus had to be able to withstand hurricane force winds and temperatures well under forty degrees below zero. To reach the best vantage points, Balog and his small team of fellow scientists risked their lives traipsing over unsteady ice platforms, scaling treacherous crevices, rock climbing and hiking across the frozen tundra. One of their biggest challenges, especially in the early stages of their endeavor, was overcoming the utter disappointment and frustration of dealing with faulty component parts. Any malfunction of even the tiniest component in the guts of a custom made camera resulted in failure. And in Balog's business, any failure was almost catastrophic, because once a glacier melted there was no future opportunity to capture the moment on camera. The glacier was not going to reappear.
The movie has a good mixture of the three main elements of the story: adventure; scientific explanations, complete with easy-to-understand charts and photos, of what we are witnessing; and, a look into the personal life of Balog, who amazingly was doing all of this strenuous work with a chronically "bum" knee. At several points throughout the film, before-and-after pictures of the same landscape are shown on a split screen. Sometimes images of familiar things, such as the Empire State Building or the island of Manhattan, are superimposed to give the viewer a sense of scale. The glaciers are undoubtedly shrinking, and in some cases literally disappearing. One of the many effects of these phenomena is the rising of the water level in our oceans. The masses of melted ice have to go somewhere. When you think of all of the coastal cities throughout the world, their populations are at risk if the warming trend doesn't reverse. One of the (perhaps) less-than-obvious possibilities is that hurricanes will have even more devastating effects on coastal cities than in the past, because there is a lot more water which the winds will blow up from the ocean onto the land.
I was fascinated by the camera work of cinematographer Jeff Orlowski, who filmed Balog and his two on-site teammates as they worked to set up and maintain the mounted cameras. It was evident that Balog and his teammates were flirting with danger, but Orlowski must have been risking his life too. One memorable sequence shows Balog and his cohorts clinging to safety ropes as they made their way down a crevice so deep that the bottom could not be seen. Yet, the cinematographer was several feet below those men! Are you kidding me?
Other than citing a noticeable spike in carbon dioxide emissions, the film does not go into detail about what is causing the sad deterioration of the world's glaciers. What is there about the makeup of carbon dioxide that has this deleterious effect? Since I am not a scientist I would have appreciated a minute of two of explanation, although I am willing to take it on faith that carbon dioxide is anathema to ice. I found it interesting that the filmmaker does not point the finger at any specific villain, either by identifying an industry or a country. Given the short duration of the film (as noted above), there certainly was time to do so. Yet, time is found to show the global warming infidels, such as Sean Hannity, mocking those who are sounding the warning bell.
Chasing Ice is a story that took years in the making, an undertaking that could only have been accomplished with a treasure chest of funding and sponsorship. As a viewer, I would have been curious to know the costs associated with Balog's work. The cost of the cameras alone must have reached the high six figures, if not more. This information is not furnished. I chuckled during the closing credits when the screen proclaimed that the scientists wished to thank their sponsors, without whom their work would not have been possible. I estimate that a list of about forty to fifty sponsors appeared below that statement, but that information stayed on the screen for, maybe, just five seconds. If I ever rewatch the movie on DVD, I guess I will have to freeze frame those closing credits to determine the parties who dug deep to fund the expeditions.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Movie Review: "Lincoln"
"Lincoln": C+. As I was viewing Steven Spielberg's latest epic, Lincoln, in the comfort of my stadium-style seat at the West End theater, I couldn't decide which adjective better described the film, "ponderous" or "tedious." I have settled on labeling it "ponderous tedium." Yes, I know this movie has been hailed as a masterpiece and as an unparalleled accomplishment, but I am not drinking that kool-aid. Sometimes when people go to a comedy club they want to laugh at every joke, maybe as a way of justifying the price they paid for the admission ticket, or perhaps because they fear by not laughing with the crowd they will be deemed unhip. Is that a valid explanation for the almost unanimous praise heaped upon Lincoln? Is it uncool not to like Spielberg's latest offering? I am willing to chance it.
Lincoln focuses on the last four months of President Abraham Lincoln's life. During that time he faced two enormous challenges, viz., bringing an end to the Civil War, and overseeing the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment in the US House of Representatives. The Thirteenth Amendment, which permanently abolished slavery, went beyond the two year old Emancipation Proclamation, which was deemed a temporary "war powers" edict with limited application. Although he wanted desperately to accomplish both missions, the timing of those two events as they related to each other was problematic. The President and his advisors presumed that the Confederacy would not surrender unless it was assured that its member states would be readmitted to the United States without thenceforth being treated as inferior political entities. In other words, the leaders of the Confereracy would demand that their citizens have representation in Washington under the same rules and regulations as their northern counterparts. If surrender and readmission happened prior to passage of the Thirteenth Amendment, the obvious danger was that the amendment might never be passed by the House due to the southerners' objections. On the other hand, if the Union delayed the final siege required to end the war, that meant more bloodshed for both sides, as hundreds of soldiers were dying every day on the battlefields. Lincoln faced a lose-lose situation. In fact, even if it turned out that the Thirteenth Amendment was already passed by Congress before the end of the war, the amendment could be still rescinded once the former confederate states were able to vote.
The movie fails to show us why Lincoln is considered among the best presidents in history. Instead, it concentrates on Lincoln the politician and deal maker. He needs bipartisan support to get the amendment passed, and this means keeping his fellow Republicans in the fold and convincing roughly a half dozen Democrats to buck their party. Lincoln is portrayed as a master of political strategy. There is constant head counting to determine how many more votes are required in the House. Lincoln would dispatch his representatives to use hard sell tactics, if necessary, to convince politicians on the fence, and even those who'd already announced their opposition to the amendment, to vote "Aye." Lincoln and his henchmen were not above playing dirty pool, promising jobs to some men who could be bribed, and even going so far as to change official election results. Spielberg takes us along every step of the way. There is meeting after meeting in smoke filled rooms, followed by debates on the House floor. Almost every meeting and debate has a character or two delivering a grandiose speech with much pomp and gesticulation. This might make for engaging theater, but that form of storytelling does not lend itself well to cinema. Two, or at the most three, of those scenes would have sufficed for me, but this film is comprised of a series of them. When you deliver the same message time after time, the effectiveness of any one of them becomes diluted, especially for a movie viewer who is subjected to the repetitiveness over the course of a hundred and forty minutes.
There is an old saying that you can't tell the players without a scorecard. Lincoln illustrates that axiom. All the major players are middle age white guys wearing vested suits. Are they Republicans? Democrats? (Members of the two parties do not sit on opposite sides of the proverbial aisle for easy identification.) Reporters? Cabinet members? Lower ranking gophers? For example, W.N. Bilbo, the character played by James Spader, randomly shows his face from time to time with his ever-present cigar. He speaks a line here and there but does not really add anything to the plot development. Even as I write this, I'm not sure who Bilbo is supposed to be or why he is in the film. (I'm guessing a hack reporter.) Maybe Spielberg is a big Boston Legal fan and wanted to give Spader some work. One thing I found puzzling is that even though there are dozens of politicians and government workers in the cast of characters, Vice President Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln to the presidency following his assassination, was left out of the story. I guess he was attending the funeral of a foreign dignitary, a task often relegated to the VP even today.
No explanation is given why some representatives from the Union States are opposed to the amendment - - we already know why the slave-owning southerners are against it - - yet when the roll is called in the House many of them vote "Nay." Another flaw is the dreaded non-sequitur which rears its ugly head at key moments. For example, when there is a question on the House floor as to whether the President's representatives are currently meeting with a Confederate delegation in Richmond, Virginia, there is a motion to postpone the vote on the amendment. Maybe I was dreaming, but I swear that motion passed. Yet, a few minutes later the crucial vote proceeds. A congressman from Kentucky tells everyone that he is going to vote against the amendment, but for reasons unexplained he changes his mind when the roll is called. After Alexander Stephens, the Vice President of the Confederacy, secretly meets with President Lincoln and Secretary of State William Seward and is informed that his demands are not going to be met, the southern army surrenders anyway. Why show the meeting if the logical expected result from it does not materialize? Two plus two does not always equal four here.
For all its faults, the performance by Daniel Day-Lewis is special. I can't remember anyone else nailing Honest Abe so well. This is the first movie Day-Lewis has made in three years, and the first one anyone has actually heard of since 2007. According to the Hollywood press, he originally turned down the beseeching Spielberg, but Leonardo DiCaprio persuaded him to change his mind. Had he not, I would be forced to grade Lincoln a C.
Lincoln focuses on the last four months of President Abraham Lincoln's life. During that time he faced two enormous challenges, viz., bringing an end to the Civil War, and overseeing the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment in the US House of Representatives. The Thirteenth Amendment, which permanently abolished slavery, went beyond the two year old Emancipation Proclamation, which was deemed a temporary "war powers" edict with limited application. Although he wanted desperately to accomplish both missions, the timing of those two events as they related to each other was problematic. The President and his advisors presumed that the Confederacy would not surrender unless it was assured that its member states would be readmitted to the United States without thenceforth being treated as inferior political entities. In other words, the leaders of the Confereracy would demand that their citizens have representation in Washington under the same rules and regulations as their northern counterparts. If surrender and readmission happened prior to passage of the Thirteenth Amendment, the obvious danger was that the amendment might never be passed by the House due to the southerners' objections. On the other hand, if the Union delayed the final siege required to end the war, that meant more bloodshed for both sides, as hundreds of soldiers were dying every day on the battlefields. Lincoln faced a lose-lose situation. In fact, even if it turned out that the Thirteenth Amendment was already passed by Congress before the end of the war, the amendment could be still rescinded once the former confederate states were able to vote.
The movie fails to show us why Lincoln is considered among the best presidents in history. Instead, it concentrates on Lincoln the politician and deal maker. He needs bipartisan support to get the amendment passed, and this means keeping his fellow Republicans in the fold and convincing roughly a half dozen Democrats to buck their party. Lincoln is portrayed as a master of political strategy. There is constant head counting to determine how many more votes are required in the House. Lincoln would dispatch his representatives to use hard sell tactics, if necessary, to convince politicians on the fence, and even those who'd already announced their opposition to the amendment, to vote "Aye." Lincoln and his henchmen were not above playing dirty pool, promising jobs to some men who could be bribed, and even going so far as to change official election results. Spielberg takes us along every step of the way. There is meeting after meeting in smoke filled rooms, followed by debates on the House floor. Almost every meeting and debate has a character or two delivering a grandiose speech with much pomp and gesticulation. This might make for engaging theater, but that form of storytelling does not lend itself well to cinema. Two, or at the most three, of those scenes would have sufficed for me, but this film is comprised of a series of them. When you deliver the same message time after time, the effectiveness of any one of them becomes diluted, especially for a movie viewer who is subjected to the repetitiveness over the course of a hundred and forty minutes.
There is an old saying that you can't tell the players without a scorecard. Lincoln illustrates that axiom. All the major players are middle age white guys wearing vested suits. Are they Republicans? Democrats? (Members of the two parties do not sit on opposite sides of the proverbial aisle for easy identification.) Reporters? Cabinet members? Lower ranking gophers? For example, W.N. Bilbo, the character played by James Spader, randomly shows his face from time to time with his ever-present cigar. He speaks a line here and there but does not really add anything to the plot development. Even as I write this, I'm not sure who Bilbo is supposed to be or why he is in the film. (I'm guessing a hack reporter.) Maybe Spielberg is a big Boston Legal fan and wanted to give Spader some work. One thing I found puzzling is that even though there are dozens of politicians and government workers in the cast of characters, Vice President Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln to the presidency following his assassination, was left out of the story. I guess he was attending the funeral of a foreign dignitary, a task often relegated to the VP even today.
No explanation is given why some representatives from the Union States are opposed to the amendment - - we already know why the slave-owning southerners are against it - - yet when the roll is called in the House many of them vote "Nay." Another flaw is the dreaded non-sequitur which rears its ugly head at key moments. For example, when there is a question on the House floor as to whether the President's representatives are currently meeting with a Confederate delegation in Richmond, Virginia, there is a motion to postpone the vote on the amendment. Maybe I was dreaming, but I swear that motion passed. Yet, a few minutes later the crucial vote proceeds. A congressman from Kentucky tells everyone that he is going to vote against the amendment, but for reasons unexplained he changes his mind when the roll is called. After Alexander Stephens, the Vice President of the Confederacy, secretly meets with President Lincoln and Secretary of State William Seward and is informed that his demands are not going to be met, the southern army surrenders anyway. Why show the meeting if the logical expected result from it does not materialize? Two plus two does not always equal four here.
