Might as well finish this off:
6) Men In Black - As long as we all agree that the second film did not happen
7) Mars Attacks - Yeah, it has its weaknesses, but earns a place just for the scene where the Martians are playing the "We come in peace" recording as they blast everything to heck
8) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - I love the "So Long and Thanks for All the Fish" song
9) The Man With Two Brains - Because any list of comedy films without Steve Martin is just wrong
10) Tremors - Because the worms rule.
(Honorable mention, Bill and Ted's Excellent Adverture, Cherry 2000 [don't care what Rotten Tomatoes ranks it], Demolition Man [Stallone on a list of comedies is usually problematic], Critters 1 & 2 but not 3, A Boy and His Dog [just for that awesome final line of dialouge, Lilo and Stitch)
Friday, February 27, 2009
In case the Chronicle Goes Defunk, Here's My Article at SFGate.com
Memories are like weed darts: Some of them don't stick
Dean A. Anderson, Special to The Chronicle
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Walking my 9-year-old daughter home from school, I notice the great delight she takes in throwing weed darts. You may know what I'm talking about; it's a prolific weed throughout Sonoma County. She puts her thumb and forefinger together at the base of the weed and pulls up, plucking the darts to throw. She then flicks them at the back of whomever she is walking with (her sister, her brother, her father) to see how many darts will stick in the back of a shirt or in someone's hair.
I used to do the same thing as I waited at the bus stop when I was her age (as well as when I was a few years younger and a few years older). My family lived in a rural area of the county on an unpaved road with a dozen or so houses. Some mornings I waited 15 or 20 minutes at the stop for the bus. Of course, there were also mornings I saw the bus as I left the house and ran, hoping it wouldn't leave without me.
The following are the top five memories that come to mind when I think of our bus stop on Fulton Road and Raplee Terrace:
1) The weeds mentioned above.
2) Another weed with a head that would pop off when you twisted the stem just right.
3) Dark mornings. Because President Richard Nixon extended daylight-saving time, there were cold winter mornings when we wouldn't see the sun coming up till the bus was approaching Mark West Elementary School. I really couldn't have cared less at the time about breaking into the opponent's campaign headquarters -- making kids wait in the dark seemed the true impeachable act.
4) Kicking the bigger rocks on our gravel road from my house to the bus stop (and, of course, from the bus stop to my house). If the rock went in a ditch, it was lost. And, of course, I didn't want any other kid kicking MY rock.
5) Karen Cameron and Rachelle Merian repeatedly asking me to tell them whom I liked. I didn't tell them for a very long time. This was highly classified information that couldn't fall into the wrong hands. But day after day, they asked. It seemed their duty to collect all the data in our class about who liked whom. They needed this information because, well, I'm not sure why they needed to know, but it certainly seemed important to them.
Day after day, they asked, at the bus stop and on the walk home, with the promise that they would keep this information to themselves. No one would know. Their persistence paid off. Eventually, I told. And they told. The very person I most dreaded being told. The girl I liked.
So I had no choice to tell this, the cutest, funniest and kindest human being on the planet at that particular time, that I liked her, "You know, as a friend."
This was obviously a traumatic incident in my young life. That's why this memory had stuck with me. But I became curious. Would Karen and Rachelle remember this tumultuous event? Surely, something of this magnitude, they must. I decided to find out.
I had no problem getting in touch with Rachelle. After the bus stop years, in high school, I had driven her to school. Ever since our 20th high school reunion, we have kept in touch with Christmas cards and the occasional e-mail. I sent her a note asking for her bus stop memories.
In a phone call, she responded with these top five memories:
1) Her mother not walking with her to the bus stop.
Rachelle was much farther down the street than I, and she would have liked company for some of that walk, but her mother had to stay home with her younger brothers.
2) All the other kids that waited with us various times throughout the years: her older brothers, Randy and Ricky, and her sister Renee; my brother, Dale; the twins, Ronnie and Gary; and too many others to name, but the list would include Jack, David, Eddie and, of course, Karen.
3) The many times her grandfather driving along Fulton Road would slow down and wave. That made her feel quite special.
4) The mornings it rained and we all would take cover under the garage overhang of the last house on the street. But we would already be drenched from the walk.
