"Words And Pictures": B. Unlike many romantic comedies, the lead players in Words And Pictures
do not "meet cute." He, Jack Marcus (Clive Owen), is a
too-sure-of-himself honors English teacher at Croyden Prep School, a
high falutin' institution where the students wear uniforms and address
their teachers as peers. The principal's office would make most Fortune
500 execs proud, and the one board member we meet (Amy Brenneman) looks
like she came straight from the Lafayette Club. Marcus' cockiness is
not limited to the classroom. It carries over into the faculty break
room, where not all of his colleagues warm to his loud monopolization of
the conversation. He is sharp enough to sense this, which makes him
continue the conduct even longer.
She, renown artist Dina Delsanto (Juliette Binoche), is a
veteran honors art teacher who is new to Croyden. As she informs her
students on her very first day, she is not there to acquire their
friendship or become anyone's confidant. Her sole role is to instruct.
She demands a lot from her students, and none of the prep schoolers
object; they are serious scholars with Ivy League college ambitions.
Delsanto's strictly business persona applies equally
to her faculty relationships. It takes Marcus less than a minute to
figure that out when Delsanto enters the faculty lounge for the first
time. He tries to engage her in his pet word game, but she will have
none of it. She tells him point blank that she expects to be able to
lounge when she's in the lounge, without being inconvenienced or annoyed
by small talk. He does not back off -- ever -- during the entire
story.
We know from the trailers, if not the title and
movie posters, that a philosophical debate over the relative merits of
language compared to art is a key element to the plot. Before deciding to see
this movie, I had my doubts as to how convincing any script purporting
to stage such a contest involving an entire high school's student body
could be. Director Fred Schipisi and writer Gerald Di Pego proved me
wrong. Marcus and Delsanto are so passionate about their fields, so
dynamic in their classrooms, and so good coaching and inspiring their
charges that when dozens of teenagers are wrapped up in the discussion,
it does not come off as phony. The kids' general enthusiasm struck me
as real. Part of their enthusiasm is provoked by Marcus and
Delsanto. He tells his students, "Words are your gods." She counters
with, "Words are traps."
Of course this wouldn't be a rom-com if there were
no spark between the "warring" adults. Owen gets the benefit of having
the more dynamic character with the better lines. His wit, humor and
charm are endearing to a point, but all are counterbalanced by his
alcoholism (which we witness early on) and by a surprise ethical lapse
which turns the story on its ear. As for Binoche, well, she is simply
one of my favorite actresses. I have seen many movies in which the
chemistry between the two lead actors was more palpable, but any viewer
of Words And Pictures would surely recognize that he was watching two accomplished masters of the silver screen.
In addition to the battles of the sexes and the subjects, there are a
few side stories interspersed throughout the film. Some are more
successfully told than others. For example, many minutes are devoted to
the bullying and harrassment of one of the female students, Emily
(Valerie Tian), by a male classmate. This element's main purpose, I
believe, is to furnish an opportunity for the usually bickering Marcus
and Delsanto to join forces. While there is no denying that bullying is
one of the hottest (and most offensive) issues confronting youngsters
today, the film's depiction of the related episodes, as well as the resolution,
are poorly done. On the other hand, the scenes involving Marcus and his
college age son, Tony (Christian Scheider), are extremely well written
and acted. Scheider is excellent as a young man who loves his father,
notwithstanding the latter's worsening alcoholism, while at the same
time being careful to protect his own space from intrusion and
embarrassment at the hands of his father.
This movie has been playing in a first-run theater,
the Edina, for almost two months. The matinee I attended over the
weekend was fairly well attended. Apparently there are a lot of folks
who enjoy rom-coms featuring two fine actors playing very smart
characters with sometimes witty and usually clever dialogue.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Friday, July 11, 2014
Quarterly Cinema Scan - Volume XVI
Last month it became painfully obvious that writing movie reviews on a
blog does not qualify me as a member of filmdom's cognoscenti. If I
were, I undoubtedly would have loved, or at least pretended that I loved, Louis Malle's bold filmmaking experiment, My Dinner With Andre.
The late film critic, Roger Ebert, called it the best movie of 1981,
and the only film he could think of which was "completely devoid of
cliches."
The one hundred ten minute movie begins and ends using a first person narrative from the perspective of Broadway playwright and actor Wallace Shawn. He explains to the viewers that he is headed to a New York City restaurant to dine with a former colleague and friend, theater director Andre Gregory. Wally has heard, via the grapevine, some disturbing news about Andre's allegedly strange recent behavior. Wally has not seen Andre in years, so he is curious to see for himself if what he's heard is true.
Once Andre shows up, the two men are quickly seated, and for the next ninety minutes we are "treated" to listening in as they discuss things as deep as the meaning of life, as well as the worth of experimental theater and Andre's exploits as a world traveler and philosopher. Wally seems truly enraptured by Andre's monologues. (I hesitate to describe the dinner as a "dialogue" since Andre does 80% or more of the talking.) But, I'm sorry to report, I was bored to tears. I must have checked the TV clock to see how much time was left every five minutes. It kind of reminded me of the Minnesota Twins post-game show on FSN, when host Anthony LaPanta asks Roy Smalley a simple question, and Roy prattles on without coming up for air.
When he introduced the film on Turner Classic Movies, Anthony Bourdain, famous for hosting CNN's travel and food program Parts Unknown, cautioned that Malle's film "may not be for everyone." I can't say I wasn't warned. Consider this post your warning.