For all its faults, the performance by Daniel Day-Lewis is special. I can't remember anyone else nailing Honest Abe so well. This is the first movie Day-Lewis has made in three years, and the first one anyone has actually heard of since 2007. According to the Hollywood press, he originally turned down the beseeching Spielberg, but Leonardo DiCaprio persuaded him to change his mind. Had he not, I would be forced to grade Lincoln a C.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Movie Review: "Silver Linings Playbook"
"Silver Linings Playbook": B+. There is an old saying, "Be careful what you wish for." When Pat Solitano (Bradley Cooper) is done serving his plea-bargained eight month tour in a Baltimore mental institution, all he can think about is getting back together with his estranged wife Nikki, who has a restraining order against him. The reason Pat is in trouble stems from his violent attack on Nikki's lover, an older teaching colleague of Pat's. Bradley Cooper is at his best playing a role which requires him to be flirting with disaster and ready to burst upon the slightest provocation. He is a man wired tighter than a drum, living on the edge. Yet, he has his "normal" moments, such as reconnecting with his parents (Robert Di Nero and Jacki Weaver) and long-time friend Ronnie who welcomes him back home to Philadelphia.
In most movies I've seen about a mentally disturbed person trying to regain his footing in society, there is a rock solid character with her feet on the ground who coaches the disturbed person back to normalcy, or at least to the point where a comeback is possible. The unique aspect of Silver Linings Playbook ("SLP") is that the character who is in the best position to make the most inroads with Pat is Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), and she has problems of her own. Tiffany, a new widow, is the younger sister of Ronnie's wife, Veronica, who in turn is a good friend of Nikki. Pat meets Tiffany when the two of them are separately invited to Ronnie and Veronica's house for dinner. Things don't go particularly well between Pat and Tiffany, and the evening ends when Pat declines Tiffany's invitation to get under the sheets. However, they keep running into each other, particularly while jogging in the neighborhood, and before long they realize that each is uniquely qualified to do a huge favor for the other. Tiffany can aid Pat in delivering his letters to Nikki, a violation of the restraining order, and Pat can partner up with Tiffany for a ballroom dance contest she deeply desires to enter. Yes, that latter subplot is pretty far-fetched, but because this turns out to be a comedy - - a fact I did not pick up on right away - - we are willing to go with it.
Speaking of comedy, Robert DiNero as Pat's dad is a natural. He is an obsessed fan of the Philadelphia Eagles, and his main source of income is functioning as a bookie. We learn that he is banned from attending Eagles games because, even though he is sixty-five years old, he has gotten into too many fights in the stands. Therefore, he has to settle for dressing in an Eagles jersey to watch the games at home on TV. He has a huge video tape library of Eagles games. He is not sure how to deal with his mentally insecure son, but his main concern is that his son's new relationship with Tiffany, such as it is, is spoiling the "juju" for his beloved Eagles.
We are not too sure Pat shouldn't be back in the psychiatric ward. He goes nuts whenever he hears My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder, because it was his and Nikki's wedding song. (Wouldn't you know that song is playing in the waiting room of his shrink's office during his first visit back from the institution?) He wakes up his parents in the middle of the night when he can't find his wedding video. In an effort to impress Nikki, he undertakes a mission to read every book which Nikki has in her teaching syllabus, then literally throws one of those books, Hemingway's A Farewell To Arms,through his bedroom window pane when it upsets him. Whenever he gets rowdy, such as at an Eagles pre-game tailgate party or during a loud argument with his parents, a cop shows up threatening to "take him back to Baltimore."
Tiffany does not coddle Pat. She goes toe to toe with him during every one of their frequent verbal spats. This is a much different Jennifer Lawrence than her Katniss Everdeen character from The Hunger Games. She is a foul-mouthed, street wise and hardened woman who doesn't back down from confrontations. In fact, she instigates some of them herself. Only twenty-two years of age, Lawrence could some day have a resume as accomplished as Meryl Streep. She is that good an actress. By the way, for the sake of comparison, Bradley Cooper is thirty-seven. The age difference between the two leads in SLP does not seem that apparent, a credit to both actors.
There are a lot of good scenes in SLP, but the sum of the parts exceeds the whole. Editing a few extraneous moments and re-writing the last several minutes would have resulted in a tighter script and a better product. Still, when you lay your money down it's for the purpose of being entertained. In that regard, there is no quibble. I will be very interested to find out early next year what award nominations this film generates.
In most movies I've seen about a mentally disturbed person trying to regain his footing in society, there is a rock solid character with her feet on the ground who coaches the disturbed person back to normalcy, or at least to the point where a comeback is possible. The unique aspect of Silver Linings Playbook ("SLP") is that the character who is in the best position to make the most inroads with Pat is Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), and she has problems of her own. Tiffany, a new widow, is the younger sister of Ronnie's wife, Veronica, who in turn is a good friend of Nikki. Pat meets Tiffany when the two of them are separately invited to Ronnie and Veronica's house for dinner. Things don't go particularly well between Pat and Tiffany, and the evening ends when Pat declines Tiffany's invitation to get under the sheets. However, they keep running into each other, particularly while jogging in the neighborhood, and before long they realize that each is uniquely qualified to do a huge favor for the other. Tiffany can aid Pat in delivering his letters to Nikki, a violation of the restraining order, and Pat can partner up with Tiffany for a ballroom dance contest she deeply desires to enter. Yes, that latter subplot is pretty far-fetched, but because this turns out to be a comedy - - a fact I did not pick up on right away - - we are willing to go with it.
Speaking of comedy, Robert DiNero as Pat's dad is a natural. He is an obsessed fan of the Philadelphia Eagles, and his main source of income is functioning as a bookie. We learn that he is banned from attending Eagles games because, even though he is sixty-five years old, he has gotten into too many fights in the stands. Therefore, he has to settle for dressing in an Eagles jersey to watch the games at home on TV. He has a huge video tape library of Eagles games. He is not sure how to deal with his mentally insecure son, but his main concern is that his son's new relationship with Tiffany, such as it is, is spoiling the "juju" for his beloved Eagles.
We are not too sure Pat shouldn't be back in the psychiatric ward. He goes nuts whenever he hears My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder, because it was his and Nikki's wedding song. (Wouldn't you know that song is playing in the waiting room of his shrink's office during his first visit back from the institution?) He wakes up his parents in the middle of the night when he can't find his wedding video. In an effort to impress Nikki, he undertakes a mission to read every book which Nikki has in her teaching syllabus, then literally throws one of those books, Hemingway's A Farewell To Arms,through his bedroom window pane when it upsets him. Whenever he gets rowdy, such as at an Eagles pre-game tailgate party or during a loud argument with his parents, a cop shows up threatening to "take him back to Baltimore."
Tiffany does not coddle Pat. She goes toe to toe with him during every one of their frequent verbal spats. This is a much different Jennifer Lawrence than her Katniss Everdeen character from The Hunger Games. She is a foul-mouthed, street wise and hardened woman who doesn't back down from confrontations. In fact, she instigates some of them herself. Only twenty-two years of age, Lawrence could some day have a resume as accomplished as Meryl Streep. She is that good an actress. By the way, for the sake of comparison, Bradley Cooper is thirty-seven. The age difference between the two leads in SLP does not seem that apparent, a credit to both actors.
There are a lot of good scenes in SLP, but the sum of the parts exceeds the whole. Editing a few extraneous moments and re-writing the last several minutes would have resulted in a tighter script and a better product. Still, when you lay your money down it's for the purpose of being entertained. In that regard, there is no quibble. I will be very interested to find out early next year what award nominations this film generates.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Butter
In my introductory post of December 6, 2011 (Following David Brinkley's Lead) I indirectly posed the question if it was possible for one to plagiarize himself. In the context of this blog, I was referring to the possibility of republishing certain posts I have made on the website ND Nation or e-mails I've written to family and friends. To date, I have not yet availed myself of that convenience, but in light of the fact that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, the one day of the year when the subject of food is brought to the fore, the time has come for self-plagiarization and for me to pull an old one out of the desk drawer.
Assuming that we all hope to display at least some modicum of etiquette at the biggest dinner of the year, I am passing on to you, my faithful blog readers, an e-mail that I sent to my three kids on March 29, 2004. That was exactly thirteen days before Easter Sunday, another big annual food fest. I called my memo The Martha Stewart Memo # 2: Butter. In those days, whenever I wrote about etiquette, I called it a Martha Stewart Memo in honor of the perfectionist ex-con celebrity herself. (2004 was the year of her incarceration for securities fraud.) In all honesty, I'm not sure how many Martha Stewart Memos I wrote, and I can't remember what Memo # 1 addressed. If I ever find it and deem it worthy, I will post it here.
What follows, then, is my e-mail from eight-plus years ago, with only a few very minor revisions. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.
***
It always amazes me how many people do not know how to use butter. As the Martha surrogate, and to save you from embarrassing yourselves, I am providing to you the following guidelines:
1. Never reach for the butter, unless you are the closest person at the table to the butter. Ask the closest person to pass it.
2. If someone else has asked that the butter be passed to her, but the butter has to get by you first, ask the requesting person if she minds if you help yourself first before passing it on to the requester. Don't shortstop it without permission. This rule generally applies to each thing (not just butter) which is passed at the table.
3. Check around your place at the table to see if your hostess has provided you with a butter knife. If yes, use it.
4. If there is room at your place at the table, put the butter serving plate down on the table before you slice into the butter. Unless you are an axe murderer (or you are auditioning for the Anthony Perkins role in a remake of Psycho), do not hold the butter serving plate with one hand while you slice with the other hand.
5. You only get one slice of butter, so make it a good one. It is better to err on the side of taking a little too much than it is to take more than one slice. Pity the person who has to use the butter after you've mangled the stick like Paul Bunyan going after a tree.
6. Slice straight down on the butter stick. Only a hillbilly would skim the knife over the top of the butter stick. If you insist on doing so and you are my relative, please do me the favor of forbearing until you legally change your last name.
7. Put your one slice of butter on the individual butter plate (see # 8). Do not apply it directly from the butter serving plate to your bread, or whatever else it is that you are buttering. (As used in this memo, "bread" refers to rolls, buns, croissants and muffins too.)
8. Check around your place at the table to see if the hostess has provided you with an individual butter plate. If yes, use it. If not, use your dinner plate. Do not put the bread on the table.
9. Before you apply the butter to your bread, break the bread in half with your freshly washed hands. Do not use a knife to break the bread. Do not apply the butter to unbroken bread. Exception: If the bread being passed around consists of a loaf, and a knife is supplied with the loaf, you may use the knife to cut yourself a slice.
10. When you are buttering your bread, the bread should be resting on your individual butter plate. You should not be holding the bread in the air. You are not a priest, and this is not the consecration.
11. Put enough butter on your bread to be able to taste the butter, but remember: Buttering a slice of bread is not like painting a wall. You don't have to cover every square millimeter of surface area.
12. If you have an individual butter plate (see # 8), return the butter knife to that plate, not to your dinner plate.
13. After you take each bite of bread, put the uneaten remainder back on your individual butter plate. Don't hold onto the bread as if you were worried someone might steal it. Caveat: If you are seated next to a certain relative who has been know to accuse others of stealing (and therefore may be tempted to steal your bread as a reprisal), you would be well advised to keep an eye out for your uneaten remainder.
14. Keep in mind that no matter what the butter apologists try to tell you, generally speaking butter is not all that good for your body, even if it is the renowned Hope Butter. (Bread probably isn't either.) Many dieticians suggest that you try getting used to eating bread (and other types of food) without butter. Try it that way for several meals, and if you can get used to it you will be so much better off. Enjoying bread and other food without butter is an acquired taste (like coffee or vegetables). Give it a shot and then, if you must, try using a fraction of the butter you were using before.
15. This last rule is the most important of them all, and accordingly I have named it after my father, The Marquis. The Donald J. Periolat Rule: When you are passing a stick of butter to someone, try not to jam the end of the butter stick into the recipient's extended thumb. It may be funny, but it's still uncouth and very bad form.
Assuming that we all hope to display at least some modicum of etiquette at the biggest dinner of the year, I am passing on to you, my faithful blog readers, an e-mail that I sent to my three kids on March 29, 2004. That was exactly thirteen days before Easter Sunday, another big annual food fest. I called my memo The Martha Stewart Memo # 2: Butter. In those days, whenever I wrote about etiquette, I called it a Martha Stewart Memo in honor of the perfectionist ex-con celebrity herself. (2004 was the year of her incarceration for securities fraud.) In all honesty, I'm not sure how many Martha Stewart Memos I wrote, and I can't remember what Memo # 1 addressed. If I ever find it and deem it worthy, I will post it here.
What follows, then, is my e-mail from eight-plus years ago, with only a few very minor revisions. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.
***
It always amazes me how many people do not know how to use butter. As the Martha surrogate, and to save you from embarrassing yourselves, I am providing to you the following guidelines:
1. Never reach for the butter, unless you are the closest person at the table to the butter. Ask the closest person to pass it.