5) The morning she had money to buy "The Boxcar Children" from the Scholastic Book Club. She wasn't usually given money to buy when book-order time came around, so this was a big deal. She had two quarters to pay for the book, and was playing with the money.
And what happened was what parents always warned would happen if you play with money. She dropped a quarter -- into the weeds. She didn't know what to do, so she threw the other quarter into the weeds, hoping it would find its companion. And it did. She heard them click and she found the quarters and bought the book.
This coin-finding trick never worked for her again.
You may notice that this list of memories makes no mention of her pleas to know my beloved (or more appropriate to the time, my "beliked"). When I asked her about the incident, she had no recollection of it.
(And upon further questioning, she was unable to recall the name of the girl her inquisition had dragged out of me, though she did remember some of the girls I liked in high school.)
It took a little more work to get in touch with Karen. After elementary school, she had gone to a different junior and senior high schools, and during that time moved off Raplee Terrace. I hadn't talked to her for decades. I checked with my mother for Karen's married name and her assurance that Karen was still in the area. After a calling a few wrong numbers, I finally reached her.
These are the memories that first came to her mind:
1) Our bus drivers, Mrs. Ward and Mrs. Albritton. (Both were moms of students at our school, Susan and Stephen, respectively, as I recall. Both were always threatening to give "tickets" for misconduct. I was never sure what these tickets would do, but it couldn't be good.)
2) Also the dark mornings.
3) Also the rainy mornings.
4) Being chased by chickens. Karen was also farther down the street than I was. I never encountered this fowl problem (there was a particularly nasty rooster, she recalled). She dislikes birds to this day because of these chickens.
5) During her kindergarten year, Karen broke her leg. She recalls struggling to get on the bus with the cast.
You might note once again, a glaring omission. When asked specifically about the afternoon when she and Rachelle implored me to share my heart, the moment my resolve broke and the consequences of it all, Karen had no recall.
I now know something more about those little weed darts my daughter throws, and that I used to throw (all right, I still throw them on occasion). They are wild oats. They are not indigenous to Sonoma County, but were brought long ago from Europe. The weeds with the pop tops are plantains.
These little factoids may stick with you, they may not. Like memories and wild oats thrown at the back, you just never know what will stick.
And you may wonder who it was that I had a crush on in the sixth grade. You're not hearing it from me.
Dean A. Anderson, Special to The Chronicle
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Walking my 9-year-old daughter home from school, I notice the great delight she takes in throwing weed darts. You may know what I'm talking about; it's a prolific weed throughout Sonoma County. She puts her thumb and forefinger together at the base of the weed and pulls up, plucking the darts to throw. She then flicks them at the back of whomever she is walking with (her sister, her brother, her father) to see how many darts will stick in the back of a shirt or in someone's hair.
I used to do the same thing as I waited at the bus stop when I was her age (as well as when I was a few years younger and a few years older). My family lived in a rural area of the county on an unpaved road with a dozen or so houses. Some mornings I waited 15 or 20 minutes at the stop for the bus. Of course, there were also mornings I saw the bus as I left the house and ran, hoping it wouldn't leave without me.
The following are the top five memories that come to mind when I think of our bus stop on Fulton Road and Raplee Terrace:
1) The weeds mentioned above.
2) Another weed with a head that would pop off when you twisted the stem just right.
3) Dark mornings. Because President Richard Nixon extended daylight-saving time, there were cold winter mornings when we wouldn't see the sun coming up till the bus was approaching Mark West Elementary School. I really couldn't have cared less at the time about breaking into the opponent's campaign headquarters -- making kids wait in the dark seemed the true impeachable act.
4) Kicking the bigger rocks on our gravel road from my house to the bus stop (and, of course, from the bus stop to my house). If the rock went in a ditch, it was lost. And, of course, I didn't want any other kid kicking MY rock.
5) Karen Cameron and Rachelle Merian repeatedly asking me to tell them whom I liked. I didn't tell them for a very long time. This was highly classified information that couldn't fall into the wrong hands. But day after day, they asked. It seemed their duty to collect all the data in our class about who liked whom. They needed this information because, well, I'm not sure why they needed to know, but it certainly seemed important to them.
Day after day, they asked, at the bus stop and on the walk home, with the promise that they would keep this information to themselves. No one would know. Their persistence paid off. Eventually, I told. And they told. The very person I most dreaded being told. The girl I liked.