1. The Basketball Diaries (1995 drama; Leonardo DiCaprio is a student and basketball player at a Manhattan Catholic boys high school, and rebels against the system by experimenting with, and becoming addicted to, hard drugs.) B
2. Key Largo (1948 drama; Edward G. Robinson leads a pack of gangsters who hold war hero Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall hostage inside a hurricane-battered hotel owned by Lionel Barrymore.) B+
3. A Man For All Seasons (1966 historical drama; Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield), an English nobleman and Lord Chancellor, refuses to bless or condone the divorce and proposed new marriage of King Henry VIII (Robert Shaw), whereupon Thomas Cromwell (Leo McKern), the king's chief minister, uses his position and influence to have More tried for treason.) B+
4. The Misfits. (1961 drama; newly divorced Marilyn Monroe pals around with Clark Gable and Eli Wallach, both of whom fall for her in the sticks of Nevada, while she befriends rodeo rider Montgomery Clift.) C
5. My Dinner With Andre (1981 dialogue; Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory have a ninety minute conversation over dinner in a New York City restaurant, weighing in on such topics as the health of the theater and whether one should feel guilty over enjoying simple pleasures such as drinking coffee or reading.) C-
6. Stagecoach (1939 western; John Wayne is an outlaw who gets picked up on the Arizona desert by a stagecoach full of tenderfoots with a sheriff riding shotgun, all of whom are heading for Apache territory.) B+
7. Winchester '73 (1950 western; Jimmy Stewart is a sharpshooter who comes to the aid of the US Cavalry preparing for an Indian shootout, and then goes looking for the varmint who stole the prized rifle Jimmy won back in Dodge City.) B
8. Witness For The Prosecution (1957 courtroom drama; Charles Laughton is a London barrister who, against his cardiologist's directives, defends Tyrone Power in a capital murder case.) A
The one hundred ten minute movie begins and ends using a first person narrative from the perspective of Broadway playwright and actor Wallace Shawn. He explains to the viewers that he is headed to a New York City restaurant to dine with a former colleague and friend, theater director Andre Gregory. Wally has heard, via the grapevine, some disturbing news about Andre's allegedly strange recent behavior. Wally has not seen Andre in years, so he is curious to see for himself if what he's heard is true.
Once Andre shows up, the two men are quickly seated, and for the next ninety minutes we are "treated" to listening in as they discuss things as deep as the meaning of life, as well as the worth of experimental theater and Andre's exploits as a world traveler and philosopher. Wally seems truly enraptured by Andre's monologues. (I hesitate to describe the dinner as a "dialogue" since Andre does 80% or more of the talking.) But, I'm sorry to report, I was bored to tears. I must have checked the TV clock to see how much time was left every five minutes. It kind of reminded me of the Minnesota Twins post-game show on FSN, when host Anthony LaPanta asks Roy Smalley a simple question, and Roy prattles on without coming up for air.
When he introduced the film on Turner Classic Movies, Anthony Bourdain, famous for hosting CNN's travel and food program Parts Unknown, cautioned that Malle's film "may not be for everyone." I can't say I wasn't warned. Consider this post your warning.
1. The Basketball Diaries (1995 drama; Leonardo DiCaprio is a student and basketball player at a Manhattan Catholic boys high school, and rebels against the system by experimenting with, and becoming addicted to, hard drugs.) B
2. Key Largo (1948 drama; Edward G. Robinson leads a pack of gangsters who hold war hero Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall hostage inside a hurricane-battered hotel owned by Lionel Barrymore.) B+
3. A Man For All Seasons (1966 historical drama; Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield), an English nobleman and Lord Chancellor, refuses to bless or condone the divorce and proposed new marriage of King Henry VIII (Robert Shaw), whereupon Thomas Cromwell (Leo McKern), the king's chief minister, uses his position and influence to have More tried for treason.) B+
4. The Misfits. (1961 drama; newly divorced Marilyn Monroe pals around with Clark Gable and Eli Wallach, both of whom fall for her in the sticks of Nevada, while she befriends rodeo rider Montgomery Clift.) C
5. My Dinner With Andre (1981 dialogue; Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory have a ninety minute conversation over dinner in a New York City restaurant, weighing in on such topics as the health of the theater and whether one should feel guilty over enjoying simple pleasures such as drinking coffee or reading.) C-
6. Stagecoach (1939 western; John Wayne is an outlaw who gets picked up on the Arizona desert by a stagecoach full of tenderfoots with a sheriff riding shotgun, all of whom are heading for Apache territory.) B+
7. Winchester '73 (1950 western; Jimmy Stewart is a sharpshooter who comes to the aid of the US Cavalry preparing for an Indian shootout, and then goes looking for the varmint who stole the prized rifle Jimmy won back in Dodge City.) B
8. Witness For The Prosecution (1957 courtroom drama; Charles Laughton is a London barrister who, against his cardiologist's directives, defends Tyrone Power in a capital murder case.) A
Monday, June 30, 2014
Album Review: "Ghost Stories" - Coldplay
"Ghost Stories": B+. Coldplay front man Chris Martin married movie actress Gwenyth Paltrow in
December 2002. Other than Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge,
Kate Middleton, Martin and Paltrow have spent most of the last several
years as England's most famous couple. Therefore, when they mutually
announced their separation last March, using the euphemism "conscious
uncoupling," people who follow celebs were caught off guard. Coldplay
released Ghost Stories, their sixth studio album, less than three
months later. The album is comprised of songs which obviously were
inspired by the power pair's breakup. Unlike some song compilations
which are labeled as "concept albums" (a structure which I discussed in
my March 28, 2012 review of Bruce Springsteen's Wrecking Ball), here there is no quarrel over what the common thread is among the tracks. Ghost Stories is very personal, from the perspective of one whose world has drastically change by the parting of his mate.
The album's title, Ghost Stories, is clever, because almost all of the songs are addressed in the second person, as if that person was there listening. Yet, that person is not there, just as one might feel or be aware of the presence of a ghost, even though the tangible entity is not there. The lead track, Always In My Head, is a good example of how this works. The singer's woman has vamoosed, but he tells her, anyway, that he can't stop thinking of her. He lives his life going through the motions, but his heart is fixed on his ex:
The album's title, Ghost Stories, is clever, because almost all of the songs are addressed in the second person, as if that person was there listening. Yet, that person is not there, just as one might feel or be aware of the presence of a ghost, even though the tangible entity is not there. The lead track, Always In My Head, is a good example of how this works. The singer's woman has vamoosed, but he tells her, anyway, that he can't stop thinking of her. He lives his life going through the motions, but his heart is fixed on his ex:
My body moves,
Goes where I will,
But though I try
My heart stays still.