2. If someone else has asked that the butter be passed to her, but the butter has to get by you first, ask the requesting person if she minds if you help yourself first before passing it on to the requester. Don't shortstop it without permission. This rule generally applies to each thing (not just butter) which is passed at the table.
3. Check around your place at the table to see if your hostess has provided you with a butter knife. If yes, use it.
4. If there is room at your place at the table, put the butter serving plate down on the table before you slice into the butter. Unless you are an axe murderer (or you are auditioning for the Anthony Perkins role in a remake of Psycho), do not hold the butter serving plate with one hand while you slice with the other hand.
5. You only get one slice of butter, so make it a good one. It is better to err on the side of taking a little too much than it is to take more than one slice. Pity the person who has to use the butter after you've mangled the stick like Paul Bunyan going after a tree.
6. Slice straight down on the butter stick. Only a hillbilly would skim the knife over the top of the butter stick. If you insist on doing so and you are my relative, please do me the favor of forbearing until you legally change your last name.
7. Put your one slice of butter on the individual butter plate (see # 8). Do not apply it directly from the butter serving plate to your bread, or whatever else it is that you are buttering. (As used in this memo, "bread" refers to rolls, buns, croissants and muffins too.)
8. Check around your place at the table to see if the hostess has provided you with an individual butter plate. If yes, use it. If not, use your dinner plate. Do not put the bread on the table.
9. Before you apply the butter to your bread, break the bread in half with your freshly washed hands. Do not use a knife to break the bread. Do not apply the butter to unbroken bread. Exception: If the bread being passed around consists of a loaf, and a knife is supplied with the loaf, you may use the knife to cut yourself a slice.
10. When you are buttering your bread, the bread should be resting on your individual butter plate. You should not be holding the bread in the air. You are not a priest, and this is not the consecration.
11. Put enough butter on your bread to be able to taste the butter, but remember: Buttering a slice of bread is not like painting a wall. You don't have to cover every square millimeter of surface area.
12. If you have an individual butter plate (see # 8), return the butter knife to that plate, not to your dinner plate.
13. After you take each bite of bread, put the uneaten remainder back on your individual butter plate. Don't hold onto the bread as if you were worried someone might steal it. Caveat: If you are seated next to a certain relative who has been know to accuse others of stealing (and therefore may be tempted to steal your bread as a reprisal), you would be well advised to keep an eye out for your uneaten remainder.
14. Keep in mind that no matter what the butter apologists try to tell you, generally speaking butter is not all that good for your body, even if it is the renowned Hope Butter. (Bread probably isn't either.) Many dieticians suggest that you try getting used to eating bread (and other types of food) without butter. Try it that way for several meals, and if you can get used to it you will be so much better off. Enjoying bread and other food without butter is an acquired taste (like coffee or vegetables). Give it a shot and then, if you must, try using a fraction of the butter you were using before.
15. This last rule is the most important of them all, and accordingly I have named it after my father, The Marquis. The Donald J. Periolat Rule: When you are passing a stick of butter to someone, try not to jam the end of the butter stick into the recipient's extended thumb. It may be funny, but it's still uncouth and very bad form.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Movie Review: "Searching For Sugar Man"
"Searching For Sugar Man": A-. This documentary filmed by Swedish director Malik Bendjelloul tells the story of an American singer-songwriter named Sixto Rodriguez, who in the very early 1970's released two well-received albums and then figuratively fell off the face of the earth. In the seventies, before the days of MTV, file sharing, Pandora and satellite radio, music artists needed more than singing or instrumental talent in order to make a career in the business. They needed a label to distribute and, more importantly, promote their records. They also needed radio play, an agent with connections, perhaps a financially underwritten concert tour, free publicity, and of course a healthy dose of luck. Rodriguez had none of these things going for him. Sadly, his label, Sussex Records, dropped him after the second album, at which point he continued to make his way in the world doing hard manual labor. Although he kept playing his guitar, he let go of his dream.
There is a saying that life can be cruel, and the application of that adage is quickly unveiled in this movie. Unbeknownst to Rodriguez, his songs became extremely popular in the country of South Africa at a time when the anti-Apartheid movement was shifting into a higher gear. It is estimated that over a half million copies of his records were sold - - some of them as bootlegs - - in that country alone. More than two decades later, Cape Town record store owner Stephen Segerman took it upon himself to investigate who this invisible star was. After a little digging he discovered that there were reports of Rodriguez' death, resulting from a self-inflicted shot to the head during a concert in the States. Yet, Segerman is unable to obtain tangible proof or even any concrete evidence that such a tragedy actually occurred.
The thought came to Segerman that he should follow the money. If a half-million records were sold, who was on the receiving end of all that dough? In one of the most interesting segments of the movie, Segerman interviews Clarence Avant, former head of the now-defunct Sussex label. Avant claims ignorance, but his squirming in the hot seat in front of the camera reminded me of Mike Wallace grilling people on 60 Minutes.
Like any good detective, Segerman stays on the trail. Finding out what happened to Rodriguez becomes his obsession, to the point where Segerman is referred to by his friends as "Sugar Man," the title of one of Rodriguez' best songs. He seeks out people in the music business, relatives of Rodriguez, and his former co-workers from long ago. How could such a talented artist with such a huge following - - albeit thousands of miles away - - disappear almost without a trace? How could someone with such international star power not be aware of it?
Forty-five minutes into the movie, a major revelation is disclosed to the audience. I could probably spill the beans, since at that point the film is barely at the half-way mark. But on the chance that doing so would constitute an unwelcomed spoiler, I will hold my cards close to the vest and resist the temptation. Suffice it to say that this is one of the three best movies I have seen this year.
As for the music, I love the soundtrack and urge you to add it to your library. The songs are all originals, taken from Rodriguez' two albums. His lyrics might remind you of Dylan, only this man can actually sing. Jose Feliciano's vocals comes to mind, but with a better variety of tempo and production. By the way, if you do acquire the soundtrack on CD, do not read the liner notes until you've seen the movie. The notes writer wasn't as judicious as I in divulging potential spoilers.
There is a saying that life can be cruel, and the application of that adage is quickly unveiled in this movie. Unbeknownst to Rodriguez, his songs became extremely popular in the country of South Africa at a time when the anti-Apartheid movement was shifting into a higher gear. It is estimated that over a half million copies of his records were sold - - some of them as bootlegs - - in that country alone. More than two decades later, Cape Town record store owner Stephen Segerman took it upon himself to investigate who this invisible star was. After a little digging he discovered that there were reports of Rodriguez' death, resulting from a self-inflicted shot to the head during a concert in the States. Yet, Segerman is unable to obtain tangible proof or even any concrete evidence that such a tragedy actually occurred.
The thought came to Segerman that he should follow the money. If a half-million records were sold, who was on the receiving end of all that dough? In one of the most interesting segments of the movie, Segerman interviews Clarence Avant, former head of the now-defunct Sussex label. Avant claims ignorance, but his squirming in the hot seat in front of the camera reminded me of Mike Wallace grilling people on 60 Minutes.
Like any good detective, Segerman stays on the trail. Finding out what happened to Rodriguez becomes his obsession, to the point where Segerman is referred to by his friends as "Sugar Man," the title of one of Rodriguez' best songs. He seeks out people in the music business, relatives of Rodriguez, and his former co-workers from long ago. How could such a talented artist with such a huge following - - albeit thousands of miles away - - disappear almost without a trace? How could someone with such international star power not be aware of it?
Forty-five minutes into the movie, a major revelation is disclosed to the audience. I could probably spill the beans, since at that point the film is barely at the half-way mark. But on the chance that doing so would constitute an unwelcomed spoiler, I will hold my cards close to the vest and resist the temptation. Suffice it to say that this is one of the three best movies I have seen this year.
As for the music, I love the soundtrack and urge you to add it to your library. The songs are all originals, taken from Rodriguez' two albums. His lyrics might remind you of Dylan, only this man can actually sing. Jose Feliciano's vocals comes to mind, but with a better variety of tempo and production. By the way, if you do acquire the soundtrack on CD, do not read the liner notes until you've seen the movie. The notes writer wasn't as judicious as I in divulging potential spoilers.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Movie Review: "Flight"
"Flight": B+. We are introduced to Whip Whitaker (Denzel Washington) by watching him guzzling room temperature beer and snorting coke in his hotel room within minutes of being awakened by an early morning phone call from his ex-wife. They are arguing over their teenage son, with whom Whip has had little contact since the divorce. The timing is particularly bad for Whip, as his much younger girl friend Katerina (Nadine Velazquez) is putting on her clothes, not bothering to seek the privacy of the bathroom. We think to ourselves, "This guy is a swinger who walks on the wild side." That first impression is quickly adjusted when, moments later, Whip exits his room and swaggers down the hall. He is wearing the uniform of an airplane pilot, and he's got a flight to catch at the Orlando airport. He is Captain Whip Whitaker. When he boards the flight on the way to the cockpit he is greeted by a sharply dressed flight attendant, none other than Katerina.
We know from the coming attractions and TV promos that this short Orlando to Atlanta flight is doomed, and that were it not for the skill and courage of Captain Whit, all of those aboard the flight would perish. Knowing this ahead of time does not in any way diminish for us the nail-biting tension and thrill of watching what transpires on board. Director Robert Zemeckis makes us feel like we are on board too. We also realize, if we are capable of thinking about anything else in the heat of the moment, that the star of this movie is Washington. Zemeckis is not going to bump him off in the first twenty minutes of the story. However, the ensuing crash is not without fatalities. The NTSB is going to investigate, and that spells trouble for Whit, who wakes up in a hospital wearing bandages over his face and IV hook-ups to his arm. He finds out later that his blood has been drawn and tested while he lay unconscious in the hospital.
While the plane is in mid-air, but before the crash, the camera switches briefly to the poor side of Atlanta, where another druggie, Nicole (Kelly Reilly), desperately needs money to pay her rent and to satisfy her narcotic craving. She'll take her money any way she can get it, but draws the line when a porn producer offers her a gig. When she ODs after injecting herself, she ends up in the same hospital as Whit. They meet each other in a stairwell, where they have gone to momentarily escape detection while they have a cigarette or two.
Back to Whit's situation. He soon realizes that not only is his flying career in jeopardy, but he faces criminal prosecution, with life jail term possibilities, for flying the plane while under the influence of alcohol and drugs. The pilots' union has a representative (Bruce Greenwood) to help him, and a lawyer (Don Cheadle) to find legal loopholes to make things as tough as possible for the NTSB investigation. Their strategy is to blame the airplane manufacturer for the crash. "The plane quit working in mid-air." The union rep and the lawyer are needed, but a third aid is the only one Whip totally trusts, Harling Mays (John Goodman), who is a combination wing man, drug supplier, body guard and hippie mystic. Once again - - and this is about the third or fourth time I've written this in 2012 - - Goodman steals every scene he's in.
What the union rep and the lawyer don't know initially is that Whip is an alcoholic. What happens when they, or the NTSB, find out? Will Whip lose his wings? Will he do hard time? Can he stay sober long enough to get through the NTSB investigation? Can Nicole help him, or are her own problems insurmountable?
Most movies featuring an alcoholic as the protagonist have a fine line to tread. The alcohol abuse needs to rear its ugly head enough times for the viewer to appreciate the sadness and severity of the problem. Yet, once that realization is instilled in the collective awareness of the audience, the point does not need to be further hammered home. We almost get to that point in Flight, and indeed, maybe Zemeckis is guilty of crossing it. Nevertheless, I found enough other aspects of the movie laudable so that, in my view, the movie succeeds. Foremost among them is the stellar acting performance by Denzel Washington. As a pilot, a playboy, a liar or a lush, Washington becomes his character. The supporting cast delivers too. Reilly's role calls for her to be pretty enough to be tempting, but sometimes gaunt and disheveled when she is high. Cheadle nails it as the union attorney. He is not afraid to tackle the NTSB, and gives advise to his client, Whip, which is practical and legally sound. He has to be careful not to violate the lawyer's Professional Code of Ethics, providing Whip an aggressive defense without literally telling Whip to lie. There is one scene where the attorney witnesses an illegal operation (payment to a drug dealer), but manages to keep his involvement indirect.
Flight raises serious questions involving morality and ethics. The question that keeps coming up, and which Whip himself asks, is this: If anyone else had been in the pilot's chair for that fateful flight, would there be any survivors? If the answer is "unlikely," does that excuse him from driving drunk? You will have to see this movie to find out how the obvious answer is determined. Don't count on seeing it as part of the on-board entertainment on your next Delta flight.
