The Visitor, a film review

About a year ago I saw The Visitor and found it moving. But as is so often the case, it's easy to miss some things in a first viewing, and the significance of the opening scene was lost on me the first time I saw this carefully crafted story.

Richard Jenkins has been perfectly cast as Walter Vale, a disaffected college professor who for the past two decades has been drifting through life. Now that he is a widower, the string of meaningless days is more empty than ever. Fortunately, he has a personal quality that will lead him out of his inner darkness. He is open to new experiences.

As the film begins, Walter is taking a piano lesson. It's clear that he and the piano teacher are not connecting. And it comes as no surprise when he tells her at the door that this will be his last lesson with her. She replies, gently, that he really doesn't have an aptitude for it. She also asks if she can purchase the piano if he ever gives up on it.

This opening sequence is quite telling. First, we learn that Walter is trying something new, and even if he is not good at it, there is an emerging something that wants to be released. He's failed now with four piano teachers, but has not given up. Second, the director Thomas McCarthy knows how to economically tell a lot of story with very few brushstrokes. This approach is executed with great effectiveness throughout. It is a fascinating story, well told. And it's not a film about a guy learning the piano. It's a film about a man who is beginning to wake up, a man who begins to notice things that are going on around him.

I believe this is Richard Jenkins' first performance in a lead role and he's just the man for the job. But all four of the main characters give flawless performances.

The real story begins when Jenkins returns to his New York City apartment and discovers there are people living there in his space. Both the couple and Jenkins are shocked, and you wonder what is going to happen next. By allowing the situation to continue, Jenkins learns a little more about the world outside his walls. The couple are both illegal immigrants, Talek a jazz musician from Syria and Zanaib a street vendor from Senegal, each doing what they can to make a way for themselves in this complicated world.

Tarik's widowed mother Mouna, played by a Hiam Abbas with textured perfection, enters the story later, bringing still more dimensions to Walter Vale's expanding world.

Rather than spoil it for you, I will not detail the complications that occur. All I can say is that the film's ending is to some extent like an O Henry surprise, but very satisfying when you reflect on how it got there. It's the story of Walter Vale's awakening.

Reading people's responses to a film, book or news story can sometimes be nearly as interesting as the story that triggered such wild varieties of response. Imdb.com is always filled with lively commentary and insightful anecdotes. For example, the year this film premiered at Sundance it received a standing ovation. One writer stated that this was one of those rare films that you don't want to end.

Another wrote:
It would be easy to pigeon-hole this film as a topical drama dealing with an uncaring government system. But this film transcends all that. Instead it is a heartfelt film about what happens when people -- with all their desires and difficulties -- bump into one another to express the best part of their humanity.

But I have to add that despite the many 9 and 10 star reviews, there were some who also hated it. One wrote, "I have never seen such a good rating for such an awful movie." Maybe that person was expecting more special effects? The story may have been a bit too nuanced for someone who grew up on video games.

My opinion: The Visitor is both entertaining and thought-provoking, with endearing characters and a takeaway that is deeply satisfying. Check it out.

Inglourious Basterds

"Completed a short story last night: How To Fix A Color TV --- needs a better title, but the essential story is down, and I am pleased with some of the effects. Needs to be shared to get feedback on a couple spots, but overall I like what I've done. Am beginning to learn what 'show, don't tell' means. Am learning more about creating effects without cliches. (I hope!) Am also learning, hopefully, how to tell a story, how to establish pace, etc. I imagine I will again be criticized for not developing my characters. Need to make people see them visually. Have enjoyed getting it out on paper... 'vamos a ver.'"
Journal note, July 2, 1990

This is a journal note from a period in my life when I was attempting to find my voice as a fiction writer, striving to produce "serious fiction." I learned a lot about writing during this phase of my development, especially as it relates to story telling. Writing fiction improves one's non-fiction as well. The relating of anecdotes, the attention to detail, taking abstract observations and capturing them with a vivid concreteness... all these and more help improve one's work.