The inability of the singer to focus on something or someone else is examined in A Sky Full Of Stars, which has been called the "magnum opus" of Ghost Stories (just as the title track from the band's 2008 album, Viva la Vida,
was) and is the song Coldplay sang on various television network
appearances to promote the album. Even looking at the night sky, the
singer thinks he sees his former significant other, as in a
constellation. A deeper interpretation -- and one which I favor -- has
been proposed by music commentator Philip Terry Graham, who points out
that the light of many stars we see from earth has taken a multitude of
years to reach us, and by the time it has traveled that unimaginable
distance the originating star may well have burned out. We think we are
seeing a star, but in the present time it may no longer be there. Such
a phenomenon is analogous to "seeing" a ghost.
What caused the couple to come apart? The best song on the album, True Love,
doesn't directly answer the question, but the singer does lament that
his S.O. kept her unhappiness with him a secret instead of engaging in
an honest heart-to-heart.
... I wish you could have let me know
What's really going on below.
Some of the prettiest vocals in True Love recall lines from A Tender Lie, a country song written by Randy Sharp and covered fabulously by Dolly Partin in 2001:
Tell me you love me,
If you don't, then lie,
Lie to me.
The song inviting the most discussion may be Another's Arms.
Is the singer accusing his lover of unfaithfulness? Or is the
reference to "another's arms" a hopeful statement that someday the
singer will find love again with someone else? Many of Martin's fans
are going with the former angle, claiming that Paltrow had a roving eye.
Try Googling "Kevin Yorn." Conversely, there are other songs on the album (besides Another's Arms) in which the singer, even though saddened by the recent romantic dissolution, is not giving up on love. Two examples follow.
In Fly On (the first part of the closing track titled O),
Martin sings that love is like a flock of birds. Even when they land,
they don't stay forever. But when they fly off you know that more birds
will arrive at some future point.
A flock of birds
Hovering above
Just a flock of birds,
That's how you think of love.
In Magic, one of the album's hit singles, the unhappy termination of the singer's love relationship has not soured him on love itself.
... if you were to ask me
After all that we've been through
"Still believe in magic?"
Yes, I do.
Yes, I do.
Ironically,
the title song of this album is not included on the core CD; instead it
is offered as one of the three bonus tracks available
exclusively through Target. (Well, okay, the song is titled Ghost Story as opposed to the plural form of the album title.) In every song but Ghost Story on the album, the ghost in question is presumed to be the singer's ex. In Ghost Story, it's clear the ghost is the male singer.
Maybe I'm just a ghost,
Disappear when anybody's close.
And again:
What's the point in feeling love for you
When you don't believe I'm here?
One of
the knocks on Coldplay is that too many of their songs sound the same.
It is a fair point although, assuming the lyrics cover different
ground, the sameness of some melodies does not materially detract from
my enjoyment of their offerings. (I wrote "materially" because the
overall pace of the record is a little too languid to suit me.) One
wonders, though, if the band is aware of the criticism. If so, they are
unconcerned, as evidenced by the placement of Magic and Ink, two tunes with similar percussion, back-to-back as the second and third tracks.
In my above-cited Wrecking Ball post I wrote
that "it is not unusual for [a concept] album, in its totality, to be
greater than the sum of its parts." The same applies to Ghost Stories.
The album tells a story in a manner which is very lyrical, mystic and
often beautiful. Individually, however, only two of the songs, True Love and A Sky Full Of Stars,
stand out and belong on a list of the cream of Coldplay's fourteen year
long catalogue. The other songs rely on their respective places within
the context of the album's concept.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Dillon Hall Diaries: Personal Prophecies And Yellow Caps
It is my understanding that Facebook members have Throwback Thursday
every week. I do not participate in Facebook, but I do post
occasionally on ND Nation, a discussion board for Notre Dame alums and
fans. Throwback Thursdays have not made an appearance on NDN. Instead,
we have Confession Fridays. If a poster feels guilty or embarrassed
about something personal, such as liking the Backstreet Boys or drinking
foo foo cocktails, he can get it off his chest by coming clean on
Fridays with a confessional post. He may get ridiculed or drilled with
some replies that are zingers -- his penance, you might call it -- but
he'll go forward with a clear conscience and a sense of relief.
Since today is Friday, I thought I might employ a similar approach for this post. I hereby confess that, over the years, I have continued to get a kick out of what could be labeled the "Personal Prophecy Game." Hopefully that does not make me a bad person, but if it does, so be it. No one is perfect, least of all me.
The Genesis: My first exposure to the Personal Prophecy Game was in the winter of my sophomore year at Notre Dame. Our basketball team had a road game against Michigan State on a weekend night, and five of us decided that the Irish needed our support in that hostile environment. There was no love lost between ND students and Michigan, only in those days it was the Spartans, not the Wolverines, that got our hackles up. So, we piled into a friend's car to make the round trip to East Lansing, a distance of approximately one hundred fifty miles from The Bend. As we were driving through Niles, Dowagiac or some other small burg in southwestern Michigan, we saw a bedraggled guy stumbling along the sidewalk with a bottle of cheap wine in his grasp. "Hey Sully," one of my companions called out to our friend riding shotgun, "that's you in five years!" Thus, the Personal Prophecy Game was born; group hilarity ensued.
Since that initial joke went over so well, we kept it up every time we spotted some down-on-his-luck, oddly dressed or erratically acting Michigander. Sometimes, in the interest of good sportsmanship, I suppose, the jokester would make himself the butt of the wisecrack by proclaiming, "That's me in five years," as he pointed out a clueless target.