We know from the coming attractions and TV promos that this short Orlando to Atlanta flight is doomed, and that were it not for the skill and courage of Captain Whit, all of those aboard the flight would perish. Knowing this ahead of time does not in any way diminish for us the nail-biting tension and thrill of watching what transpires on board. Director Robert Zemeckis makes us feel like we are on board too. We also realize, if we are capable of thinking about anything else in the heat of the moment, that the star of this movie is Washington. Zemeckis is not going to bump him off in the first twenty minutes of the story. However, the ensuing crash is not without fatalities. The NTSB is going to investigate, and that spells trouble for Whit, who wakes up in a hospital wearing bandages over his face and IV hook-ups to his arm. He finds out later that his blood has been drawn and tested while he lay unconscious in the hospital.
While the plane is in mid-air, but before the crash, the camera switches briefly to the poor side of Atlanta, where another druggie, Nicole (Kelly Reilly), desperately needs money to pay her rent and to satisfy her narcotic craving. She'll take her money any way she can get it, but draws the line when a porn producer offers her a gig. When she ODs after injecting herself, she ends up in the same hospital as Whit. They meet each other in a stairwell, where they have gone to momentarily escape detection while they have a cigarette or two.
Back to Whit's situation. He soon realizes that not only is his flying career in jeopardy, but he faces criminal prosecution, with life jail term possibilities, for flying the plane while under the influence of alcohol and drugs. The pilots' union has a representative (Bruce Greenwood) to help him, and a lawyer (Don Cheadle) to find legal loopholes to make things as tough as possible for the NTSB investigation. Their strategy is to blame the airplane manufacturer for the crash. "The plane quit working in mid-air." The union rep and the lawyer are needed, but a third aid is the only one Whip totally trusts, Harling Mays (John Goodman), who is a combination wing man, drug supplier, body guard and hippie mystic. Once again - - and this is about the third or fourth time I've written this in 2012 - - Goodman steals every scene he's in.
What the union rep and the lawyer don't know initially is that Whip is an alcoholic. What happens when they, or the NTSB, find out? Will Whip lose his wings? Will he do hard time? Can he stay sober long enough to get through the NTSB investigation? Can Nicole help him, or are her own problems insurmountable?
Most movies featuring an alcoholic as the protagonist have a fine line to tread. The alcohol abuse needs to rear its ugly head enough times for the viewer to appreciate the sadness and severity of the problem. Yet, once that realization is instilled in the collective awareness of the audience, the point does not need to be further hammered home. We almost get to that point in Flight, and indeed, maybe Zemeckis is guilty of crossing it. Nevertheless, I found enough other aspects of the movie laudable so that, in my view, the movie succeeds. Foremost among them is the stellar acting performance by Denzel Washington. As a pilot, a playboy, a liar or a lush, Washington becomes his character. The supporting cast delivers too. Reilly's role calls for her to be pretty enough to be tempting, but sometimes gaunt and disheveled when she is high. Cheadle nails it as the union attorney. He is not afraid to tackle the NTSB, and gives advise to his client, Whip, which is practical and legally sound. He has to be careful not to violate the lawyer's Professional Code of Ethics, providing Whip an aggressive defense without literally telling Whip to lie. There is one scene where the attorney witnesses an illegal operation (payment to a drug dealer), but manages to keep his involvement indirect.
Flight raises serious questions involving morality and ethics. The question that keeps coming up, and which Whip himself asks, is this: If anyone else had been in the pilot's chair for that fateful flight, would there be any survivors? If the answer is "unlikely," does that excuse him from driving drunk? You will have to see this movie to find out how the obvious answer is determined. Don't count on seeing it as part of the on-board entertainment on your next Delta flight.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Mountain State Is Key To Uphill Climb
The national media tells us there are nine battleground states for tomorrow's presidential election. They are New Hampshire, Virginia, North Carolina and Florida along the east coast; Ohio, Wisconsin and Iowa in the Midwest; and Colorado and Nevada in the mountains. According to the New York Times, North Carolina and Nevada are not all that close, with The Tar Heel State leaning toward Governor Romney, and The Silver State picking President Obama. The other forty-one states and the District of Columbia apparently are already spoken for. I wonder if that is how the campaign directors view it. Why did the Democrats send Bill Clinton to St. Cloud two days before the election? Why did the Twin Cities get a visit from Paul Ryan? Could it be that The Gopher State is still in play? I am also hearing from my crack research team of three (me, myself and I) that Pennsylvania, which has not voted Republican since 1988, is not a gimme for the Prez.
One of the interesting things about the lay of the land is that five of those so-called battleground states, plus Pennsylvania, are in the Eastern Time Zone. Their polling places will close mid-evening Minnesota Time, meaning that we might have a pretty good idea before the Ten O'Clock Snooze (as WCCO news legend Dave Moore used to say) whether there will be a changing of the guard in the White House. One election historical nugget we have heard over and over is that no Republican has ever been elected President without taking Ohio. In fact, assuming the forty-one "non-battleground" states (including Minnesota and Pennsylvania) go as predicted, if President Obama wins both Florida and Ohio that will put him over the requisite 270 Electoral Votes.
Can Romney win without Ohio? For the sake of discussion, let's say Obama wins in Ohio but Romney triumphs in Florida. With the seven remaining battleground states still up for grabs, there are 128 possible combinations, and Obama wins under a whopping 116 of them. Is it unreasonable to think that North Carolina, Virginia and New Hampshire, all of which voted blue in 2008, might turn red this time? Since the Reagan Landslide in 1984 there have been six presidential elections. North Carolina and Virginia voted Republican in every one of them except the last one (2008). New Hampshire has only gone red two out of those six elections (1988 and 2000), but the Republicans are crossing their fingers that the voters in the Granite State will support the candidate who has a residence there, viz., Mitt Romney.
If (again, for the sake of discussion) we give North Carolina, Virginia and New Hampshire to Romney, where does that leave us? First, to be fair, let's give Nevada to the Democrats, as the Times is predicting. (After all, any populace which would re-elect Harry Reid to the Senate in 2010 for a third term is probably not going to abandon his ship.) Now we are down to three battleground states (Wisconsin, Iowa and Colorado), with 8 corresponding possibilities. Here they are:
1. WI-R; IA-R; CO-R. Romney wins.
2. WI-R; IA-R; CO-D. Obama wins.
3. WI-R; IA-D; CO-R. Romney wins.
4. WI-R; IA-D; CO-D. Obama wins.
5. WI-D; IA-R; CO-R. Obama wins.
6. WI-D; IA-R; CO-D. Obama wins.
7. WI-D; IA-D; CO-R. Obama wins.
8. WI-D; IA-D; CO-D. Obama wins.
If you are supporting the President, you have to feel pretty good about your chances. He wins under six of the eight scenarios.
Romney needs Wisconsin (see # 5 above), the state that voted to keep their current Republican governor, Scott Walker, in office after a hotly contested recall effort. Although Paul Ryan is their native son, Wisconsin has voted Democrat in all of the six presidential elections since the Reagan Landslide. Romney also needs Colorado (see # 2 above), a state that has proven to be unpredictable and independent-minded in recent years. In 2008, Wisconsin and Colorado gave Obama 56% and 54% of their votes, respectively. Most of the campaign pre-election talk has been about Ohio and Florida, but Wisconsin and Colorado will be the center of attention if the early results from the Eastern Time Zone hot spots are not dispositive of the issue.
You may be well advised to keep your favorite pizza delivery business on speed dial. It could be a two dinner night. Let's hope there are no hanging chads.
One of the interesting things about the lay of the land is that five of those so-called battleground states, plus Pennsylvania, are in the Eastern Time Zone. Their polling places will close mid-evening Minnesota Time, meaning that we might have a pretty good idea before the Ten O'Clock Snooze (as WCCO news legend Dave Moore used to say) whether there will be a changing of the guard in the White House. One election historical nugget we have heard over and over is that no Republican has ever been elected President without taking Ohio. In fact, assuming the forty-one "non-battleground" states (including Minnesota and Pennsylvania) go as predicted, if President Obama wins both Florida and Ohio that will put him over the requisite 270 Electoral Votes.
Can Romney win without Ohio? For the sake of discussion, let's say Obama wins in Ohio but Romney triumphs in Florida. With the seven remaining battleground states still up for grabs, there are 128 possible combinations, and Obama wins under a whopping 116 of them. Is it unreasonable to think that North Carolina, Virginia and New Hampshire, all of which voted blue in 2008, might turn red this time? Since the Reagan Landslide in 1984 there have been six presidential elections. North Carolina and Virginia voted Republican in every one of them except the last one (2008). New Hampshire has only gone red two out of those six elections (1988 and 2000), but the Republicans are crossing their fingers that the voters in the Granite State will support the candidate who has a residence there, viz., Mitt Romney.
If (again, for the sake of discussion) we give North Carolina, Virginia and New Hampshire to Romney, where does that leave us? First, to be fair, let's give Nevada to the Democrats, as the Times is predicting. (After all, any populace which would re-elect Harry Reid to the Senate in 2010 for a third term is probably not going to abandon his ship.) Now we are down to three battleground states (Wisconsin, Iowa and Colorado), with 8 corresponding possibilities. Here they are:
1. WI-R; IA-R; CO-R. Romney wins.
2. WI-R; IA-R; CO-D. Obama wins.
3. WI-R; IA-D; CO-R. Romney wins.
4. WI-R; IA-D; CO-D. Obama wins.
5. WI-D; IA-R; CO-R. Obama wins.
6. WI-D; IA-R; CO-D. Obama wins.
7. WI-D; IA-D; CO-R. Obama wins.
8. WI-D; IA-D; CO-D. Obama wins.
If you are supporting the President, you have to feel pretty good about your chances. He wins under six of the eight scenarios.
Romney needs Wisconsin (see # 5 above), the state that voted to keep their current Republican governor, Scott Walker, in office after a hotly contested recall effort. Although Paul Ryan is their native son, Wisconsin has voted Democrat in all of the six presidential elections since the Reagan Landslide. Romney also needs Colorado (see # 2 above), a state that has proven to be unpredictable and independent-minded in recent years. In 2008, Wisconsin and Colorado gave Obama 56% and 54% of their votes, respectively. Most of the campaign pre-election talk has been about Ohio and Florida, but Wisconsin and Colorado will be the center of attention if the early results from the Eastern Time Zone hot spots are not dispositive of the issue.
You may be well advised to keep your favorite pizza delivery business on speed dial. It could be a two dinner night. Let's hope there are no hanging chads.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Album Review: "Night Train" - Jason Aldean
"Night Train": A-. It is not often that I will listen to the latest record release by a music artist and subsequently decide to purchase all of that artist's previous records. After enjoying Jason Aldean's latest effort, Night Train, which was released in mid-October, I have decided to take the plunge. Right before the Quentin Chronicle was created in November 2011, I saw Aldean on a country music awards show and was impressed enough to buy his fourth album, My Kinda Party. There are a few songs on that record that have stuck with me over time, and I predict that at least a handful of tunes from Night Train will as well.
Common themes that one can find in Aldean's songs are: his love of small towns, including those he's left behind; riding in a truck or an old Ford through the countryside and headed for a favorite spot, usually with his girl snuggled next to him in the front seat; rivers and fields; putting in a hard day's work; and memories of his escapades as a teen. The lyrics evoke pictures in the listeners' minds. Who needs music video?
Aldean grew up in Macon, Georgia and moved to Nashville at the age of twenty-one to pursue his music career. He was not exactly an overnight sensation, but stuck with his dreams through the ups and downs. Three years later he married his high school sweetheart, Jessica, and four years after that released his debut self-titled album.
Some folks dislike country music because they view it as having too narrow a range of subjects, usually drinking, fighting or lost love. While you can find songs in the Aldean catalogue that fall into those categories, his repertoire is much broader than that, and so is the perspective from which he sings. For example, Wheels Rollin' is one of the better songs I've heard describing what it's like to live the road-weary life of a touring band. In Black Tears he laments the sad degrading situation facing a dancer at a strip club. In Water Tower, he personifies his home town's water tower, which has seen the town's major events unfold before it and has served "like a lighthouse in a storm" to guide the singer back home. Drink One For Me appears to be sung from the perspective of a soldier stationed overseas who is thinking about his friends back in his old stomping grounds.
My favorite song on the disc is the lead-off, This Nothin' Town. I always think it's wise to start an album with a song which would make a good live concert opener. Excellent choice by Aldean here, as this number has a rock n' roll feel but with country lyrics:
It might look a little laid back to ya
But it ain't all just porches and plows
But don't let that one red light fool ya
There's always something going down in this nothin' town.
The title track, Night Train, is memorable. He and his girl drive out to the country, then hop out and start running toward the hillside where they can camp and watch the freight train go by.
Hurry up girl I hear it comin'
Got a moon and a billion stars
Sound of steel and old boxcars...
Let's go listen to the night train.