Following many years of short story writing I got bit by the Hollywood screenwriter dream after having appeared in the film Iron Will as an extra, 1993. (Probably the one film Kevin Spacey prefers left off his resume.) By the time I'd finished the third screenplay my Hollywood ambitions were played out, but those years of studying the process of story telling in film were quite instructive.

It's one thing to watch a movie, to get lost in its dream, and another to analyze how the director created the effects, built the characters, managed the tension, paced the plot development.

A co-worker who is a student of film (not scholastically, but through longstanding observation and a passion for excellence in the theater) told me last week that Inglorious Basterds is a film of such quality that it will be studied in film schools in the future. Hearing such high praise made it a "must see" film for me. Such praise is also a challenge because your expectations have been raised.

Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs is a cult classic, the first film where I covered my eyes in a scene since Kaltiki the Immortal Monster when I was eight. It's vulgar and violent, but told in a truly original style that brings it into sharp contrast with typical linear story telling. (OK, Kubrick did it in his first film The Killing, but 99.8% of the audiences who saw Dogs never heard of that.) When Pulp Fiction became a mega hit Tarantino, who once just worked in a video store, could do whatever he wanted. He was living the dream.

Obviously the guy loves violence, a seemingly constant theme throughout his work as exemplified in films like Death Proof, Grindhouse, the Kill Bill flicks and Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers, which was based on a story of his. (Woody Harrelson took a break from being Cheers' sweet Woody to take a walk on the wild side.) In short, Tarantino really enjoys finding new ways to splash blood onto the silver screen.

The thing is, this guy really knows how to tell a story. In point of fact there are scene so incredible in this film that I agree with my friend who says this film will be studied. The opening takes place at the home of a rural dairy farmer in Nazi occupied France, 1941. We see a small detachment of Germans driving up the winding road to his house. In real time the vehicles approach, the farmer telling his teenage daughters to get in the house. The Colonel, who it turns out is nicknamed "The Jew Hunter", acting magnanimously toward the farmer, sits at his table, shares a smoke and easy conversation. But there is no ease in the farmer. We feel the mounting tension, and initially suppose it relates to concern about his three daughters. As the scene slowly, ever so slowly plays out, we ourselves discover what the Colonel already suspected. There were Jews being harbored in the house.

Like Reservoir Dogs, Tarantino takes his time, allows this opening scene to play out, shows no urgency in moving the story forward. The cinematography in this case is as gorgeous as a panaramic Barry Lyndon/Kubrick landscape. The tension as pronounced as a shower scene in the Bates Motel. The acting spot on. And a bigger than life fairy tale has been set in motion.

Brad Pitt is superb as leader of the Basterds, a group of American soldiers who have been dropped behind enemy lines to unnerve the Nazis through especially brutal forms of viciousness. Taking scalps is the name of the game.

One variance from Dogs worth noting. I don't think there was any bad language used throughout. Violence is there in creative abundance, but I personally think the film was not hurt by this omission.

Much more could be said, but you can glean plenty from reading the many other reviews out there. I have to mention that the scene in the bar where Pitt's Basterds rendezvous with actress Bridget von Hammersmark is one of the most incredible scenes in film history, so simple, so smart, so unpredictable, so nerve-stretching and delivered with such patience. People will make a lot of whoop about the big finale no doubt, but it is the subtle development in scenes like this one that give a movie viewer real satisfaction.

For what it's worth, the story referenced in my journal note above ultimately won first prize in the five state Arrowhead Regional Arts Fiction Competition in 1991. The plot twists may not be as numerous as Tarantino's Basterds, but you might find it an entertaining read. One difference is that Tarantino's story is a fairy tale and mine, The Breaking Point, is true.... sort of, in a fictional kind of way.

Henry Poole Is Here

Went to see Henry Poole Is Here last night, a very interesting story well told. The film raises issues worth talking about. It's also not likely receive the audiences it deserves since it doesn't feature major stars, special effects or intense nail-biting horror or drama.

As a writer I came away saying, "I wish I'd written that." The way the story is told, something like a fisherman paying out line, little by little, letting a little more line out, or like a painter laying down thin layers of line and color... Each scene leads to the next in a rational manner, even though to some extent the premise is absurd. Through the normal interactions of the characters and Henry Poole's memories, motivations are revealed and the story takes shape.