That good natured (although certainly unchristian, not to mention juvenile) ribbing reoccurred all the way to the Michigan State campus. In our defense, it's important to point out that no one outside the confines of the car was aware of our Personal Prophecies. Of course, that didn't make it right, but we were quite pleased that we were able to entertain ourselves for the duration of what would otherwise have been an uneventful ride.
The Middle Stages: Notre Dame hosts a reunion weekend every year in early June. The classes that have graduated exactly five years, or a multiple of five years, prior to the reunion year are invited. The first one I attended was my twenty year reunion in 1989. The two most memorable things about that weekend were the beer tents stationed on the North Quad until 2:00 in the morning, and Lou Holtz making the rounds to talk to each of the ten or more classes which were separately assembled for their class dinners throughout campus. This was the year after Lou's football team had won the National Championship in just his third season at the helm. As Lou spoke he had all of us wrapped around his little finger, and believing that, finally, the gridiron glory days of Fighting Irish football were now permanently restored.
One reunion tradition is that members of the class celebrating its fiftieth year as alums are presented with yellow ND baseball caps. (Why they are not gold, to be consistent with the university's colors of blue and gold, is an unsolved mystery.) Thus, another recollection from that twenty year gathering was watching the fifty year guys, who (if my math is correct) graduated in 1939, donning their yellow caps. Although my classmates and I were in our early forties, far removed from our crazy college years, the fifty year gents seemed borderline ancient. We thought they certainly appeared to be much more than thirty years older than us.
Even at the second reunion I attended, which was ten years later in 1999, the guys in the yellow caps clearly bore little resemblance to us. They moved more slowly, had less hair, drank less beer, didn't seem that impassioned about the football team, and went to bed a whole lot earlier than my fellow '69ers. Many of them never even made an appearance at the beer tents!
Nearing The End: Earlier this month I attended my forty-fifth year ND reunion. Although many of my classmates have never missed any of our eight previous reunions, this year's gathering was only the third time for me. The fifty year "boys" and their spouses were lodged in the Morris Inn. (An aside: My two "wish list" items regarding campus visits are to stay in the Morris Inn and to watch a football game from the press box. To date, I have done neither.) The next oldest class, mine, was given the honor of being housed in the newest dorm, Ryan Hall, built in 2009. Ryan, which happens to be a women's dorm during the school year -- none of the twenty-nine residence halls at ND is coed -- bears little resemblance to the guys' dorms of yesteryear. Elevators, air conditioning, a beautiful lobby/sitting room, cushy hallway carpets, brightly lit and nicely tiled lavatories, wood paneling in the common areas; this place makes Dillon look like a quonset hut.
Since today is Friday, I thought I might employ a similar approach for this post. I hereby confess that, over the years, I have continued to get a kick out of what could be labeled the "Personal Prophecy Game." Hopefully that does not make me a bad person, but if it does, so be it. No one is perfect, least of all me.
The Genesis: My first exposure to the Personal Prophecy Game was in the winter of my sophomore year at Notre Dame. Our basketball team had a road game against Michigan State on a weekend night, and five of us decided that the Irish needed our support in that hostile environment. There was no love lost between ND students and Michigan, only in those days it was the Spartans, not the Wolverines, that got our hackles up. So, we piled into a friend's car to make the round trip to East Lansing, a distance of approximately one hundred fifty miles from The Bend. As we were driving through Niles, Dowagiac or some other small burg in southwestern Michigan, we saw a bedraggled guy stumbling along the sidewalk with a bottle of cheap wine in his grasp. "Hey Sully," one of my companions called out to our friend riding shotgun, "that's you in five years!" Thus, the Personal Prophecy Game was born; group hilarity ensued.
Since that initial joke went over so well, we kept it up every time we spotted some down-on-his-luck, oddly dressed or erratically acting Michigander. Sometimes, in the interest of good sportsmanship, I suppose, the jokester would make himself the butt of the wisecrack by proclaiming, "That's me in five years," as he pointed out a clueless target.
That good natured (although certainly unchristian, not to mention juvenile) ribbing reoccurred all the way to the Michigan State campus. In our defense, it's important to point out that no one outside the confines of the car was aware of our Personal Prophecies. Of course, that didn't make it right, but we were quite pleased that we were able to entertain ourselves for the duration of what would otherwise have been an uneventful ride.
The Middle Stages: Notre Dame hosts a reunion weekend every year in early June. The classes that have graduated exactly five years, or a multiple of five years, prior to the reunion year are invited. The first one I attended was my twenty year reunion in 1989. The two most memorable things about that weekend were the beer tents stationed on the North Quad until 2:00 in the morning, and Lou Holtz making the rounds to talk to each of the ten or more classes which were separately assembled for their class dinners throughout campus. This was the year after Lou's football team had won the National Championship in just his third season at the helm. As Lou spoke he had all of us wrapped around his little finger, and believing that, finally, the gridiron glory days of Fighting Irish football were now permanently restored.
One reunion tradition is that members of the class celebrating its fiftieth year as alums are presented with yellow ND baseball caps. (Why they are not gold, to be consistent with the university's colors of blue and gold, is an unsolved mystery.) Thus, another recollection from that twenty year gathering was watching the fifty year guys, who (if my math is correct) graduated in 1939, donning their yellow caps. Although my classmates and I were in our early forties, far removed from our crazy college years, the fifty year gents seemed borderline ancient. We thought they certainly appeared to be much more than thirty years older than us.
Even at the second reunion I attended, which was ten years later in 1999, the guys in the yellow caps clearly bore little resemblance to us. They moved more slowly, had less hair, drank less beer, didn't seem that impassioned about the football team, and went to bed a whole lot earlier than my fellow '69ers. Many of them never even made an appearance at the beer tents!