Of course, as alluded to above, what would a country album be without a few love songs? These are the songs which best suit Aldean's sincere southern voice. Two of the best are Talk and Walking Away. In the first of the pair the singer tells his girl that he's tired of talking, now "I don't want to waste that moon." It's time to move on to something else. I wonder what he has in mind? The second song is a warning to a girl who's attracted to him. He tells her that if she's smart she will walk away as fast as she can. She can't "be the angel that could make me change." She is too good for him; he knows it but she doesn't.
Common themes that one can find in Aldean's songs are: his love of small towns, including those he's left behind; riding in a truck or an old Ford through the countryside and headed for a favorite spot, usually with his girl snuggled next to him in the front seat; rivers and fields; putting in a hard day's work; and memories of his escapades as a teen. The lyrics evoke pictures in the listeners' minds. Who needs music video?
Aldean grew up in Macon, Georgia and moved to Nashville at the age of twenty-one to pursue his music career. He was not exactly an overnight sensation, but stuck with his dreams through the ups and downs. Three years later he married his high school sweetheart, Jessica, and four years after that released his debut self-titled album.
Some folks dislike country music because they view it as having too narrow a range of subjects, usually drinking, fighting or lost love. While you can find songs in the Aldean catalogue that fall into those categories, his repertoire is much broader than that, and so is the perspective from which he sings. For example, Wheels Rollin' is one of the better songs I've heard describing what it's like to live the road-weary life of a touring band. In Black Tears he laments the sad degrading situation facing a dancer at a strip club. In Water Tower, he personifies his home town's water tower, which has seen the town's major events unfold before it and has served "like a lighthouse in a storm" to guide the singer back home. Drink One For Me appears to be sung from the perspective of a soldier stationed overseas who is thinking about his friends back in his old stomping grounds.
My favorite song on the disc is the lead-off, This Nothin' Town. I always think it's wise to start an album with a song which would make a good live concert opener. Excellent choice by Aldean here, as this number has a rock n' roll feel but with country lyrics:
It might look a little laid back to ya
But it ain't all just porches and plows
But don't let that one red light fool ya
There's always something going down in this nothin' town.
The title track, Night Train, is memorable. He and his girl drive out to the country, then hop out and start running toward the hillside where they can camp and watch the freight train go by.
Hurry up girl I hear it comin'
Got a moon and a billion stars
Sound of steel and old boxcars...
Let's go listen to the night train.
Of course, as alluded to above, what would a country album be without a few love songs? These are the songs which best suit Aldean's sincere southern voice. Two of the best are Talk and Walking Away. In the first of the pair the singer tells his girl that he's tired of talking, now "I don't want to waste that moon." It's time to move on to something else. I wonder what he has in mind? The second song is a warning to a girl who's attracted to him. He tells her that if she's smart she will walk away as fast as she can. She can't "be the angel that could make me change." She is too good for him; he knows it but she doesn't.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Refusing To Sleep With The Enemy
In the world of sports, what if it would behoove your team to have your bitter rival win its next game against another opponent which poses a bigger threat to your team than does your rival? That is the exact situation faced by fans of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish this coming weekend.
Under the current rules of the BCS (which stands for "Bowl Championship Series"), only the top two rated teams have an opportunity to play in the National Championship Game on January 7, 2013. There is no tournament like the NCAA has for basketball. The BCS ratings are calculated weekly using a somewhat complicated formula involving two polls (the Harris Interactive Poll and the USA Today Coaches' Poll) and six computer rankings. Each of the six computer rankings takes into account not only a team's won-loss record but also its strength of schedule (SOS). Thus, beating a team ranked, say, number 9 is worth more in the computer rankings than beating a team ranked number 19. (Incidentally, the BCS system for determining the national champion is going to be replaced by a four-team playoff, starting with the 2014 season.)
According to the BCS ratings which were released two days ago, the top four teams, in order, are Alabama, Kansas State, Notre Dame and Oregon. All four of those teams are undefeated, and since they are not scheduled to play each other, there is a decent chance - - I would put it at about 80% for each team - - that their records will remain unblemished throughout the remainder of the regular season. Thus, the fans of each team will not only be cheering for that team; they will also be pulling for the other three top-rated teams to lose, thereby enhancing their own team's chances of getting into the National Championship Game. Right?
As former Indiana head coach and ABC analyst Lee Corso would say, "Not so fast, my friend!"
Consider this coming weekend's slate of games. Number 1 Alabama plays LSU. The Crimson Tide is a 9.5 point pick, even though the game is in Baton Rouge. ND fans will automatically hope the Tigers can pull the upset (even though the LSU head coach is a Michigan alum, the wacky Les Miles). Similarly, Irish fans won't hesitate to cheer against number 2 Kansas State, which is an 8 point pick this weekend over visiting Oklahoma State. However, it is the third battle, number 4 Oregon against Notre Dame's arch rival, Southern Cal, which is causing a division in the ranks of Irish boosters. For which team should we cheer?
At first blush this should be a no-brainer, at least for the casual observer. A win by Southern Cal, which is a seven point home dog, would deliver two immediate benefits to Notre Dame. First and most obviously, it would knock Oregon from the ranks of the unbeaten and give ND some BCS breathing room. (I am going out on a limb by predicting Notre Dame covers the seventeen point spread against Pitt in The Bend.) Secondly, a win by SC on Saturday would benefit Notre Dame's SOS if the Irish manage to beat the Trojans over Thankgiving weekend.
There is, however, one tiny problem in asking this Domer, and many other Domers, to cheer for a Southern Cal victory on Saturday over the Ducks. To wit, I would be cheering for Southern Cal! You can call me a fool or you can call me short-sighted. You can even call me Al. I am sorry, I just cannot bring myself to cheer for the Trojans.
When I think of Southern Cal I think of cheaters like former running back Reggie Bush, whose family accepted at least $200,000 in illegal benefits from SC boosters. I think of former head coach Pete Carroll, who got out of Dodge and fled to the Seattle Seahawks right before the NCAA lowered the boom with very tough sanctions, including drastic scholarship reductions and a two year bowl ban, against his program. I think of phantom penalties in the LA Coliseum, including the invisible holding penalty which cost ND a national championship in 1964, not to mention mysterious holding and clipping penalties throughout the years which never show up during a replay review. I think of athletic directors like Mike Garrett, who finally got fired for "looking the other way" when NCAA rules were being broken right under his nose. I think of their football practices being open to visits from Hollywood stars and rappers who have no connection to the school. I think of former quarterback Matt Leinart, who was enrolled in a single class, ballroom dancing, to keep his eligibility alive for his final season. I think of Southern Cal's current coach, Lane Kiffin, a Minnesota native who is such a horse's patootie he makes Jay Cutler look like Billy Graham. And of course, who can think of USC without recalling their most famous football player, stone cold killer OJ Simpson? Only a jury of his starstruck peers believed The Juice was innocent.
My theory is this: If Notre Dame keeps winning, things will work themselves out. If I'm wrong and it turns out that a perfect season by the Irish does not result in a chance to play in the National Championship Game, so be it. I will still be able to look in the mirror knowing that I didn't prostitute myself by rooting for an SC victory over the Ducks. As we used to cry out during SC Week back in the day, "Puncture the Trojans!"
Under the current rules of the BCS (which stands for "Bowl Championship Series"), only the top two rated teams have an opportunity to play in the National Championship Game on January 7, 2013. There is no tournament like the NCAA has for basketball. The BCS ratings are calculated weekly using a somewhat complicated formula involving two polls (the Harris Interactive Poll and the USA Today Coaches' Poll) and six computer rankings. Each of the six computer rankings takes into account not only a team's won-loss record but also its strength of schedule (SOS). Thus, beating a team ranked, say, number 9 is worth more in the computer rankings than beating a team ranked number 19. (Incidentally, the BCS system for determining the national champion is going to be replaced by a four-team playoff, starting with the 2014 season.)
According to the BCS ratings which were released two days ago, the top four teams, in order, are Alabama, Kansas State, Notre Dame and Oregon. All four of those teams are undefeated, and since they are not scheduled to play each other, there is a decent chance - - I would put it at about 80% for each team - - that their records will remain unblemished throughout the remainder of the regular season. Thus, the fans of each team will not only be cheering for that team; they will also be pulling for the other three top-rated teams to lose, thereby enhancing their own team's chances of getting into the National Championship Game. Right?
As former Indiana head coach and ABC analyst Lee Corso would say, "Not so fast, my friend!"
Consider this coming weekend's slate of games. Number 1 Alabama plays LSU. The Crimson Tide is a 9.5 point pick, even though the game is in Baton Rouge. ND fans will automatically hope the Tigers can pull the upset (even though the LSU head coach is a Michigan alum, the wacky Les Miles). Similarly, Irish fans won't hesitate to cheer against number 2 Kansas State, which is an 8 point pick this weekend over visiting Oklahoma State. However, it is the third battle, number 4 Oregon against Notre Dame's arch rival, Southern Cal, which is causing a division in the ranks of Irish boosters. For which team should we cheer?
At first blush this should be a no-brainer, at least for the casual observer. A win by Southern Cal, which is a seven point home dog, would deliver two immediate benefits to Notre Dame. First and most obviously, it would knock Oregon from the ranks of the unbeaten and give ND some BCS breathing room. (I am going out on a limb by predicting Notre Dame covers the seventeen point spread against Pitt in The Bend.) Secondly, a win by SC on Saturday would benefit Notre Dame's SOS if the Irish manage to beat the Trojans over Thankgiving weekend.
There is, however, one tiny problem in asking this Domer, and many other Domers, to cheer for a Southern Cal victory on Saturday over the Ducks. To wit, I would be cheering for Southern Cal! You can call me a fool or you can call me short-sighted. You can even call me Al. I am sorry, I just cannot bring myself to cheer for the Trojans.
When I think of Southern Cal I think of cheaters like former running back Reggie Bush, whose family accepted at least $200,000 in illegal benefits from SC boosters. I think of former head coach Pete Carroll, who got out of Dodge and fled to the Seattle Seahawks right before the NCAA lowered the boom with very tough sanctions, including drastic scholarship reductions and a two year bowl ban, against his program. I think of phantom penalties in the LA Coliseum, including the invisible holding penalty which cost ND a national championship in 1964, not to mention mysterious holding and clipping penalties throughout the years which never show up during a replay review. I think of athletic directors like Mike Garrett, who finally got fired for "looking the other way" when NCAA rules were being broken right under his nose. I think of their football practices being open to visits from Hollywood stars and rappers who have no connection to the school. I think of former quarterback Matt Leinart, who was enrolled in a single class, ballroom dancing, to keep his eligibility alive for his final season. I think of Southern Cal's current coach, Lane Kiffin, a Minnesota native who is such a horse's patootie he makes Jay Cutler look like Billy Graham. And of course, who can think of USC without recalling their most famous football player, stone cold killer OJ Simpson? Only a jury of his starstruck peers believed The Juice was innocent.
My theory is this: If Notre Dame keeps winning, things will work themselves out. If I'm wrong and it turns out that a perfect season by the Irish does not result in a chance to play in the National Championship Game, so be it. I will still be able to look in the mirror knowing that I didn't prostitute myself by rooting for an SC victory over the Ducks. As we used to cry out during SC Week back in the day, "Puncture the Trojans!"
Friday, October 26, 2012
Movie Review: "Argo"
"Argo": B+. By 1979, the Shah of Iran had been ruling his country for over twenty-five years. He had come into power with the assistance of the United States, but the people hated his cruel style of leadership, which included Gestapo-style secret police and harsh punishment for his political foes. Finally, a student-led rebellion ousted the Shah and he fled, dying of cancer, to the US, where he was welcomed by our federal government. Back in Iran, anti-American sentiment fueled by the country's new revolutionary leader, the Ayatollah Khomeini, resulted in the storming of the walled and barricaded American embassy in Tehran, where fifty-two US citizens were imprisoned and held captive. Moments before the siege, six Americans somehow managed to get out to the street, and covertly gained refuge in the home of the Canadian ambassador a few miles away. This movie is the story of how the CIA attempted to rescue The Six before the Iranians realized that they were still in Tehran.
Ben Affleck plays Tony Mendez, a CIA troubleshooter who is picked by his boss, Jack O'Donnell (Bryan Cranston), to devise a plan to get The Six out. They are working against the clock, because they correctly predict that the revolutionaries will be able to piece back together the shredded documents in the embassy office and determine that they are six prisoners short. Meanwhile, the Canadian ambassador and his wife are risking their own lives by hiding The Six in their home. If found out, they will be labeled as spies by the revolutionaries and probably summarily and publicly executed along with The Six.