Essentially, Henry Poole is a very depressed man who buys a house that he does not expect to live in very long. It is not the house he wanted. He had hoped to buy the house he grew up in, but the people would not sell it even though he offered them any price. Henry drinks and lies around, clearly depressed in an extreme way. We eventually learn he is waiting to die from an unnamed (in the film) disease which will ravage him quickly and soon.

His Hispanic neighbor, a cheerful woman who also has experienced hurt, tries to welcome him to the neighborhood in a warm manner. In the process she sees in a stain, on the back wall of his recently stuccoed house, the face of Christ. Through her well meaning meddling, she brings a priest, some friends and still more people.

There is also a relationship built with the woman who lives next door and her mute daughter. And the checkout girl at the grocery store also notices Henry's despair and tries to encourage him. She's a nice kid with coke bottle lenses for eyeglasses, a girl nearly blind with bad eyesight.

The tension in the story arises from Henry's desire to be left alone. Wallowing in his despair as he waits to die, he resents the invasion on his space by well meaning others. Henry has ruled out hope for himself, but is constantly challenged by Esperanza and others who begin to be influenced by the events taking place in his yard, for the wall begins to bleed the blood of Christ, and miracles begin to happen.

There are several refreshing aspects of this Sundance film. First, the priest in the film is not a fool or silly caricature, but a real man who responds like a sensitive person. Not your typical Hollywood stereotype for men of the cloth. Also, the story avoids a number of cliche side paths that could have cheapened the effect of the film. There are some who will see the film as hokey. For sure there is an element of implausibility in the premise... but through a directorial deftness, the film succeeds.

Henry Poole's story is ultimately about hope and despair, and what it takes to reach the deepest part of the soul when hope is utterly lost. If you get a chance, try to see it.

Himalaya

We all know the Himalayas. Or rather, we pretty much all know that they are the highest mountains in the world, somewhat forbidding and full of mystery.

I just finished reading (again, listening to) the unabridged account of Michael Palin’s book Himalaya, read by the author. Palin is the familiar face from the BBC’s Monty Python comedy troop, one of my favorite characters in whatever skit you find him in. His “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition” sketch is always a gut splitter, but in almost anything where he is teamed with John Cleese you can be sure it’s going to be funny.

Himalaya, however, is a serious book, essentially an ongoing chronicle of Palin’s travels while filming his travel show for the BBC. This adventure covered 3,000 miles and took six months to complete, a little much for a four day weekend. Beginning at the Kuyber Pass at the Afghanistan border, Palin takes in everything, sharing it with his viewers and readers. High altitude polo in Pakistan, penetrating dialogue with the exiled Dalai Lama, and a whole range of mountain top experiences are shared with enthusiasm. The wide variety of cultures, religions, peoples and political expressions are highly informative.

Palin’s wit is with him throughout, and a keen eye for details that make the journey memorable for those of us who weren’t able to join him. On some occasions there were parties and social encounters where the most remote peoples were familiar with Palin from his Monty Python days, and a few times he even sang for them The Lumberjack Song. The book is an entertaining and informative experience by a highly entertaining writer.

If you're interested in this part of the world, I also recommend the Brad Pitt film Seven Years in Tibet, the true story of Heinrich Harrer, an Australian mountain climber who became friends with the Dalai Lama. I've watched it several times, never without being moved. Pitt is superb, the cinematography spectacular, the story uplifting, and yes, the film is a masterpiece.

But the backdrop for all, whether Michael Palin's adventure or the Hollywood re-creation of a slice of history, is a mountainous region of the world known wondrously as the Himalayas. In whatever form you wish to take it in, please do.

Cassandra’s Dream

Just finished watching Woody Allen’s most recent release, Cassandra’s Dream, starring Colin Farrell and Ewan McGregor, among others. There are many great facets of the film, including the superfine way Allen creates fully developed characters with a minimal number of brushstrokes. He’s a master in this regard.