So I had no choice to tell this, the cutest, funniest and kindest human being on the planet at that particular time, that I liked her, "You know, as a friend."
This was obviously a traumatic incident in my young life. That's why this memory had stuck with me. But I became curious. Would Karen and Rachelle remember this tumultuous event? Surely, something of this magnitude, they must. I decided to find out.
I had no problem getting in touch with Rachelle. After the bus stop years, in high school, I had driven her to school. Ever since our 20th high school reunion, we have kept in touch with Christmas cards and the occasional e-mail. I sent her a note asking for her bus stop memories.
In a phone call, she responded with these top five memories:
1) Her mother not walking with her to the bus stop.
Rachelle was much farther down the street than I, and she would have liked company for some of that walk, but her mother had to stay home with her younger brothers.
2) All the other kids that waited with us various times throughout the years: her older brothers, Randy and Ricky, and her sister Renee; my brother, Dale; the twins, Ronnie and Gary; and too many others to name, but the list would include Jack, David, Eddie and, of course, Karen.
3) The many times her grandfather driving along Fulton Road would slow down and wave. That made her feel quite special.
4) The mornings it rained and we all would take cover under the garage overhang of the last house on the street. But we would already be drenched from the walk.
5) The morning she had money to buy "The Boxcar Children" from the Scholastic Book Club. She wasn't usually given money to buy when book-order time came around, so this was a big deal. She had two quarters to pay for the book, and was playing with the money.
And what happened was what parents always warned would happen if you play with money. She dropped a quarter -- into the weeds. She didn't know what to do, so she threw the other quarter into the weeds, hoping it would find its companion. And it did. She heard them click and she found the quarters and bought the book.
This coin-finding trick never worked for her again.
You may notice that this list of memories makes no mention of her pleas to know my beloved (or more appropriate to the time, my "beliked"). When I asked her about the incident, she had no recollection of it.
(And upon further questioning, she was unable to recall the name of the girl her inquisition had dragged out of me, though she did remember some of the girls I liked in high school.)
It took a little more work to get in touch with Karen. After elementary school, she had gone to a different junior and senior high schools, and during that time moved off Raplee Terrace. I hadn't talked to her for decades. I checked with my mother for Karen's married name and her assurance that Karen was still in the area. After a calling a few wrong numbers, I finally reached her.
These are the memories that first came to her mind:
1) Our bus drivers, Mrs. Ward and Mrs. Albritton. (Both were moms of students at our school, Susan and Stephen, respectively, as I recall. Both were always threatening to give "tickets" for misconduct. I was never sure what these tickets would do, but it couldn't be good.)
2) Also the dark mornings.
3) Also the rainy mornings.
4) Being chased by chickens. Karen was also farther down the street than I was. I never encountered this fowl problem (there was a particularly nasty rooster, she recalled). She dislikes birds to this day because of these chickens.
5) During her kindergarten year, Karen broke her leg. She recalls struggling to get on the bus with the cast.
You might note once again, a glaring omission. When asked specifically about the afternoon when she and Rachelle implored me to share my heart, the moment my resolve broke and the consequences of it all, Karen had no recall.
I now know something more about those little weed darts my daughter throws, and that I used to throw (all right, I still throw them on occasion). They are wild oats. They are not indigenous to Sonoma County, but were brought long ago from Europe. The weeds with the pop tops are plantains.
These little factoids may stick with you, they may not. Like memories and wild oats thrown at the back, you just never know what will stick.
And you may wonder who it was that I had a crush on in the sixth grade. You're not hearing it from me.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Top Science Fiction Comedy Films
Watching the John Carpenter film "Dark Star" which has some interesting ideas, but such a low budget, it is tough going at times. I was thinking about what the top sci-fi-coms would be. I don't think this film would make the top ten.
So here is a the beginning of a list:
1) Dr. Stangelove - I think it qualifies for sci-fi because of the Doomsday device and this film is very funny, particularly the performance of Peter Sellers, but I also love George C. Scott and Slim Pickens.
2) Back to the Future - One of the best time travel scripts, it almost makes sense.
3) Galaxy Quest - The best Star Trek film after Wrath of Khan.
4) Buckeroo Banzai - If you don't get it... That's your problem.