Nearing The End: Earlier this month I attended my forty-fifth year ND reunion. Although many of my classmates have never missed any of our eight previous reunions, this year's gathering was only the third time for me. The fifty year "boys" and their spouses were lodged in the Morris Inn. (An aside: My two "wish list" items regarding campus visits are to stay in the Morris Inn and to watch a football game from the press box. To date, I have done neither.) The next oldest class, mine, was given the honor of being housed in the newest dorm, Ryan Hall, built in 2009. Ryan, which happens to be a women's dorm during the school year -- none of the twenty-nine residence halls at ND is coed -- bears little resemblance to the guys' dorms of yesteryear. Elevators, air conditioning, a beautiful lobby/sitting room, cushy hallway carpets, brightly lit and nicely tiled lavatories, wood paneling in the common areas; this place makes Dillon look like a quonset hut.
Our class Mass was celebrated by a classmate, Father
John Sheehan, SJ, in the Ryan Hall Chapel. After introducing himself,
Father John assured us that even though there would be no collection
basket making its way through the pews, what followed would, in fact,
qualify as a bona fide Mass. He also thanked the class reunion
organizers for deciding to dispense with singing (although we did end up
singing the Notre Dame Alma Mater as an ad hoc recessional).
The most sobering moment of the Mass occurred when the list of the names of our deceased classmates was read from the pulpit. I was expecting maybe a dozen, or at most a couple of dozen. No; if only we'd been that lucky. Instead, one hundred fifty names were recited. One hundred fifty! I was stunned. That number represented over ten percent of the Class of '69.
Although mortality, especially my own, was the farthest thing from my mind when I'd set foot on campus earlier that Friday afternoon, the litany of our departed mates brought such thoughts to the fore. Memories of the Personal Prophecy Game crept into my head. When we were young, the unlikely connections between the game's jokesters and the targets were absurd. There was a direct correlation between the level of absurdity and the degree of humor. Now a mere five years separated us sixty-niners from the gents in the yellow caps. Where did the absurdity go? We could no longer pretend (or hope) that we were so far removed from the museum pieces. Maybe in the eyes of the young alums, we were the museum pieces! Taking a good look at those guys hobbling out of the Morris Inn gave us a reasonable forecast of how we'd look at our next reunion, if, indeed, we make it that far. I looked at some of them and said to myself, "That's me in five years."
The most sobering moment of the Mass occurred when the list of the names of our deceased classmates was read from the pulpit. I was expecting maybe a dozen, or at most a couple of dozen. No; if only we'd been that lucky. Instead, one hundred fifty names were recited. One hundred fifty! I was stunned. That number represented over ten percent of the Class of '69.
Although mortality, especially my own, was the farthest thing from my mind when I'd set foot on campus earlier that Friday afternoon, the litany of our departed mates brought such thoughts to the fore. Memories of the Personal Prophecy Game crept into my head. When we were young, the unlikely connections between the game's jokesters and the targets were absurd. There was a direct correlation between the level of absurdity and the degree of humor. Now a mere five years separated us sixty-niners from the gents in the yellow caps. Where did the absurdity go? We could no longer pretend (or hope) that we were so far removed from the museum pieces. Maybe in the eyes of the young alums, we were the museum pieces! Taking a good look at those guys hobbling out of the Morris Inn gave us a reasonable forecast of how we'd look at our next reunion, if, indeed, we make it that far. I looked at some of them and said to myself, "That's me in five years."
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Movie Review: "Jersey Boys"
"Jersey Boys": A-. During the eighteen month period immediately preceding
the Beatles' first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show on February 9,
1964, the two biggest music groups on the Billboard Magazine Hot 100
singles chart were, by far, the Beach Boys from Hawthorne, California,
and the 4 Seasons from Belleville, New Jersey. The Beach Boys had eight
songs in the Top 40 during that stretch, while the 4 Seasons charted
with ten. Neither of those two human hit machines was derailed by the
British Invasion, as the Beach Boys went on to record twenty-six more
Top 40 singles after the Sullivan show, and the Four Seasons nineteen
more (plus eight by Frankie Valli). Other than Elvis Presley, the Beach
Boys and the 4 Seasons arguably were the biggest American recording
acts during the first two decades of the pop 'n' rock era. Jersey Boys, directed by Clint Eastwood and derived from the mega hit Broadway play bearing the same name, is the story of the 4 Seasons.
The face of the 4 Seasons was, of course, its lead singer, Frankie Valli, whose real name was Francis Castelluccio. His falsetto voice was the trademark of the group, easily and instantly recognizable on every 4 Seasons tune. Actor John Lloyd Young, who won a Tony Award for his role as Valli in the Broadway play, not only hits all the right notes, but also resembles Valli in his youth. The brains of the outfit was Bob Gaudio (Erich Bergen), who along with the band's usual producer, Bob Crewe (Mike Doyle), wrote the overwhelming majority of the 4 Seasons' catalogue. It is surprising, therefore, that the central character throughout much of the film is Tommy DeVito (Vincent Piazza), the guitarist and background vocalist who put the singers together when they were teenagers and, in his words, was responsible for "running the group." Director Eastwood uses each of the band members as narrators (talking directly to the camera) at various stages throughout the story. DeVito is the narrator for most of the first third of the movie, so even though there are many dislikable traits about him, we hang in there with him and see his good side as well.
Piazza is perfect as the talented punk who regularly makes the mistake of seeing himself as being a bigger shot than he is. Tommy is somewhat of a Rat Pack wannabe, idolizing fellow Jersey celebrity Frank Sinatra. It becomes painfully apparent to all but Tommy that, if Valli or Gaudio should split, the 4 Seasons would be rendered toast. Tommy really has no leverage. Yet, somehow he uses his charisma and chutzpa for a long time to control the band's direction.
