by Dean | Sep 6, 2018 | General
Alzheimer’s disease rages on. Tons of money will be needed for the care, at home and in nursing homes, for those afflicted with it. But this is not all that poses a problem.
So many people in America, Europe and elsewhere have borne so few children that when they come down with Alzheimer’s or some other dementia, or suffer a debilitating stroke, they will enter a nursing home without a relative’s solicitude. (This has been written about by William Voegeli.) The spouses of these people will be dead or at least cripplingly ill, and siblings will be sparse. No family members will be checking up on these patients, no intercessions will be made. If there is nursing-home abuse or neglect, no communication about it will ever be forthcoming; the patient himself cannot protest it. We must determine what is to be done about this—and about the necessary funding for care—or else . . .
Euthanasia? Yes. There will be far more of it in both Europe and America. And, to get even further down to brass tacks, mass suicides might occur once aging people realize that dementia is starting to affect them. They’ll be terrified of the future.
Past centuries faced their nightmares. This will be our nightmare. What, really, would dissuade people from seeing suicide as the solution?
by Dean | Sep 3, 2018 | General
To the Indians in James Cruze‘s The Covered Wagon, a 1923 silent film, the plow is a white man’s weapon for devastating the land. But in truth the plow is a symbol for technological and material progress, progress those in the wagon caravans here, headed for Oregon, are hopeful of achieving.
Nothing captures Old West (though pre-Civil War) naturalism like a plains-dominated silent movie. And in this Western, naturalism is bolstered by some grim aggressiveness. Its protag, Will Banion (J. Warren Kerrigan), is reputed to be a cattle thief but is actually a decent man who will be exonerated. Not so Sam Woodhull (Alan Hale), Will’s rival, whose wild violence surpasses that of the Indians. I repeat: grim aggressiveness. Woodhull murders an Indian who rightly demands payment for a ferry ride. Pretty Molly Wingate (Lois Wilson) is the first one hit by a brave’s arrow in a nascent attack. No small amount of honesty in all this. Cruze holds the movie, an epic, together with careful directing, with effective camera use; and the intelligent editing of Dorothy Arzner shapes the picture as well. Notwithstanding it’s too bad two horses had to drown in a river-crossing scene, my eyes were glued to the grand images in The Covered Wagon.
by Dean | Aug 30, 2018 | General
The 1969 Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, a Paul Mazursky film, examines the late Sixties’ trends of “liberation”, such as touchy-feely therapy, as two married couples try them on for size. Only slightly satirical, it’s a humane work with competent performances by Dyan Cannon and Elliott Gould, but it’s also a garrulous bore which doesn’t really offer a proper resolution to the characters’ contretemps. Instead we get a flimsy what-the-world-needs-now-is-love conclusion (with Jackie DeShannon’s song on the soundtrack).
An Unmarried Woman is still the Mazursky movie to see, not this one.
Cover of Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice
by Dean | Aug 28, 2018 | General
You might want to read an article for the right-leaning website, The American Thinker, called “Was Mollie Tibbetts the Victim of Mexican Machismo?” by Jeannie DeAngelis (Aug. 26)
This would be the Mexican machismo of the illegal immigrant, Cristhian Bahena Rivera, who evidently murdered Miss Tibbetts. To be sure, most illegals would never perpetrate such an act, but just how much machismo do we want to cross the U.S. border or overstay a visa? Machismo, I’m sure, is very averse to being rejected by women.
“Hold on, Dean,” a detractor might say. “Immigrant machismo is not claiming the lives of a lot of American women!” Maybe not. The mainstream news media wouldn’t tell us if it was. Even so, what if border security weakens again and continued influxes of Latin American immigrants lead to frequent murders of American women? What if “catch and release” gets underway again?
Miss DeAngelis writes, “For the record, in 2016 alone, an estimated seven women a day lost their lives in Mexico [a much smaller country than the United States, remember] to femicide in public locations.” But, hey, don’t worry. The felony rate of illegal immigrants is gratifyingly lower than that of American citizens, right? Irrelevant! So says Daniel John Sobieski, another American Thinker writer, and he’s right. He avers, “The murder rate for illegal aliens should be zero because none of them should be here . . . ” (Aug. 27)
by Dean | Aug 26, 2018 | General
Detective Barney Nolan is oddly quiet as precinct bookings and other activity go on around him in 1954’s Shield for Murder, and no wonder. Nolan himself has just committed a capital offense: he murdered a bookie’s runner. Enacted with scary power by Edmond O’Brien, who co-directed this pic with Howard W. Koch, the wayward cop will do anything to enrich and protect himself. There’s a lot of ugly truth his brunette girlfriend (Maria English) has yet to find out about him, but she’s on her way. And he ain’t the guy flirty Carolyn Jones should have tried to pick up in a bar.
Two directors have turned out a well-made potboiler, an exciting one. Violent and disturbing too. There is an estimable shootout scene at an indoor swimming pool, and an almost Bonnie and Clyde-like shooting of a criminal. What’s more, there is something rather grand about Shield, but what is it? Maybe it’s that Barney is so diligent in the crummy things he does while we know perfectly well he is destined to be wholly defeated.
by Dean | Aug 21, 2018 | General
She who may have been the first female movie director, Alice Guy Blache, crafted the 1906 silent opus, The Birth, the Life and the Death of Christ (the Resurrection is there too). It’s only 30 minutes long and features many cast extras, filmed in naught but medium shots. The first tableau shows us there is indeed no room in the inn (it’s emphatic), after which a second tableau presents the Christ child asleep while invisible angels provide a lullaby. No pleasantness is provided at all, of course, when a farrago of exhausted cross-carrying and deep sorrow and anxiety fills the screen. Minutes later, though, Guy Blache does well with a risen Jesus, in the air, leaving the coffin and the tomb wherein his corpse had been laid.