5) Ghost Busters - Is this a horror comedy? A fantasy comedy? I'm counting it because of the gear they have "Don't Cross the Beams".
I'll have to figure out the other five later.
So here is a the beginning of a list:
1) Dr. Stangelove - I think it qualifies for sci-fi because of the Doomsday device and this film is very funny, particularly the performance of Peter Sellers, but I also love George C. Scott and Slim Pickens.
2) Back to the Future - One of the best time travel scripts, it almost makes sense.
3) Galaxy Quest - The best Star Trek film after Wrath of Khan.
4) Buckeroo Banzai - If you don't get it... That's your problem.
5) Ghost Busters - Is this a horror comedy? A fantasy comedy? I'm counting it because of the gear they have "Don't Cross the Beams".
I'll have to figure out the other five later.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
God of the City
To hear people talk sometimes, you’d think that God is barefoot, wearing a straw hat and bib overalls. You’ve probably never heard God described in that exact way, but you’ve probably heard this, “I feel most close to God when I’m out in nature.” People talk about how they don’t think they can find God in a church building but they can find God when they’re camping.
You get the impression, from this kind of talk, that cities must all have a “God Free Zone” sign (like cities with “Drug Free Zone” and “Nuclear Free Zone” signs) and that God honors those posted signs. Sadly, drugs get past those signs, and I don’t think a sign would stop a launched thermonuclear missile. Fortunately, even if someone posted a “God Free Zone” sign, I think God would pass it by. He’s not just a country God. He is the God of the City.
I was thinking of this while watching a recent movie, Paris, Je T’Aime (2006). The film is really a series of very short films made by a variety of prominent writers and directors. There are also a variety of actors, and the only character in all of the stories is the city of Paris.
I hope this doesn’t sound like damning with faint praise when I say one of the best things about this film is the establishing shots. “Establishing shots” in films are those short bits of footage that we see before the action proper begins, shots that establish where and the scene take place. This film has wonderful panoramic views of the City of Lights as well as more focused views of streets and alleys. We see the Eiffel Tower as well as an underground railway station. There are lovely views of the Seine River and markets and restaurants. A variety of cinematographers filmed a love letter to the capital of France.
The stories within the film are a bit hit and miss. I’m a big fan of the work of Joel and Ethan Coen (Raising Arizona, No Country for Old Men), and they wrote and directed a segment about a tourist getting to know some Parisians more intimately than he would have hoped. Their contribution to the film is funny and cynical, as one who knows their work would expect. Alexander Payne’s segment about a provincial American tourist seems like a female version of his About Schmidt. My favorite segment of the film comes from Isabel Coixet, a Spanish writer-director, about a man who considers leaving his wife but changes his mind after he learns that she has a terminal illness. A narrator notes that he began to act, again, like he loved his wife and soon discovered that he felt that love again. It captures quite well the thought C. S. Lewis had that we must act on God’s command to love before we will ever feel that love.
There was an old TV show which ended with a narrator saying, “There are eight million stories in the naked city.” In this film there are eighteen little stories in Paris, some quite wonderful -- and those that aren’t, are at least over quickly. And after watching the film, one does wish the Concorde was still flying. The title is accurate; the film makers obviously love the place.
Other cities have received cinematic Valentines through the years.
On the Town (1949) with Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra was one of the first musicals to film on location in New York City. The film follows three sailors on leave who explore the big city where “the Bronx is up and Battery’s down and the people ride in a hole in the ground.” The film was directed by Kelly and Stanley Donen and written by Adolph Green and Betty Comden -- the same team that made Singin’ in the Rain. It’s funny and has great song and dance numbers. And it is one of many films that make NYC look like heaven on earth (which could be set alongside films such as The French Connection and Serpico that picture the city as hell on earth.)
Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita (1960) opens with a wonderful image of a helicopter carrying a statue of Jesus over the city of Rome. The arms of Jesus are open wide, and the look on the face of the statue is one of love. Throughout the film we see characters that are lost and confused, but we remember that opening image that intimated that these characters are being looked at tenderly from above. And again, after watching the film, the viewer wants to go online to see how cheap one can get airfare to Rome.
Steve Martin’s L.A. Story was obviously made with Fellini’s film, parodying that famous opening shot. The film mocks the pretensions of the rich and famous of the film world, but also highlights the wonderful museums and quirky architecture, and even finds beauty in the freeways.