A follow up to Match Point, the film has the same seriousness, setting (England), ironies, and mix of characters with their different generational viewpoints and motivations. The characters are transparent to the viewer, but not to one another. In this regard, the screen writing is brilliant.

It is a story of two brothers -- and their love interests as well as family ties -- who have character flaws. Each has dreams that require money, and each seems intent on escaping the responsibilities of the family business to pursue what are patently foolish paths. At one point the brothers reminded me of some of Elmore Leonard’s criminals who are both smart and foolish. The outcome of the film was from the beginning self-evident, why could they not see it coming? Yet people do these kinds of things all the time. The music track alone tells you this is a tragedy and going to have a bad ending.

I did have a problem with the Phillip Glass soundtrack on one level. Yes, it worked well in this film, but for me it evoked The Illusionist. If someone pointed this out (and someone must have) I can picture Allen saying, “That’ll work. Not that many people will have seen both films.” Or something to that effect.

That may be the one weakness of the film, not the music, but the decision to not push something to another level. Mr. Allen’s philosophy of film making is not to produce great art. It is to get the stories out. He is undoubtedly filled with stories, and simply doesn’t waste time on time consuming details. Or so it seems.

For this reason, despite the fabulous acting and great dialogue, crisp character development and tight story, the movie might not receive its share of critical acclaim. But then, in reading his book Woody Allen on Woody Allen, he owns up to the fact that he is not striving to be Bergman or Fellini. He does not wish the comparison to be even made. He is simply a man who loved the movies, and who has lived out his dream of being able to make movies. Ultimately, he probably doesn’t really care what the critics think, which is a nice place to be if you can get there.

In the end, I would have re-shot at least two or three moments in the film that should have been re-shot to “get it right.” Though maybe in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter. There is much to like here with its echoes of Greek tragedy and other classic moments in literature. (The scene in the bedroom felt eerily close to the problem Raskalnikov encountered in Crime & Punishment, undoubtedly intentional.)

The film has sensuousness as a theme with almost none of the usual Hollywood demonstrativeness. It hints, rather than reveals.

The title for the film comes from the name of a boat which the brothers buy. The name Cassandra is taken from mythical Greek tragedy. Cassandra was loved by Apollo, but ended up being cursed by him when she did not return his love. Her gift of being able to foresee the future was forever a source of pain and frustration for her. The viewer of this film, like Cassandra, knows from the first that things will turn out bad, but can do nothing to stop it.

As is often the case, “The best laid plans of mice and men do often go awry.” Or to quote a maxim of my own, “We tend to get what we want, but we usually get more than we bargained for.”

Expelled

Last night we went to see Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed. Going into it I was unaware of all the controversy about this film because evidently I either (a) travel through a different orbit, or (b) live under a rock. Roger Moore of the Orlando Sentinel gave it a one star (*) in our local paper here in Duluth. A quick jump to RottenTomatoes.com shows that the critics in general are in agreement that this is a bad film. Reviewer Ken Hanke’s remarks reflect the majority view: “Junk science meets even junkier filmmaking in Expelled -- a no more shameless, stupid and loathsome piece of propaganda has ever skulked its way into the theater.”

At the end of the day it is criticized for being biased, one sided, and manipulative with a 9% favorable rating by the critics. But these same critics loved Michael Moore’s biased, one-sided Fahrenheit 9/11, which they described as “Extremely one-sided in its indictment of the Bush administration, but worth watching for the humor and the debates it'll stir.” And this one from Bill Clark of TheBalcony, “Moore's best and most mature effort to date.

Reviews at the IMDB site are no kinder. One reviewer calls Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed “pure unadulterated crap” and others label it “useless propaganda.” Another quoted the New York Times reviewer who calls it a “conspiracy-theory rant masquerading as investigative inquiry.” Another declares the film to be “willfully ignorant and intentionally deceptive.”

Yet the Expelled raises a number of good questions. Like, are scientists permitted to pursue honest doubts about Darwin’s opus? Is there true freedom of inquiry in academia? Are some questions off limits because they violate the Sacred Edicts of Political Correctness?