In the nigh 12-minute Falling Leaves (1912), Guy Blache does well again—the flick is sensibly shot—and we get to see the choice features of a bourgeois home and clothing in 1912. But the movie whitewashes reality, and yet . . . oh well. It is still quite a curio with some loveliness.
by Dean | Aug 18, 2018 | General
Image via Wikipedia
Seemingly a straight-to-DVD product, The Parable of the Christ (2006), by George Jiha, could have been better acted and better directed, in that order, but after seeing it five times I now consider it a commendable film. Mick Shane is incisive and pleasantly subdued as the almost morally perfect lover and then husband of a prostitute he calls Violet (real name: Lucy), played by Sylvie Hoffer. Indisputably Hoffer is beautiful–and capable of real sweetness–but her acting is poor, as is that of several other cast members. Jiha’s bright story has the Shane character, Josh, fall in love with and actually start spying on Violet before he learns she is a hooker. Subsequently he befriends her and the two go out on platonic dates. Josh is not interested in sex, albeit Violet, after Josh’s kindness to her, is—and she can no more depersonalize Josh than he can depersonalize her. Not long after he tells Violet he loves her, Josh proposes marriage. It is only after the wedding that they have sex.
Happy times do not last, though. The former prostitute has a life-threatening venereal disease and she unwittingly infects her husband with it. Both she and Josh are now dying, but Josh directs no blame at Violet. Remorseful, Violet runs away from Josh, though not for very long. It pleases Violet’s husband, the “Christ” of Jiha’s film, that Violet has bloomed, has changed, via his love-giving, and he is content, well, to die for her. And die he does. He and Violet are granted immortality, however, being reunited in Paradise. There is transcendence, then, and their love need not perish.
It is valid to say that Josh is not really a Christ figure–he does spy on Violet, after all–or that he is only a partial Christ figure. To be as precise as possible, he is simply a character in a parable who loves his inamorata with a Christlike love. Violet is “reborn” because of him, although it would seem she is reborn also because of something else since, after she dies, she makes it to Heaven. Perhaps she is the Mary Magdalene to Josh’s Christ-man (notwithstanding Josh is not the one who takes her to Heaven) and so is free to enter the Kingdom. Mirabile dictu, she is made a Christian while Josh, with his Christlike love, already is one.
Nonverbal friendship and marital love scenes in Parable are frequently trite, although the final sequence in Heaven is lovely. The talking scenes are the ones that matter. . .
The Parable of the Christ has its assets. It isn’t boring. Jiha has something to say and says it in a tasteful and charming way. Some may find the film pallid, but after five viewings I don’t think it is. It has its own vitality. It deserves to be seen.
by Dean | Aug 16, 2018 | General
Medicare-for-all, Mr. Sanders?
No doubt the socialists among us believe we can have such a thing, and, truth to tell . . . we can. In fact we can something far better than Medicare—but not through socialism. It can be attained through spending cuts (and, yes, entitlement cuts), a reasonable surtax on the well-to-do, and the elimination of government waste. Medicare and Medicaid are stupidly, egregiously wasteful; and little have politicians cared. They don’t sufficiently care about spending cuts either. Correlatively, they’re unconcerned about dismayingly high medical costs for the lower middle class and even the poor. THEY think the answer for the poor is Medicaid. It isn’t.
Senator Elizabeth Warren is wasting her time proposing that the U.S. nationalize all billion-dollar businesses. It’s an unserious idea at a time when politicians’ unseriousness could become the bane of our existence.
by Dean | Aug 14, 2018 | General
Mountains and broad clouds in a blue sky make a great photographic difference between one Western film and another, and so we have the Henry Hathaway piece from 1958, From Hell to Texas, looking more handsome than his piece from 1969, True Grit. Both, however, are knowingly directed and edited, notwithstanding True Grit contains the better tale. Hell, even so, is no hell to sit through as it tells of a cordial saddle tramp (Don Murray) who is weary of being treated like, well, a nineteenth century black man. He is being chased by an unjust accuser (R.G. Armstrong), convinced that Murray murdered the man’s feisty son and not that the whippersnapper fell on his own knife. A fine gun handler, Murray has nevertheless never killed a man until he shoots down a paid swine. It isn’t something he would ever get used to.
It’s an agreeable Western with some dandy personalities, such as those of Armstrong and Chill Wills, even though more vitality springs up when Jay C. Flippen (as Jake Leffertfinger) is on screen than when anyone else is. It makes From Hell to Texas pretty robust.
by Dean | Aug 9, 2018 | General
- It pleases me to report I was able to see a filmed production of Neil LaBute‘s play, Reasons to be Pretty (2008), on YouTube. It was mounted by the Lee Strasberg Theater and Film Institute.
- The plot purveys for us the hurt Steph, a young woman whose lover, Greg, remarked to another person that Steph has a regular face (not a pretty one). This news finds its way to Steph, and she is infuriated. She walks out on Greg, but two married friends begin to have even worse troubles—the fellow likes a hottie—with residual vexations thrown upon Greg.
- This is meant to be a serious play, but Reasons to be Pretty is annoyingly slight in its meaning and content. What it says about physical appearance is not very important and quite predictable. Even so, it is one of LaBute’s few palatable artworks. Although it despises the proclivities of young men, it throws darts at those of both sexes, but without misanthropy. Properly structured, it is incessantly engaging, and free of the subpar characterizations in The Shape of Things and the lousy film Your Friends and Neighbors. To me it’s plebeian fun, albeit it should be more than that. Re the acting in the filmed production, I particularly enjoyed Paul Rush and Zoe Sidney (Steph).