The US Department Of State does not think much of Mendez' seemingly goofy plan to use a phony film project as a subterfuge to get The Six out. His idea is to create fake IDs for The Six, and then pass them off as part of a Canadian film crew which is scouting Tehran for locations for a futuristic sci-fi movie called Argo. (For reasons of clarity, I will call the sci-fi movie Fake Argo.) After discussing alternatives such as using bicycles (rejected due to too much snow and too great a distance from Tehran to the border) or having The Six pose as teachers (rejected because the English school in Tehran had been closed for eight months), one State Department honcho concedes to Mendez, "All of the rescue ideas are bad, but yours is the least bad."
In order to convince the Iranians that the film project is legit, Mendez enlists the support of Hollywood make-up artist John Chambers (John Goodman), who in turn talks director Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin) into signing on. As is usually the case with those two actors, they bring the story up a notch by supplying humor (among other things) to counterbalance the otherwise dramatic unfolding of the plot. Chambers and Siegel use their Hollywood connections to get story boards, posters, press releases and other film production paraphernalia created for Mendez to take with him to Tehran to give Fake Argo indices of authenticity and legitimacy.
The bulk of Argo shows how Mendez' steady hand and fearlessness gives The Six their chance to escape. None of The Six knows the first thing about filmmaking, and they aren't too sure that Mendez' plan won't be suicidal. Mendez convinces them that his plan is their only chance to get out of Iran alive, so they must learn their roles, not to mention their new fake identities and background bios as they appear on their phony Canadian passports. Affleck, who also directed this movie, does a credible job as Mister Cool, Calm & Collected, which was probably Mendez' demeanor in real life. The scenes shift from revolutionary headquarters to Washington, DC, to the hostages held captive in the US embassy, to the Canadian ambassador's home which is functioning as the hideout of The Six. The tension mounts and the clock is ticking, because the revolutionaries start to piece things together.
The denouement, unfortunately, is a little beyond the scope of reason and believability, but I chose not to let that interfere with my overall enjoyment of the movie. (It is the first movie I attended in almost a month!) Another minor irritation is that I enjoyed most of the songs, including tracks by Dire Straits and Van Halen, but too many of them did not relate to what was happening on the screen. It's almost as if the film's music director picked a few of his favorite classic rock gems at random. Finally, the sound bite spin by former President Jimmy Carter during the closing credits regarding the fifty-two hostages (who were held for 444 days and were not released until Carter's term as President expired) is both laughable and inaccurate. I guess the man could not face the truth.
Ironically, even though Fake Argo was a fictitious film, the concept of which was created soley as a ruse to rescue The Six, their story is based on fact. The taking of the US embassy occurred in 1979, but the details surrounding the story of The Six never came to light until they were de-classified by President Clinton in 1994. I have always admired the Canadian people. Now having watched Argo, I like them even more.
Ben Affleck plays Tony Mendez, a CIA troubleshooter who is picked by his boss, Jack O'Donnell (Bryan Cranston), to devise a plan to get The Six out. They are working against the clock, because they correctly predict that the revolutionaries will be able to piece back together the shredded documents in the embassy office and determine that they are six prisoners short. Meanwhile, the Canadian ambassador and his wife are risking their own lives by hiding The Six in their home. If found out, they will be labeled as spies by the revolutionaries and probably summarily and publicly executed along with The Six.
The US Department Of State does not think much of Mendez' seemingly goofy plan to use a phony film project as a subterfuge to get The Six out. His idea is to create fake IDs for The Six, and then pass them off as part of a Canadian film crew which is scouting Tehran for locations for a futuristic sci-fi movie called Argo. (For reasons of clarity, I will call the sci-fi movie Fake Argo.) After discussing alternatives such as using bicycles (rejected due to too much snow and too great a distance from Tehran to the border) or having The Six pose as teachers (rejected because the English school in Tehran had been closed for eight months), one State Department honcho concedes to Mendez, "All of the rescue ideas are bad, but yours is the least bad."
In order to convince the Iranians that the film project is legit, Mendez enlists the support of Hollywood make-up artist John Chambers (John Goodman), who in turn talks director Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin) into signing on. As is usually the case with those two actors, they bring the story up a notch by supplying humor (among other things) to counterbalance the otherwise dramatic unfolding of the plot. Chambers and Siegel use their Hollywood connections to get story boards, posters, press releases and other film production paraphernalia created for Mendez to take with him to Tehran to give Fake Argo indices of authenticity and legitimacy.
The bulk of Argo shows how Mendez' steady hand and fearlessness gives The Six their chance to escape. None of The Six knows the first thing about filmmaking, and they aren't too sure that Mendez' plan won't be suicidal. Mendez convinces them that his plan is their only chance to get out of Iran alive, so they must learn their roles, not to mention their new fake identities and background bios as they appear on their phony Canadian passports. Affleck, who also directed this movie, does a credible job as Mister Cool, Calm & Collected, which was probably Mendez' demeanor in real life. The scenes shift from revolutionary headquarters to Washington, DC, to the hostages held captive in the US embassy, to the Canadian ambassador's home which is functioning as the hideout of The Six. The tension mounts and the clock is ticking, because the revolutionaries start to piece things together.
The denouement, unfortunately, is a little beyond the scope of reason and believability, but I chose not to let that interfere with my overall enjoyment of the movie. (It is the first movie I attended in almost a month!) Another minor irritation is that I enjoyed most of the songs, including tracks by Dire Straits and Van Halen, but too many of them did not relate to what was happening on the screen. It's almost as if the film's music director picked a few of his favorite classic rock gems at random. Finally, the sound bite spin by former President Jimmy Carter during the closing credits regarding the fifty-two hostages (who were held for 444 days and were not released until Carter's term as President expired) is both laughable and inaccurate. I guess the man could not face the truth.
Ironically, even though Fake Argo was a fictitious film, the concept of which was created soley as a ruse to rescue The Six, their story is based on fact. The taking of the US embassy occurred in 1979, but the details surrounding the story of The Six never came to light until they were de-classified by President Clinton in 1994. I have always admired the Canadian people. Now having watched Argo, I like them even more.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Album Review: "Tempest" - Bob Dylan
"Tempest": B+ It is not uncommon for a singer to get to the point in his life when he simply cannot reach the same vocal range that he was able to call upon in his younger days. Some decide to save face and concentrate more on writing, producing, managing or promoting other artists. Some, such as Paul McCartney, decide to battle on and more or less warble their way through some of the notes. Another tact is to speak some of the lyrics where once there was singing. Neil Diamond comes to mind. "It doesn't matter," their fans say, "we forgive you and we still love you." In Diamond's case, he is entitled to speak a few lines now and again because he is a great entertainer who gives a concert crowd their money's worth with every evening's performance. Not only that, the songs are his; he wrote them. In McCartney's case, not only is he the guy who penned the songs, he's a Beatle, for cryin' out loud! He don't need no stinkin' reason.
Now we come to Bob Dylan, whose first Top 40 song, Subterranean Homesick Blues, was released forty-seven years ago. Dylan just released his thirty-fifth studio album, Tempest, earlier this month. Dylan is another singer who talks his way through the songs. But unlike Diamond, who as a young man had excellent vocal chops, Dylan has used talking as his standard lyric delivery vehicle since he was in his twenties. Some early examples, all from 1965 and '66, include Positively Fourth Street, Rainy Day Women # 12 & 35, and Just Like A Woman. In my view, Dylan has always been foremost a poet. He is a poet who sings his poems, if you loosely define "sings." And so it is that when the Duluth-born Bobby D, at the age of 71, releases a new album, the evaluation should give the most weight to the poetry. We already know he can't sing worth a hoot.
Not to belabor the point, but this truth was brought home when I played the first track, Duquesne Whistle. It had been awhile since I'd listened to Dylan, so his raspiness kind of jolted me as he started to sing after a fifty-three second instrumental intro. I quickly adjusted. It turns out that Duquesne Whistle is one of the highlights of the ten song album, and for my money contains the best musicianship. The snare drums of George G. Receli definitely remind the listener of the clickety-clack you'd hear on a train. The whistle brings back memories, both good and bad, for the singer as the southbound train gets him closer to his home town.
Most of the songs occupying the middle of the album are dark, and all of them are mysterious. In Soon After Midnight, among the slowest tempos of the ten selections, he appears to be apologizing to a woman he wants to return to after disappointing flings with others. A similar tone is struck with Long And Wasted Years, where once again he is heard apologizing. In Scarlet Town the singer describes where he was born, switching between praise and damnation. Which is it? Pay In Blood is another song which, even after several listenings, is subject to a wide spectrum of interpretations. Is the singer sentenced to hard labor in a prison, or is he calling out the dishonest politicians and their graft?
The last three songs of the album will probably generate the most discussion among Dylan aficionados. Tin Angel is a thumping nine minute slow story about a king who gathers an army to go after his unfaithful wife who has been whisked away by a rival chieftain. The trick to understanding this song is to read the lyrics while listening, because the quotation marks on the lyric sheet enable the listener to figure out which of three characters is speaking. It is my favorite song on the menu, one that conjures up vivid pictures in my imagination. The title track, Tempest, is a fourteen minute ballad telling a partly fictionalized account of the Titanic tragedy. The song has an Irish folk vibe, which is appropriate since the last port of call on the voyage was Cobh (fka Queenstown), Ireland. The album closes with Roll On John, a tribute to the fallen Beatle, John Lennon, who was, in a lot of ways, the English Bob Dylan.
Even though the album is dark and moody, Dylan does have some fun with a handful of lyrics, including "Shake it up baby, twist and shout" from Long And Wasted Years, "Little boy blue come blow your horn" from Scarlet Town, and "I heard the news today, oh boy" from Roll On John.
I predict Tempest will go down as one of the best Dylan albums of the twenty-first century, yet I'm not sure it's deserving of a grade higher than B+. The poetry is outstanding, but the randomness of the lyrics and the simpleness and sameness of the melodies are the counter-balancing aspects that I can't overlook.
Now we come to Bob Dylan, whose first Top 40 song, Subterranean Homesick Blues, was released forty-seven years ago. Dylan just released his thirty-fifth studio album, Tempest, earlier this month. Dylan is another singer who talks his way through the songs. But unlike Diamond, who as a young man had excellent vocal chops, Dylan has used talking as his standard lyric delivery vehicle since he was in his twenties. Some early examples, all from 1965 and '66, include Positively Fourth Street, Rainy Day Women # 12 & 35, and Just Like A Woman. In my view, Dylan has always been foremost a poet. He is a poet who sings his poems, if you loosely define "sings." And so it is that when the Duluth-born Bobby D, at the age of 71, releases a new album, the evaluation should give the most weight to the poetry. We already know he can't sing worth a hoot.
Not to belabor the point, but this truth was brought home when I played the first track, Duquesne Whistle. It had been awhile since I'd listened to Dylan, so his raspiness kind of jolted me as he started to sing after a fifty-three second instrumental intro. I quickly adjusted. It turns out that Duquesne Whistle is one of the highlights of the ten song album, and for my money contains the best musicianship. The snare drums of George G. Receli definitely remind the listener of the clickety-clack you'd hear on a train. The whistle brings back memories, both good and bad, for the singer as the southbound train gets him closer to his home town.
Most of the songs occupying the middle of the album are dark, and all of them are mysterious. In Soon After Midnight, among the slowest tempos of the ten selections, he appears to be apologizing to a woman he wants to return to after disappointing flings with others. A similar tone is struck with Long And Wasted Years, where once again he is heard apologizing. In Scarlet Town the singer describes where he was born, switching between praise and damnation. Which is it? Pay In Blood is another song which, even after several listenings, is subject to a wide spectrum of interpretations. Is the singer sentenced to hard labor in a prison, or is he calling out the dishonest politicians and their graft?
The last three songs of the album will probably generate the most discussion among Dylan aficionados. Tin Angel is a thumping nine minute slow story about a king who gathers an army to go after his unfaithful wife who has been whisked away by a rival chieftain. The trick to understanding this song is to read the lyrics while listening, because the quotation marks on the lyric sheet enable the listener to figure out which of three characters is speaking. It is my favorite song on the menu, one that conjures up vivid pictures in my imagination. The title track, Tempest, is a fourteen minute ballad telling a partly fictionalized account of the Titanic tragedy. The song has an Irish folk vibe, which is appropriate since the last port of call on the voyage was Cobh (fka Queenstown), Ireland. The album closes with Roll On John, a tribute to the fallen Beatle, John Lennon, who was, in a lot of ways, the English Bob Dylan.
Even though the album is dark and moody, Dylan does have some fun with a handful of lyrics, including "Shake it up baby, twist and shout" from Long And Wasted Years, "Little boy blue come blow your horn" from Scarlet Town, and "I heard the news today, oh boy" from Roll On John.