But wait, why is it that Michael Moore can raise questions in an entertaining way, and Ben Stein cannot? Michael Moore can manipulate and Expelled cannot? Who’s kidding whom?

When Bernard Goldberg blew the whistle on bias within the network news, he was immediately persona non grata at CBS. Admitting the truth that everyone on the inside already knew… well, this is an unpardonable sin. Despite three decades of outstanding work, Goldberg was immediately marginalized and put out to pasture.

As you read the reviews by movie critics (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/) on these two films (Fahrenheit 9/11 and Expelled) it is apparent that the critics are merciless toward one of these films and falling all over themselves to praise the other. I find it pretty revealing.

As for me, I would strongly recommend seeing this film. Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed is well done, entertaining and thought provoking. The defenders of Darwin were not pretending to believers here. Their words (men like Dawkins, for example) were not twisted to produce different meanings from what they declare here. The film is not dishonest, and the concerns of those who created this film are not fabricated from tissues of fantasy. In point of fact, the amusing thing is how fantastically bizarre the purportedly scientific explanations can become once you wipe out the possibility of God as part of the equation in life’s origins.

Reflections on a Phenomenon

I recently watched the movie Phenomenon again. For those who haven't seen it, John Travolta plays George, the central character, a somewhat slow-witted nice guy who has a strange experience that awakens his consciousness and begins to hyperactivate his mind. In short, he becomes a phenomenon.

The movie does a wonderful job of presenting George's struggle as he seeks to understand what is happening to him. His friends, however, are equally befuddled and the unanswered questions that arise from their own insecurities cause misunderstanding, pain and rejection. It's almost as scary to know a phenomenon as to be one.

In my opinion it was a good story well told. Like all good stories, it unearthed regions of my own soul, areas I have mined before and will mine again because I believe their are still some precious stones to uncover there.

It is a life theme to which I often return. Are we not each a phenomenon in our own way? What is the meaning of my life? What are my unique gifts? Where has my power come from from? And how much of it is unused, undeveloped, unactivated.

We use so little of our strength, our psychic powers, our capabilities. We choose, instead, to live in a dark, dull, ill-lit corridor called 'life', a cramped hallway with narrow walls, yellowed, peeling wallpaper, moldy and stifling. Windowless and without wind. No unpredictable weather. And we wonder why it bores us, why we've lost our passion.

John Updike made the observation that there are Four Life Forces: Love, Habit, Time and Boredom. Love and Habit are powerful, giving short term energy and stability to our lives. Time has a more long term grinding influence. But Boredom, the great leveller, is a prison that captures us subtly. When boredom becomes a habit, life passes us by.

For you, may it never be so.

No Country for Old Men

Cormac McCarthy's book No Country for Old Men is an incredible story so very well told. I listen to audio books and this one made me want to keep driving. I could hardly wait for the morrow's commute.

It's one of the classic thriller story lines. An ordinary person accidentally gets caught up in extraordinary circumstances. Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man is a nail-biter example of this genre. A Simple Plan, with Bill Paxton and Billy Bob Thornton, is another.

And like any exceptional story, No Country has memorable characters. Llewelyn Moss is the unfortunate man who while hunting comes across a dope deal gone bad in the expansive back country of South Texas, and ends up with a satchel containing two million dollars in cash. There's a lesson here, though it is never stated as such: if you ever find a couple million dollars that are not yours, it's best to just stay out of it. Even though everyone involved in the transaction appears shot up and pretty much finished off, Moss knows that there will likely be others coming for the money. Little does he know how bad one of these others is.

NOTE: This Review Contains Spoilers

The guy who keeps you sitting straight up in your seat, and may keep you awake at night after, is Javier Bardem as Anton Chiguhr. Think sugar and chigger, and you have this pathological, human version of The Terminator, relentless in pursuit and seemingly indestructible. Nothing sweet about this man whose conscience is dead and determination unstoppable. Your heart rate increases every time he's on the screen.

No Country for Old Men has been receiving fabulous reviews. The Coen brothers (Fargo, O Brother, Where Art Thou?) wrote the screenplay and directed this first rate film. Like another current book adaptation, Charlie Wilson's War, there is much that has to be sifted out and only hinted at, lest we have something tiresome to watch after a while. The Coens were successful at creating the emotional tension that is generated by the book.