It seems like almost every movie which takes place in New Jersey instills The Garden State almost as a separate character in and of itself. Things happen which wouldn't probably otherwise occur if not for the fact that the setting is Jersey. Thus, the title of the film ( and play) is most apropos. The characters' backgrounds helped to mold them into the adults they became, whether for better or worse. There is almost a swinging gate connecting the neighborhood with the Rahway state pen, and the boys in the band find themselves on the wrong end of the law consistently. The "Jersey Factor" is particularly evident in the relationship between Frankie and Tommy. Sure, if Tommy hadn't exerted his influence early on, the 4 Seasons may never have formed, but Tommy almost single handedly brings down the group due to his mismanagement of money and his inability to consider points of view other than his own.
This being Jersey, the story has to have a mobster, and in fact the movie features two. Norm Waxman (Donnie Kehr) is a hood whose job is to put the squeeze on Tommy when the loan repayments on Tommy's debt to the mafia become delinquent. If Jersey Boys has a scene stealer, it is Christopher Walken playing Gyp DeCarlo, the Godfather of the Newark metropolitan area. He takes an interest in Valli early on, and impresses on the young man that, should the need arise, Valli should not hesitate to call upon DeCarlo for a favor. That is a directive which Valli never forgets.
No review of Jersey Boys would be complete without a comment on the music. Pick any superlative adjective which comes to mind, and it fits the score. I would have a hard time choosing between "sensational" and "extraordinary." The songs alone are strong enough to warrant the price of admission. There will never be another band quite like the 4 Seasons.
Finally -- and if you follow this blog and remember my June 7, 2013 review of The Sapphires, you knew this was coming -- a word or two about ensemble films. One of the best features of Jersey Boys is that all four of the band members' individual stories are revealed, even (albeit to a smaller degree) that of big lovable lug Nick Massi (Michael Lomenda), the bass singer. This is an essential ingredient for storytelling concerning a small group, and Eastwood comes through. Having the narration on a rotation helps, but even if there was no narrator at all, congratulations to the script writers, Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, for resisting the temptation to make this a narrower story of Frankie Valli and three sidemen. It is much more than that.
The face of the 4 Seasons was, of course, its lead singer, Frankie Valli, whose real name was Francis Castelluccio. His falsetto voice was the trademark of the group, easily and instantly recognizable on every 4 Seasons tune. Actor John Lloyd Young, who won a Tony Award for his role as Valli in the Broadway play, not only hits all the right notes, but also resembles Valli in his youth. The brains of the outfit was Bob Gaudio (Erich Bergen), who along with the band's usual producer, Bob Crewe (Mike Doyle), wrote the overwhelming majority of the 4 Seasons' catalogue. It is surprising, therefore, that the central character throughout much of the film is Tommy DeVito (Vincent Piazza), the guitarist and background vocalist who put the singers together when they were teenagers and, in his words, was responsible for "running the group." Director Eastwood uses each of the band members as narrators (talking directly to the camera) at various stages throughout the story. DeVito is the narrator for most of the first third of the movie, so even though there are many dislikable traits about him, we hang in there with him and see his good side as well.
Piazza is perfect as the talented punk who regularly makes the mistake of seeing himself as being a bigger shot than he is. Tommy is somewhat of a Rat Pack wannabe, idolizing fellow Jersey celebrity Frank Sinatra. It becomes painfully apparent to all but Tommy that, if Valli or Gaudio should split, the 4 Seasons would be rendered toast. Tommy really has no leverage. Yet, somehow he uses his charisma and chutzpa for a long time to control the band's direction.
It seems like almost every movie which takes place in New Jersey instills The Garden State almost as a separate character in and of itself. Things happen which wouldn't probably otherwise occur if not for the fact that the setting is Jersey. Thus, the title of the film ( and play) is most apropos. The characters' backgrounds helped to mold them into the adults they became, whether for better or worse. There is almost a swinging gate connecting the neighborhood with the Rahway state pen, and the boys in the band find themselves on the wrong end of the law consistently. The "Jersey Factor" is particularly evident in the relationship between Frankie and Tommy. Sure, if Tommy hadn't exerted his influence early on, the 4 Seasons may never have formed, but Tommy almost single handedly brings down the group due to his mismanagement of money and his inability to consider points of view other than his own.
This being Jersey, the story has to have a mobster, and in fact the movie features two. Norm Waxman (Donnie Kehr) is a hood whose job is to put the squeeze on Tommy when the loan repayments on Tommy's debt to the mafia become delinquent. If Jersey Boys has a scene stealer, it is Christopher Walken playing Gyp DeCarlo, the Godfather of the Newark metropolitan area. He takes an interest in Valli early on, and impresses on the young man that, should the need arise, Valli should not hesitate to call upon DeCarlo for a favor. That is a directive which Valli never forgets.
No review of Jersey Boys would be complete without a comment on the music. Pick any superlative adjective which comes to mind, and it fits the score. I would have a hard time choosing between "sensational" and "extraordinary." The songs alone are strong enough to warrant the price of admission. There will never be another band quite like the 4 Seasons.
Finally -- and if you follow this blog and remember my June 7, 2013 review of The Sapphires, you knew this was coming -- a word or two about ensemble films. One of the best features of Jersey Boys is that all four of the band members' individual stories are revealed, even (albeit to a smaller degree) that of big lovable lug Nick Massi (Michael Lomenda), the bass singer. This is an essential ingredient for storytelling concerning a small group, and Eastwood comes through. Having the narration on a rotation helps, but even if there was no narrator at all, congratulations to the script writers, Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, for resisting the temptation to make this a narrower story of Frankie Valli and three sidemen. It is much more than that.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Out Of The Mouths Of Presidents
Today Simon & Schuster is releasing the new book by the forty-fifth
president of the United States. I am sure you know the author to whom I
am referring. To mark this momentous book world occasion, I've decided
to write this "interactive" post.