I predict Tempest will go down as one of the best Dylan albums of the twenty-first century, yet I'm not sure it's deserving of a grade higher than B+. The poetry is outstanding, but the randomness of the lyrics and the simpleness and sameness of the melodies are the counter-balancing aspects that I can't overlook.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Movie Review: "To Rome With Love"
"To Rome With Love": B. I usually prefer Woody Allen movies in which he does not appear as an actor (e.g., Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) and Midnight In Paris (2011)), but relegates himself to directing only. However, I decided to take a chance on To Rome With Love for two reasons. First, Momma Cuandito and I will be in the Eternal City next week. Second, Woody only plays a supporting role in this picture, although as the script writer he does manage to reserve some of the best one-liners for his own character, Jerry.
Jerry and his wife Phyllis (Judy Davis) are the parents of a twenty-something year old daughter, Hayley (Alison Pil), who meets Michelangelo (Flavio Parenti, a native of Rome) when she asks him for directions to the Trevi Fountain. By the time they reach their destination on foot, they have become an item. They are but one of four twosomes whose stories are rotated in and out throughout this entertaining movie.
We also have Jack (Jesse Eisenberg) and Sally (Greta Gerwig), an engaged American couple living together in Trastevere, the Greenwich Village of Rome. Things get complicated in ways you might expect when Sally invites her friend Monica (Ellen Page) to stay with them for awhile. Before Monica's arrival, Sally describes her friend to Jack as someone who exudes a sexual vibe, yet Sally thinks nothing of leaving the two of them alone. Alec Baldwin shows up on a regular basis as a detached third party who functions as Jack's conscience. Sometimes it seems only Jack can see and hear him, but in other scenes Monica converses with him as well.
Then there's a newly married couple, Antonio (Alessandro Tiberi) and Milly (Allesandra Mastronardi), two country kids who've decided to make their way to the big city. Milly is nervous about meeting her man's parents for the first time, and scoots off from their hotel room to find a hair salon. In between the time Milly leaves the hotel and the arrival of the parents, a hooker, Anna (the voluptuous Penelope Cruz), arrives at the room, offering her pre-paid services to Antonio. It seems Antonio's friends have made the arrangements. Of course before he can get rid of her, his relatives show up, so he has to pretend that Anna is Milly. The fact that Anna's dress is short, low-cut, and appears to have been painted on her makes the pretense a hard sell. Meanwhile, the real Milly is having her own over-the-top adventure on her way to the salon.
Finally there is Leopoldo (the ever funny Roberto Benigni), a married father of two little kids. He is a middle aged office worker who, for reasons unexplained to himself and the viewers, becomes an overnight celebrity. He is dogged by the paparazzi and scandal mongers who follow him wherever he goes. The instant fame is fun at first, but soon he longs for the days when he was a mere functionary.
Some mini-stories are better than others, but director Allen does not dwell with any one of them for long before hopping off to the next. Some dialogue is spoken in English, with periodic Italian accompanied by subtitles, which I did not mind at all. Woody's character reminded me of Alvy Singer, the role Allen played in his 1977 film, Annie Hall. He is neurotic in a funny way, but begrudgingly relies on his stable wife to keep him in check. He does not hit it off with his daughter's new boyfriend, and is too persistent in coaxing the boyfriend's father to pursue a career as an opera singer. By the way, the actor cast in the role of the singing father is Fabio Armiliato, an internationally famous tenor. The few scenes including him are among the movie's best.
This film was shot entirely in Rome, although it could have taken place almost anywhere. I am not rating it as highly as Vicky Christina or Midnight, but I can now understand why it lasted so long in the first run theaters. If you are not a Woody Allen fan, this movie just might convert you.
Jerry and his wife Phyllis (Judy Davis) are the parents of a twenty-something year old daughter, Hayley (Alison Pil), who meets Michelangelo (Flavio Parenti, a native of Rome) when she asks him for directions to the Trevi Fountain. By the time they reach their destination on foot, they have become an item. They are but one of four twosomes whose stories are rotated in and out throughout this entertaining movie.
We also have Jack (Jesse Eisenberg) and Sally (Greta Gerwig), an engaged American couple living together in Trastevere, the Greenwich Village of Rome. Things get complicated in ways you might expect when Sally invites her friend Monica (Ellen Page) to stay with them for awhile. Before Monica's arrival, Sally describes her friend to Jack as someone who exudes a sexual vibe, yet Sally thinks nothing of leaving the two of them alone. Alec Baldwin shows up on a regular basis as a detached third party who functions as Jack's conscience. Sometimes it seems only Jack can see and hear him, but in other scenes Monica converses with him as well.
Then there's a newly married couple, Antonio (Alessandro Tiberi) and Milly (Allesandra Mastronardi), two country kids who've decided to make their way to the big city. Milly is nervous about meeting her man's parents for the first time, and scoots off from their hotel room to find a hair salon. In between the time Milly leaves the hotel and the arrival of the parents, a hooker, Anna (the voluptuous Penelope Cruz), arrives at the room, offering her pre-paid services to Antonio. It seems Antonio's friends have made the arrangements. Of course before he can get rid of her, his relatives show up, so he has to pretend that Anna is Milly. The fact that Anna's dress is short, low-cut, and appears to have been painted on her makes the pretense a hard sell. Meanwhile, the real Milly is having her own over-the-top adventure on her way to the salon.
Finally there is Leopoldo (the ever funny Roberto Benigni), a married father of two little kids. He is a middle aged office worker who, for reasons unexplained to himself and the viewers, becomes an overnight celebrity. He is dogged by the paparazzi and scandal mongers who follow him wherever he goes. The instant fame is fun at first, but soon he longs for the days when he was a mere functionary.
Some mini-stories are better than others, but director Allen does not dwell with any one of them for long before hopping off to the next. Some dialogue is spoken in English, with periodic Italian accompanied by subtitles, which I did not mind at all. Woody's character reminded me of Alvy Singer, the role Allen played in his 1977 film, Annie Hall. He is neurotic in a funny way, but begrudgingly relies on his stable wife to keep him in check. He does not hit it off with his daughter's new boyfriend, and is too persistent in coaxing the boyfriend's father to pursue a career as an opera singer. By the way, the actor cast in the role of the singing father is Fabio Armiliato, an internationally famous tenor. The few scenes including him are among the movie's best.
This film was shot entirely in Rome, although it could have taken place almost anywhere. I am not rating it as highly as Vicky Christina or Midnight, but I can now understand why it lasted so long in the first run theaters. If you are not a Woody Allen fan, this movie just might convert you.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Quarterly Cinema Scan - Volume IX
Here are the movies I've watched on the boob tube during the third quarter of 2012. I know Citizen Kane has been at the top of a number of Best Movie lists, but I can't jump on board that train. The two movies below which I've graded "A" (Bonnie & Clyde and The Sting) I have seen before, and still found them worthy, whereas Dark Passage and The Great Escape did not quite strike me as being as good as I recall from viewings long ago.
1. Bonnie & Clyde (1967 drama; Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway go on a bank robbing crime spree in the 1930s, becoming folk heroes even though they are murderers) A
2. Citizen Kane (1941 drama; Orson Welles is a multi-millionaire narcissist who owns an empire of newspapers) B
3. Dark Passage (1947 drama; Convicted killer Humphrey Bogart escapes from San Quentin, evades the cops with Lauren Bacall's help, undergoes facial plastic surgery, and works to find the real killer) B-
4. The Days Of Wine And Roses (1962 drama; Jack Lemon and Lee Remick can't lay off the booze, and that spells trouble) A-
5. The Great Escape (1963 war drama; Richard Attenborough masterminds an escape plan for dozens of Allied prisoners, including Steve McQueen and James Garner, from a POW camp in Germany) B
6. Lolita (1962 drama; college professor James Mason can't take his eyes off Sue Lyon, the daughter of his landlady, Shelly Winters) B-
7. The Magnificent Seven (1960 western; besieged Mexican villagers hire Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen and five other gunmen to help them thwart the band of cutthroat marauders led by Eli Wallach) B
8. The Sting (1973 drama; Paul Newman and Robert Redford, two con artists extraordinaire, seek to avenge the loss of a good friend by pulling The Big Con on the gangster who killed him, Robert Blake) A
9. The Thomas Crown Affair (1968 drama; insurance investigator Faye Dunaway figures out that Steve McQueen is the head of a gang that stole $4 million in a bank heist, but will she let her heart get in the way of doing her job?) B+
10. Three Coins In The Fountain (1954 drama; Dorothy McGuire, Jean Peters and Maggie McNamara are three secretaries working in Rome who have their hearts set on author Clifton Webb, prince Louis Jourdan and translator Rossano Brazzi, respectively) C+
11. To Have And Have Not (1944 drama; Humphrey Bogart is a professional fisherman on the island of Martinique, pre World War II, who romances singer Lauren Bacall while simultaneously (and reluctantly) agreeing to help the French patriots outsmart the Nazis) A-
12. The White Cliffs Of Dover (1944 drama; American Irene Dunne travels to London, marries English nobleman Alan Marshal who goes off to fight in WW I, and gives birth to a son who ends up fighting in WW II) B
1. Bonnie & Clyde (1967 drama; Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway go on a bank robbing crime spree in the 1930s, becoming folk heroes even though they are murderers) A
2. Citizen Kane (1941 drama; Orson Welles is a multi-millionaire narcissist who owns an empire of newspapers) B
3. Dark Passage (1947 drama; Convicted killer Humphrey Bogart escapes from San Quentin, evades the cops with Lauren Bacall's help, undergoes facial plastic surgery, and works to find the real killer) B-
4. The Days Of Wine And Roses (1962 drama; Jack Lemon and Lee Remick can't lay off the booze, and that spells trouble) A-
5. The Great Escape (1963 war drama; Richard Attenborough masterminds an escape plan for dozens of Allied prisoners, including Steve McQueen and James Garner, from a POW camp in Germany) B
6. Lolita (1962 drama; college professor James Mason can't take his eyes off Sue Lyon, the daughter of his landlady, Shelly Winters) B-
7. The Magnificent Seven (1960 western; besieged Mexican villagers hire Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen and five other gunmen to help them thwart the band of cutthroat marauders led by Eli Wallach) B
8. The Sting (1973 drama; Paul Newman and Robert Redford, two con artists extraordinaire, seek to avenge the loss of a good friend by pulling The Big Con on the gangster who killed him, Robert Blake) A
9. The Thomas Crown Affair (1968 drama; insurance investigator Faye Dunaway figures out that Steve McQueen is the head of a gang that stole $4 million in a bank heist, but will she let her heart get in the way of doing her job?) B+
10. Three Coins In The Fountain (1954 drama; Dorothy McGuire, Jean Peters and Maggie McNamara are three secretaries working in Rome who have their hearts set on author Clifton Webb, prince Louis Jourdan and translator Rossano Brazzi, respectively) C+
11. To Have And Have Not (1944 drama; Humphrey Bogart is a professional fisherman on the island of Martinique, pre World War II, who romances singer Lauren Bacall while simultaneously (and reluctantly) agreeing to help the French patriots outsmart the Nazis) A-
12. The White Cliffs Of Dover (1944 drama; American Irene Dunne travels to London, marries English nobleman Alan Marshal who goes off to fight in WW I, and gives birth to a son who ends up fighting in WW II) B
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Movie Review: "Trouble With The Curve"
"Trouble With The Curve": B-. The last two movies I saw starring Clint Eastwood were Million Dollar Baby and Gran Torino. In the former he plays a crotchety old boxing manager. In the latter he plays a crotchety old war veteran. In his new movie, Trouble With The Curve, which made its Twin Cities debut yesterday, Eastwood plays a crotchety old professional baseball scout, Gus Lobel. In real life, Eastwood is 82 years old. If he were actually a baseball scout instead of an actor, I'd guess he would be almost an exact replica of Gus. It makes one ponder this question: If you are playing a character who is more or less yourself, is it really acting? Eastwood has been around Hollywood long enough to have earned the right to play whatever characters he wants. Judging by his last three movies, he chooses to play Clint Eastwood.
Gus is an old school scout for the Atlanta Braves. There are only three months left to go until his employment contract expires, but he has no intention of retiring. Baseball is his life. His territory includes Georgia and the Carolinas. He doesn't believe scouting a player by researching voluminous statistical data on a computer can take the place of seeing a prospect in person. One of the other Braves' scouts, a younger know-it-all named Phillip (Matthew Lillard), scoffs at Gus' obsolete methods. Truth be told, Gus probably would not even know how to turn on a computer. Instead, he drives himself to amateur games in his rusted out car, and relies on the sounds of the ball hitting the mitt or the bat to determine a prospect's worth. His auditory senses are acute to compensate for his rapidly failing eyesight.