How did they do it? One noteworthy item is the total absence of a music soundtrack. They deserve high praise for avoiding the commercial temptation to make a music bed that would generate additional revenues afterward. Instead, they went the direct opposite way with this film. No music, no sound at all in the opening or closing credits. No fake strings section to tip viewers off that something bad is coming. The tension is created totally by the intersection of characters and circumstances. And it does get intense.

In terms of execution the film was flawless. Congrats to the Coens for their ability to bring everyone together and pull off this kind of feat.

But there were a number of problems for me with this film adaptation. First, Tommy Lee Jones as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell. I mean, I just couldn't get past that this was Tommy Lee Jones playing a caricature of himself. He has been in too many movies where he's this hard boiled veteran whose seen too much of life. It is through his eyes that we see the story unfold. As a central character he plays this role well, but I know him as an actor from The Fugitive to Men In Black and, gosh, couldn't we find anyone else to do this? Sorry, guys. That's how it was for me.

Second, some have criticized the short amount of time Woody Harrelson is onscreen. Yep. He is a more important character in the book. Like William Hurt's brief appearance in Syriana, it was not necessary to have such star power here. O.K., it maybe sells more tickets at the box office? I really liked this character in the book, and Harrelson does play Carson Wells the bounty hunter very well, but I just don't know.

I consider both of these criticisms relatively minor compared to my one major criticism. It simply ended too fast in too confusing of a manner. I think a tight, fast ending is usually great in films so that they do not drag on after the final rush. The problem here is a tight, fast and confusing ending. If I had not read the book, I would not have known what happened. And I am not talking about the scene where Chiguhr is hit by the car. I'm referring to the preceding homicides that end the cat-and-mouse drama.

The reason this is a problem is that, in my opinion, the last emotion one should have after this kind of a thrill ride is that same relief you get when the roller coaster slams back into the station and they unlatch the mechanisms that keep you in the car. Relief. Catch your breath. Instead of a big "wow," I left the theater perplexed and disappointed, with jumbled thoughts. Instead of being in awe at the way they created such a fabulous film, I walked out baffled, dampened by the lack of clarity in the films last scenes. This should not have happened.

I still think it a powerful film and worth seeing if you like this kind of story. It will put you on the edge of your seat.

Two Books, Two Movies

As far as I'm concerned, it was a pretty weak year for films. What I mean is that beginning with spring there were almost no compelling movies playing at the theaters till the very end of 2007. Pirates III with Johnny Depp got a nod from critics and fans as better than Pirates II, but it wasn't enough to make me want to give up an evening or afternoon. I have plenty else on my plate, thank you. I took a chance this fall on Across the Universe, which was entertaining. But for the most part, I did my movie watching at home.

On the other hand, I have read or listened to a lot of very good books this year. One way to get more reading time squeezed in to your life is to listen to books while you commute. Any good library will offer plenty of books on CD or tape for those so inclined. This has been a habit of mine for perhaps eight years now, listening to audio books and lectures.

To my surprise, two books that I found especially engaging in 2007 were made into movies that have been released here in mid-to-late December. The first, No Country for Old Men, by Carson McCormac; the second, Charlie Wilson's War, by George Crile. The full title of this latter book is, Charlie Wilson's War: The Extraordinary Story of How the Wildest Man in Congress and a Rogue CIA Agent Changed the History of Our Times.

Crile's book is a remarkable read. Purportedly the true story of how Congressman Charlie Wilson led the charge to fund the Afghan resistance, the book is both entertaining and disturbing. Well researched and detailed, it does not drag. The scary part for me, however, is that it proves what I have always said about our federal government: It is too big and out of control.

For this reason alone it is an important book. It shows how Washington works.... or doesn't. Or does in spite of itself in some ways.

Like many books interpreting history, it may be a little overboard in crediting Wilson with ending the cold war (almost single-handedly). But the proposition is intriguing and has at least some partial merit. What he accomplished was no less than astounding.