Whenever the subjects of presidential administrations and presidential politics are broached, I tend to think of famous quotations uttered (sometimes allegedly) by US presidents and other celebrities from the annals of American history. I have always been fascinated by famous quotes. They play a big part of our nation's legacy. One of the ironic things about movie quotes is that some of the most famous ones were never actually uttered on screen. For example, despite popular belief, in Casablanca neither Humphrey Bogart nor Ingrid Bergman ever says "Play it again, Sam." Bergman does say, "Play it once, Sam, for old times' sake..." Likewise, impressionists of Cary Grant are fond of using "Judy, Judy, Judy!" In fact, Grant never spoke those words in any of his dozens of films, even though it does sound like something one of his characters would have said. The same might be true of historical quotes. Did Paul Revere ever literally proclaim, "The British are coming"?
During my eleven years of teaching, I created hundreds of tests and quizzes for my students. I almost never used pre-fab tests, preferring instead to write my own to fit my expectations for the kids. (In all humility, I also figured I was better at it than the guys and gals at Scott Foresman, Houghton Mifflin, or wherever.) Math tests and quizzes were the easiest to draft, and by far the easiest to grade. I particularly enjoyed composing literature tests on novels which the students read together as a class. A typical test would have the following sections: (i) straight forward fact questions, to get at the who, what, where, etc.; (ii) matching quotes which were peculiar to or identified with certain characters with those characters; (iii) matching descriptions of characters to those characters; (iv) rearranging a series of four or five (or more) events into chronological order; and of course, (v) a couple of essay questions to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Whenever the subjects of presidential administrations and presidential politics are broached, I tend to think of famous quotations uttered (sometimes allegedly) by US presidents and other celebrities from the annals of American history. I have always been fascinated by famous quotes. They play a big part of our nation's legacy. One of the ironic things about movie quotes is that some of the most famous ones were never actually uttered on screen. For example, despite popular belief, in Casablanca neither Humphrey Bogart nor Ingrid Bergman ever says "Play it again, Sam." Bergman does say, "Play it once, Sam, for old times' sake..." Likewise, impressionists of Cary Grant are fond of using "Judy, Judy, Judy!" In fact, Grant never spoke those words in any of his dozens of films, even though it does sound like something one of his characters would have said. The same might be true of historical quotes. Did Paul Revere ever literally proclaim, "The British are coming"?
During my eleven years of teaching, I created hundreds of tests and quizzes for my students. I almost never used pre-fab tests, preferring instead to write my own to fit my expectations for the kids. (In all humility, I also figured I was better at it than the guys and gals at Scott Foresman, Houghton Mifflin, or wherever.) Math tests and quizzes were the easiest to draft, and by far the easiest to grade. I particularly enjoyed composing literature tests on novels which the students read together as a class. A typical test would have the following sections: (i) straight forward fact questions, to get at the who, what, where, etc.; (ii) matching quotes which were peculiar to or identified with certain characters with those characters; (iii) matching descriptions of characters to those characters; (iv) rearranging a series of four or five (or more) events into chronological order; and of course, (v) a couple of essay questions to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Momma Cuandito is a volunteer at Fashions On Main Street
(aka Learning In Style), a school run by the Sisters Of St. Joseph for
immigrant adults. The primary focus is on English, math and computer
skills. The teachers at Fashions periodically assist the students in
preparing for citizenship tests. I have seen many of the questions, and
believe me, the average American-born adult, including yours truly,
would not want to take the citizenship test that our government requires
of our immigrants. The test is replete with obscure dates, rules, laws
and other minutia.
As hard as it is to believe, the US Department Of
Homeland Security has not, to this point, asked me to create a revised
test for citizenship. However, I expect that news of my fame as a Test
Creator Extraordianaire will eventually trickle over to Washington, DC,
and at that point the request for my help will be forthcoming. In
anticipation of that day, and recalling my years as a Boy Scout during
which we were trained to always be prepared, I have already written a
rough draft of a section of the test, concentrating on famous quotes
from American presidents (keeping in mind the caveat discussed in the
second paragraph above). It seems to me that any immigrant aspiring to
become a US citizen should be able to match most of the following quotes
with the persons who said them. My test is much easier (read: fairer)
than what's currently being used, and I am the epitome of fairness. I'm
pretty confident that most of the readers of this blog will achieve a
perfect score of 16.
One of the many (?) benefits of reading my blog is
that you get an advanced peek at that portion of my test. Actually,
come to think of it, the NSA has probably already covertly tapped into
my computer, and the patriotic spies are reading this as I type. Good
luck to those of you proceeding to take the test. By the way, it's
pass/fail, with a score of 10 correct being the line of demarcation.
JOHNNY ROCK'S CITIZENSHIP TEST - Oral US History
Directions: Match the famous quote with the American president who uttered it.
___ 1. "I cannot tell a lie."
___ 2. "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty."
___ 3. "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation..."
___ 4. "After all, the chief business of the American people is business."
___ 5. "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."
___ 6. "In the councils of government, we must guard
against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or
unsought, by the military-industrial complex."
___ 7. "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country."
___ 8. "I shall not seek, and I will not accept, the nomination of my party for another term as your President."
___ 9. "I am not a crook."
___ 10. "I've looked on many women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times."
___ 11. "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall."
___ 12. "I did not have sexual relations with that woman..."
___ 13. "Mission accomplished."
___ 14. "If you like your health care plan, you can keep it."
___ 15. "What difference at this point does it make?"
___ 16. "The buck stops here."
***
A. Abraham Lincoln
B. Barack Obama
C. Calvin Coolidge
D. Dwight D. Eisenhower
E. Franklin Delano Roosevelt
F. George W. Bush
G. George Washington
H. Harry S. Truman
I. Hillary Rodham Clinton
J. Jimmy Carter
K. John Fitzgerald Kennedy
L. Lyndon Baines Johnson
M. Richard Milhous Nixon
N. Ronald Reagan
O. Thomas Jefferson
P. William Jefferson Clinton
***
You may have noticed that the quotes above are placed in chronological order, except
for the last one. As the blogger, I reserve the right to do that for
dramatic juxtapositioning. Outside the context of a blog, I probably
would have mixed up the chronology of the quotes.