There is a fair share of baseball in Trouble With The Curve, but this is really more of a father-daughter movie. Gus' 33 year old daughter, Mickey (Amy Adams), is a senior associate with a large Atlanta law firm. Mickey is named after Yankee Hall Of Famer Mickey Mantle, Gus' favorite player. She is up for partnership, but must first win the proverbial big case before the firm's partnership committee, a small group of middle-aged white guys, makes the decision whether to promote her or a male colleague, Neil (Clifton Guterman). Just as Mickey is in the throes of preparing for a huge presentation to an important client, she gets a visit from the Braves' scouting director, Pete Klein (the always solid John Goodman). Pete is Gus' boss in the team's chain of command, but moreso he is Gus' personal friend going back over thirty years. He has known Mickey forever. He tells Mickey that the Braves have the second pick in the upcoming draft and they are real interested in a kid named Bo Gentry who is playing amateur ball in North Carolina. Gus' job will be on the line if he makes the wrong recommendation on whether to pick Gentry. Pete suggests to Mickey that, because of Gus' macular degeneration, she should go to North Carolina to help her father scout Gentry. Mickey rejects Pete's entreaty, but as we know from the trailers we have seen, she changes her mind and surprises her father at the Carolina field. Her prospects for partnership are now in jeopardy. She has prioritized her father's situation over her professional obligations, although she assures her firm's partners that she won't let them down.
While they are in North Carolina Mickey tries a few times to have a heart-to-heart talk with her dad, but he always cuts it short. She wants to get some answers from her father about how he raised her and some decisions he made following her mother's death when Mickey was six years old. Gus does not want Mickey there in the first place, even though she knows as much about baseball as anybody, thanks to Gus. He certainly isn't interested in digging up the past. Meanwhile, a young scout named Johnny (Justin Timberlake) arrives on the scene to take a look at Gentry. Johnny is a former pitcher originally signed by Gus for the Braves several years before. Johnny developed arm trouble and eventually was traded to the Red Sox over Gus' objections. Johnny's career was cut short due to that injury, and now he is a Red Sox scout. Would you believe he is just about Mickey's age?
Will Gus make the right decision about whether to draft Gentry? Will Mickey get the answers she is seeking from her father? Will Johnny and Mickey end up as more than new friends who like to challenge each other with baseball trivia? Will Mickey make partner?
Trouble With The Curve is too cheesy and predictable to be considered a top notch baseball flick. Bull Durham is far and away the gold standard for that genre. The best parts of Trouble are the one line expletives uttered by Gus and his beyond-hope style of housekeeping, which includes stacks of sports pages all over his house and his inability to do something as simple as flipping a burger over the stove or backing his beater out of his garage. Amy Adams is miscast as Mickey. I might be able to see her as a big firm lawyer, but she doesn't have a tomboy bone in her body, a characteristic called for in the role. The characters of Neil (her fellow senior associate), Phillip (the know-it-all scout) and Bo Gentry (the hot amateur prospect) are one-dimensional horses' asses. The other guys on Gentry's team look like they should be playing chess instead of baseball. Pee-wee Herman must have been unavailable when the casting call went out.
Near the end of the movie there is a scene involving a pitcher's mound which just happens to be situated on the lawn next to the Carolina motel where Mickey is staying. How many motels have you stayed in where the accoutrements included a pitcher's mound? In order for the movie to have its over-the-top contrived happy ending, with nary a loose end, the motel pitcher's mound was necessary. I am surprised the story did not end with the Braves winning the World Series.
Gus is an old school scout for the Atlanta Braves. There are only three months left to go until his employment contract expires, but he has no intention of retiring. Baseball is his life. His territory includes Georgia and the Carolinas. He doesn't believe scouting a player by researching voluminous statistical data on a computer can take the place of seeing a prospect in person. One of the other Braves' scouts, a younger know-it-all named Phillip (Matthew Lillard), scoffs at Gus' obsolete methods. Truth be told, Gus probably would not even know how to turn on a computer. Instead, he drives himself to amateur games in his rusted out car, and relies on the sounds of the ball hitting the mitt or the bat to determine a prospect's worth. His auditory senses are acute to compensate for his rapidly failing eyesight.
There is a fair share of baseball in Trouble With The Curve, but this is really more of a father-daughter movie. Gus' 33 year old daughter, Mickey (Amy Adams), is a senior associate with a large Atlanta law firm. Mickey is named after Yankee Hall Of Famer Mickey Mantle, Gus' favorite player. She is up for partnership, but must first win the proverbial big case before the firm's partnership committee, a small group of middle-aged white guys, makes the decision whether to promote her or a male colleague, Neil (Clifton Guterman). Just as Mickey is in the throes of preparing for a huge presentation to an important client, she gets a visit from the Braves' scouting director, Pete Klein (the always solid John Goodman). Pete is Gus' boss in the team's chain of command, but moreso he is Gus' personal friend going back over thirty years. He has known Mickey forever. He tells Mickey that the Braves have the second pick in the upcoming draft and they are real interested in a kid named Bo Gentry who is playing amateur ball in North Carolina. Gus' job will be on the line if he makes the wrong recommendation on whether to pick Gentry. Pete suggests to Mickey that, because of Gus' macular degeneration, she should go to North Carolina to help her father scout Gentry. Mickey rejects Pete's entreaty, but as we know from the trailers we have seen, she changes her mind and surprises her father at the Carolina field. Her prospects for partnership are now in jeopardy. She has prioritized her father's situation over her professional obligations, although she assures her firm's partners that she won't let them down.
While they are in North Carolina Mickey tries a few times to have a heart-to-heart talk with her dad, but he always cuts it short. She wants to get some answers from her father about how he raised her and some decisions he made following her mother's death when Mickey was six years old. Gus does not want Mickey there in the first place, even though she knows as much about baseball as anybody, thanks to Gus. He certainly isn't interested in digging up the past. Meanwhile, a young scout named Johnny (Justin Timberlake) arrives on the scene to take a look at Gentry. Johnny is a former pitcher originally signed by Gus for the Braves several years before. Johnny developed arm trouble and eventually was traded to the Red Sox over Gus' objections. Johnny's career was cut short due to that injury, and now he is a Red Sox scout. Would you believe he is just about Mickey's age?
Will Gus make the right decision about whether to draft Gentry? Will Mickey get the answers she is seeking from her father? Will Johnny and Mickey end up as more than new friends who like to challenge each other with baseball trivia? Will Mickey make partner?
Trouble With The Curve is too cheesy and predictable to be considered a top notch baseball flick. Bull Durham is far and away the gold standard for that genre. The best parts of Trouble are the one line expletives uttered by Gus and his beyond-hope style of housekeeping, which includes stacks of sports pages all over his house and his inability to do something as simple as flipping a burger over the stove or backing his beater out of his garage. Amy Adams is miscast as Mickey. I might be able to see her as a big firm lawyer, but she doesn't have a tomboy bone in her body, a characteristic called for in the role. The characters of Neil (her fellow senior associate), Phillip (the know-it-all scout) and Bo Gentry (the hot amateur prospect) are one-dimensional horses' asses. The other guys on Gentry's team look like they should be playing chess instead of baseball. Pee-wee Herman must have been unavailable when the casting call went out.
Near the end of the movie there is a scene involving a pitcher's mound which just happens to be situated on the lawn next to the Carolina motel where Mickey is staying. How many motels have you stayed in where the accoutrements included a pitcher's mound? In order for the movie to have its over-the-top contrived happy ending, with nary a loose end, the motel pitcher's mound was necessary. I am surprised the story did not end with the Braves winning the World Series.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Movie Review: "Arbitrage"
"Arbitrage": A-. Abraham Lincoln is credited with making the observation that you can't fool all of the people all of the time. Richard Gere plays investment firm founder and CEO Robert Miller, who apparently never studied Honest Abe in a history class. Miller has lots of secrets that are eating away at him, but he has boxed himself into a corner and the only way to get out of the box is a strategy of playing it cool, and of course telling lie upon lie to keep each secret a secret. He has a mistress, Julie (French actress Laetitia Costa), whom he's hiding from his wife (Susan Sarandon). He has ordered the head of his accounting department to falsify a multi-million dollar transaction, and must keep that secret from the Chief Financial Officer, Brooke (Brit Marling), who happens to be Miller's daughter, and from the tycoon who is negotiating to buy one of Miller's businesses. He is being pressed for the repayment of $400 million which an impatient business acquaintance has loaned him "off the record," but he can't come up with the money until the sale to the tycoon is closed. Julie is pressing him to ditch his wife, as he has been promising to do for years. On the outside Miller is Mister Cool, but the inner turmoil is raging.
All of those problems pale in comparison to what happens when he becomes a prime suspect in the death of one of the aforementioned characters. The events surrounding the death bring two more interesting characters into play. Jimmy (Nate Parker) is a young ex-con whose father was Miller's personal chauffeur for many years. When the father died, Miller made sure the dead man's family, including Jimmy, was provided for. Thus, Jimmy owes Miller big time, and feels obligated to help when Miller needs Jimmy's assistance in leaving the death scene. How could Jimmy say no, even though if the cops find out he'll most likely return to prison? Speaking of cops, Tim Roth plays Detective Bryer, who fingers Miller for the crime but bides his time building a case against him.
There is not much to like about Robert Miller, but director Nicholas Jarecki unveils the story in a way that gets the audience involuntarily pulling for Miller anyway. Gere is credible in the role, dashing and debonaire like a Wall Street honcho should be, but with a simultaneous sleaziness that must be part of his core to be up to his chin in this kind of marital, financial and legal trouble. I loved Tim Roth as the detective. He asks all the right questions of all the right people, knowing when to press and when to back off. Has Miller met his match in Detective Bryer?
This was a fast-paced 100 minutes, with no extraneous scenes and a plot that fairly well holds up to logic. Almost everything Miller says and does is what you'd expect from a man with his problems and character flaws. The same is true for his wife, his daughter, Jimmy, and the other people with whom Miller interacts. For example, the dialogue between father and daughter after she finds out the books have been cooked is extremely well written and performed. Likewise for the dialogue between Detective Bryer and Jimmy, who is torn between maintaining loyalty to Miller and the prospect of returning to prison as an accomplice after-the-fact. Bryer dangles the likelihood of a ten year prison term over Jimmy's head.
Arbitrage, in financial terms, occurs when an investor buys a commodity in one market (say, the US) and immediately sells it in another market (say, China), keeping the difference in the values of the related currencies as his profit. In Arbitrage, there is no actual arbitrage occurring, but the term is nevertheless a good metaphor for Miller's methods. He is, in a sense, buying time and hoping to cash it in for a better life in the future. But as he buys his time he runs into more problems, all of them through his own doing. If only he'd realized that the life he could have led without the lies, the fraud and the deception would have still been pretty sweet.
All of those problems pale in comparison to what happens when he becomes a prime suspect in the death of one of the aforementioned characters. The events surrounding the death bring two more interesting characters into play. Jimmy (Nate Parker) is a young ex-con whose father was Miller's personal chauffeur for many years. When the father died, Miller made sure the dead man's family, including Jimmy, was provided for. Thus, Jimmy owes Miller big time, and feels obligated to help when Miller needs Jimmy's assistance in leaving the death scene. How could Jimmy say no, even though if the cops find out he'll most likely return to prison? Speaking of cops, Tim Roth plays Detective Bryer, who fingers Miller for the crime but bides his time building a case against him.
There is not much to like about Robert Miller, but director Nicholas Jarecki unveils the story in a way that gets the audience involuntarily pulling for Miller anyway. Gere is credible in the role, dashing and debonaire like a Wall Street honcho should be, but with a simultaneous sleaziness that must be part of his core to be up to his chin in this kind of marital, financial and legal trouble. I loved Tim Roth as the detective. He asks all the right questions of all the right people, knowing when to press and when to back off. Has Miller met his match in Detective Bryer?
This was a fast-paced 100 minutes, with no extraneous scenes and a plot that fairly well holds up to logic. Almost everything Miller says and does is what you'd expect from a man with his problems and character flaws. The same is true for his wife, his daughter, Jimmy, and the other people with whom Miller interacts. For example, the dialogue between father and daughter after she finds out the books have been cooked is extremely well written and performed. Likewise for the dialogue between Detective Bryer and Jimmy, who is torn between maintaining loyalty to Miller and the prospect of returning to prison as an accomplice after-the-fact. Bryer dangles the likelihood of a ten year prison term over Jimmy's head.
Arbitrage, in financial terms, occurs when an investor buys a commodity in one market (say, the US) and immediately sells it in another market (say, China), keeping the difference in the values of the related currencies as his profit. In Arbitrage, there is no actual arbitrage occurring, but the term is nevertheless a good metaphor for Miller's methods. He is, in a sense, buying time and hoping to cash it in for a better life in the future. But as he buys his time he runs into more problems, all of them through his own doing. If only he'd realized that the life he could have led without the lies, the fraud and the deception would have still been pretty sweet.
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