So when to my surprise I saw a trailer for Charlie Wilson's War coming to theaters, I was really looking forward to it, and hoping they did not botch the story. Just so you know, the film was a superb adaptation. Tom Hanks was good, of course, and Julia Roberts played her role well, but the screen play is what made it all work. It would have been so easy to have gotten lost in the details and to have made a lengthy, wearisome but "important" film. Instead it was a tight story with solid performances throughout. Kudos to director Mike Nichols (The Graduate, Catch-22) and a big round of applause for Philip Seymour Hoffman whose range of characterizations is astonishing. The contrast between Capote and Gust Avrokotos is remarkable.

The film had any number of places where it could have become derailed. Instead, Nichols maintained the discipline necessary to make this a highly entertaining and thought provoking experience.

I'll save my comments on No Country for another day.

Murderball

Tonight, watched Murderball, the incredible documentary about quadriplegic rugby. Or rather, a film about humanity. When our bodies experience limitations, our dreams do not need to be grounded as well. The film vividly portrays a world few of us are familiar with, yet it exists all around us. I refer not to the world of quad rugby, but to the forgotten masses who have been crippled by injury or disease. Murderball is just one of the outlets through which the handicapped express their passion for life. This is a gritty, inspired film and I recommend it wholeheartedly.

A review from Amazon.com:

More than merely a sports documentary or an inspirational profile of triumph over adversity, Murderball offers a refreshing and progressive attitude toward disability while telling unforgettable stories about uniquely admirable people. It's ostensibly a film about quadriplegic rugby (or "Murderball," as it was formerly known), in which players with at least some loss of physical function in all four limbs navigate modified wheelchairs in a hardcore, full-contact sport that takes them all the way to the Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece, in 2004. But as we get to know paralyzed or amputee players on Team USA like Andy Cohn, Scott Hogsett, Bob Lujano and charismatic team spokesman Mark Zupan, we come to understand that quad rugby is a saving grace for these determined competitors, who battle Team Canada coach (and former Team USA superstar) Joe Soares en route to the climactic contest in Athens. Simply put, Murderball is the best film to date about living with a severe disability, but codirectors Henry Alex Rubin and Dana Adam Shapiro avoid the sappy, inspirational sentiment that hampers nearly all mainstream films involving disability. By the time this blazing 85-minute film reaches its emotional conclusion, the issue of disability is almost irrelevant; these guys are as normal as anyone, and their life stories led to Murderball becoming the most critically acclaimed documentary of 2005. ~ Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Jurassic Park

An absolutely remarkable movie, from conception to completion. Masterful, exhiliarating and terrifying. Only criticism I would make is that last scene where the bones fell and just missed crushing the boy. How many near crushing experiences can one boy have in a two hour movie? Even though I knew the kid would survive -- rationally I knew this -- emotionally, it was no less terrifying and fraught with fear. This is the wonder of cinema.

Journal note ~ Dec 29, 1993

This past year's Blood Diamond felt the same. Just a few too many close calls and drawn out near death experiences. Supposedly it was dramatic, but after a while it is too much, distracting even. Dear Hollywood: lighten up. All we want is a good story. By the way, I've got more than a few up my sleeve, if you are interested.

Paths of Glory

This afternoon I decided to revisit Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, co-written and directed by Stanely Kubrick. This cold war classic was remarkable for its originality and dark comedy. "After all, we don't want to start a nuclear war unless we have to now, do we?" (Peter Sellers as Officer Mandrake)

It's hard to pinpoint the film that put Kubrick on the map as a director, but certainly all of his works demonstrate the power of his vision and unique genius. His films are both distinctive and daring.

One of my current top ten films of all time is Kubrick's Paths of Glory. It may have been the first film I wrote a review for on the Internet Movie Database. The following review is posted there, and at the end of this blog entry you may link to my reviews of several other films.

Early Kubrick film displays his profound skills of storytelling in film in remarkable and poignant World War One film.