Answers: 1-G; 2-O; 3-A; 4-C; 5-E; 6-D; 7-K; 8-L; 9-M; 10-J; 11-N; 12-P; 13-F; 14-B; 15-I; 16-H
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Movie Review: "Cold In July"
"Cold In July": C+. The action in the crime drama, Cold In July, starts immediately
when Ann Dane (Vinessa Shaw) awakens her husband, Richard (Michael C.
Hall), in the middle of the night after hearing strange noises coming
from another room. Just as many East Texas homeowners would be likely
to do, Richard grabs his gun and within minutes has wasted the unarmed
intruder with a sharp blast. Richard is assured by the local sheriff,
Ray Price (Nick Damici), that he has nothing to worry about legally,
because Richard was justified in protecting his home and family. Not
only that, the dead man was a fugitive felon, Freddy Russell. Sheriff
Price does add, almost parenthetically, that Freddy's father, Ben
Russell, has just been released on parole from prison.
For reasons unexplained -- probably a sense of guilt -- Richard decides to attend the gravesite service. Before Richard can even exit his car at the cemetery, Ben Russell approaches him. Ben is played by Sam Shepard, a veteran actor who is able to get a message across with body language, menacing stares and several subtle hints. It is clear to Richard, based on his short conversation with Ben, that Ben will seek revenge for the killing of Freddy. Richard, fearing for the safety of his own son, alerts his wife and Sheriff Price, but since Ben has done nothing provably illegal since his release, the best the police can offer Richard's family is surveillance.
At this point we are less than a third of the way through the movie, and I am crossing my fingers that this might be another sleeper in the same vein as 1992's One False Move, a crime drama set mostly in rural Arkansas and which is one of the most underrated films I've ever seen. But those hopes are quickly dashed when the plot suddenly spins out of control into preposterous territory.
After a few days pass, Sheriff Price advises Richard that Ben Russell has been apprehended in Mexico for parole violation, and awaits extradition back to Texas. Richard breathes a sigh of relief, thinking his problems with Ben are over. But then things start to get dicey when Richard notices an old FBI wanted poster in the sheriff's office. The man in the mug shot is identified as Freddy Russell, but his face is obviously not the burglar shot and killed by Richard. Who, then, was the dead guy? Did the cops concoct this case of mistaken identity to set a trap for Ben?
The story gets very dark and is full of surprise twists, many of which don't add up. We witness police corruption, samplings of snuff videos, creepy villains and Tarantinoesque bloodshed. We are also treated to small doses of humor, most of which is supplied by Don Johnson playing private eye Jim Bob Luke, who is dressed like a rhinestone cowboy. Johnson is so good in this role that it will be interesting to see if he's considered for a Best Supporting Actor nomination. He is the only reason I raised my original grade of "C."
The screenplay was written by Damici (the actor who plays Price) and is based on a novel by the prolific Joe R. Lansdale. Damici should get credit for setting the tone and establishing riveting tension throughout many scenes. But this is mostly outweighed by the total unlikelihood of the changes undergone by the main character. As the story advances, Richard does a complete about face both in his makeup and in his sense of family duty. The filmmakers fail to present logical explanations for this turnabout. There is a difference between a character progressing or regressing in stages from beginning to end, and a character undergoing an abrupt change without exhibiting in a sensible way what got him there. I don't care if Richard Dane is from East Texas or East Bethel. Once he starts acting out of character the story goes from quirky to unbelievable.
For reasons unexplained -- probably a sense of guilt -- Richard decides to attend the gravesite service. Before Richard can even exit his car at the cemetery, Ben Russell approaches him. Ben is played by Sam Shepard, a veteran actor who is able to get a message across with body language, menacing stares and several subtle hints. It is clear to Richard, based on his short conversation with Ben, that Ben will seek revenge for the killing of Freddy. Richard, fearing for the safety of his own son, alerts his wife and Sheriff Price, but since Ben has done nothing provably illegal since his release, the best the police can offer Richard's family is surveillance.
At this point we are less than a third of the way through the movie, and I am crossing my fingers that this might be another sleeper in the same vein as 1992's One False Move, a crime drama set mostly in rural Arkansas and which is one of the most underrated films I've ever seen. But those hopes are quickly dashed when the plot suddenly spins out of control into preposterous territory.
After a few days pass, Sheriff Price advises Richard that Ben Russell has been apprehended in Mexico for parole violation, and awaits extradition back to Texas. Richard breathes a sigh of relief, thinking his problems with Ben are over. But then things start to get dicey when Richard notices an old FBI wanted poster in the sheriff's office. The man in the mug shot is identified as Freddy Russell, but his face is obviously not the burglar shot and killed by Richard. Who, then, was the dead guy? Did the cops concoct this case of mistaken identity to set a trap for Ben?
The story gets very dark and is full of surprise twists, many of which don't add up. We witness police corruption, samplings of snuff videos, creepy villains and Tarantinoesque bloodshed. We are also treated to small doses of humor, most of which is supplied by Don Johnson playing private eye Jim Bob Luke, who is dressed like a rhinestone cowboy. Johnson is so good in this role that it will be interesting to see if he's considered for a Best Supporting Actor nomination. He is the only reason I raised my original grade of "C."
The screenplay was written by Damici (the actor who plays Price) and is based on a novel by the prolific Joe R. Lansdale. Damici should get credit for setting the tone and establishing riveting tension throughout many scenes. But this is mostly outweighed by the total unlikelihood of the changes undergone by the main character. As the story advances, Richard does a complete about face both in his makeup and in his sense of family duty. The filmmakers fail to present logical explanations for this turnabout. There is a difference between a character progressing or regressing in stages from beginning to end, and a character undergoing an abrupt change without exhibiting in a sensible way what got him there. I don't care if Richard Dane is from East Texas or East Bethel. Once he starts acting out of character the story goes from quirky to unbelievable.
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