I have placed this early Kubrick anti-war statement on my top ten list both for its originality, great acting, compelling story line, plot twists, and surprisingly beautiful and inspired ending. This one is a heart-breaker account of a moment in history that repeated itself endlessly in that horrific bloodfest called the trenches of World War I. To some extent Kubrick returned to the theme in various ways with Full Metal Jacket, but Kirk Douglas as Colonel Dax is perfect here, demonstrating the challenge of maintaining honor within a system that has turned values on its head. It is a crisis in the life and career of Colonel Dax, who has lived by the watchword of Duty with a capital D throughout his career, but has remained idealistic and faithful to his men. The army's absurd effort to capture "the Anthill" results in a tear in the fabric of his idealism. The ugliness he sees is an eye opener for both Dax and the audience, who sees the truth with tragic clarity.

Colonel Dax, identifying with his men, is an inspiration in contrast to an empty culture of power and prestige with no ethical base.

For additional film comments:

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The Harp of Burma

Finished watching The Harp of Burma (Biruma no tategoto) last night. Moving story of a Japanese soldier in Burma at the end of World War Two & the events that lead him to become a priest. During an early scene in the movie we see he is a sensitive man to begin with. In his last words to his comrades (who are returning to Japan) he states that he has committed himself to burying the dead and comforting those who are suffering.

Like the hero of this film we find ourselves in a broken world. We, too, must comfort our fellow sufferers.
June 24, 1993

Around 1990 or so my wife and I befriended a street person named Robert Lookup who lived in Duluth's Seaway Hotel. His life consisted primarily of watching movies and visiting the library. When I had first met him, he showed me the fruit of a major project he had undertaken. Robert was a lover of trains. Combining this passion with his love of movies, he had committed himself to watching every movie in the library and rating it based on the accuracy of its presentation of the trains therein.

For example, an Abbott and Costello film received demerits because while the story took place in Florida, on the wall was a Pennsylvania Railroad calendar. This would never happen, he emphatically stated. In retrospect, I would venture that no other movie goer of our generation ever noticed this faux pas.

I mention Robert because of his special love of obscure films with dark themes. The Harp of Burma was such a film, flowing over the screen with its tragic tale of a sensitive man awakened to the real horror of war. Without Robert's urging I would no doubt have never viewed this moving film. Robert was a sensitive man himself who no doubt identified with the hero.

As we read today's headlines, we understand that our 21st century world is no rose garden. It is a world littered with sorrows, with hurting people who need a message of hope. Let's commit ourselves to being part of the solution, and not part of the problem.

A Handful of Recommended Movies

I have a real problem with lists of the 100 best movies of all time. I've actually got two problems. First, the people who make these lists usually number them, as if the films can be numerically ordered. The second problem I have is that the lists are made by human beings who have personal biases, yet they claim that the films they say are best are literally and actually the best films ever, as if all viewers have the same identical tastes in film.

For these reason I cannot produce such a list. I have learned over the years that some films I like my family or friends may not like. And I've yawned through a few films that my friends said were great.

All that being said, I have quite a few films that I really do think are great. I have numbered a top ten list on my web site (http://www.enewman.biz/favorites.html) but it is really not a valid list because on any given day I can look at that list and think of another film that should be on the list. Oh well, c'est la vie.

If you are looking for ideas as regards what to watch next, here are some films I'd recommend. None of these listed here are action films. None are mindless diversions. Each is somewhat unique and/or special in some way. It's my hope you will enjoy them as thoroughly as I have over the years.

Educating Rita, featuring stellar performances by Michael Caine and Julie Walters.
The Tenth Man, starring Anthony Hopkins and based on a great short novel by Graham Greene.
Trip to Bountiful, starring oscar winner Geraldine Page, with an absolutely fabulous "I wish I could write like that" screenplay by playwright Horton Foote.
Groundhog Day, with Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell. Don't underestimate this film. Yes, it's hilarious but there is more here than meets the eye.
Woody Allen's Zelig is likewise both entertaining, but with a deeper aspect.
And finally, for this short list I mention About Schmidt, in which Jack Nicholson wrestles with the meaning of his life after retiring from an empty job that never lived up to the dreams of his youth.

If you like these, check out my website list for more of my favorite things.