There is even a film that pays loving tribute to the city of Santa Rosa. There are many reasons to see Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt (1943), from the master’s trademark chills to Thornton Wilder’s subtle screenplay to Joseph Cotten’s chilling portrayal of a killer. But if you live in Sonoma County, the chief attraction of the film may be to see World War II era Santa Rosa, from the library to the train station. It was a small city then, but a city nonetheless. (Hitchcock obviously loved the area. He came up again to film The Birds [1963].)
These films capture the beauty of cities, and that beauty is not separate from the presence of God. The most wonderful thing about cities is the abundance of people and their creations, and those people were made in the image of God.
Scripture makes it clear that God loves cities and cares about them deeply.
In Luke 19: 41 – 44 we find Jesus weeps when He looks over the city of Jerusalem because the people of the city are like sheep without a shepherd.
And if we look at the description of God’s final creation in Revelation 21 (verses 9 – 14), the place He made for us to enjoy for all eternity, we find that He made a city:
“One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues came and said to me, "Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb." And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. It shone with the glory of God, and its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal. It had a great, high wall with twelve gates, and with twelve angels at the gates. On the gates were written the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. There were three gates on the east, three on the north, three on the south and three on the west. The wall of the city had twelve foundations, and on them were the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.”
So the next time you think that you can only find God by a mountain stream, on the desert sand or on a snow capped peak, remember…in the seediest hotels in the darkest parts of Gotham, one can usually find a Gideon Bible.
You get the impression, from this kind of talk, that cities must all have a “God Free Zone” sign (like cities with “Drug Free Zone” and “Nuclear Free Zone” signs) and that God honors those posted signs. Sadly, drugs get past those signs, and I don’t think a sign would stop a launched thermonuclear missile. Fortunately, even if someone posted a “God Free Zone” sign, I think God would pass it by. He’s not just a country God. He is the God of the City.
I was thinking of this while watching a recent movie, Paris, Je T’Aime (2006). The film is really a series of very short films made by a variety of prominent writers and directors. There are also a variety of actors, and the only character in all of the stories is the city of Paris.
I hope this doesn’t sound like damning with faint praise when I say one of the best things about this film is the establishing shots. “Establishing shots” in films are those short bits of footage that we see before the action proper begins, shots that establish where and the scene take place. This film has wonderful panoramic views of the City of Lights as well as more focused views of streets and alleys. We see the Eiffel Tower as well as an underground railway station. There are lovely views of the Seine River and markets and restaurants. A variety of cinematographers filmed a love letter to the capital of France.
The stories within the film are a bit hit and miss. I’m a big fan of the work of Joel and Ethan Coen (Raising Arizona, No Country for Old Men), and they wrote and directed a segment about a tourist getting to know some Parisians more intimately than he would have hoped. Their contribution to the film is funny and cynical, as one who knows their work would expect. Alexander Payne’s segment about a provincial American tourist seems like a female version of his About Schmidt. My favorite segment of the film comes from Isabel Coixet, a Spanish writer-director, about a man who considers leaving his wife but changes his mind after he learns that she has a terminal illness. A narrator notes that he began to act, again, like he loved his wife and soon discovered that he felt that love again. It captures quite well the thought C. S. Lewis had that we must act on God’s command to love before we will ever feel that love.
There was an old TV show which ended with a narrator saying, “There are eight million stories in the naked city.” In this film there are eighteen little stories in Paris, some quite wonderful -- and those that aren’t, are at least over quickly. And after watching the film, one does wish the Concorde was still flying. The title is accurate; the film makers obviously love the place.
Other cities have received cinematic Valentines through the years.
On the Town (1949) with Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra was one of the first musicals to film on location in New York City. The film follows three sailors on leave who explore the big city where “the Bronx is up and Battery’s down and the people ride in a hole in the ground.” The film was directed by Kelly and Stanley Donen and written by Adolph Green and Betty Comden -- the same team that made Singin’ in the Rain. It’s funny and has great song and dance numbers. And it is one of many films that make NYC look like heaven on earth (which could be set alongside films such as The French Connection and Serpico that picture the city as hell on earth.)
Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita (1960) opens with a wonderful image of a helicopter carrying a statue of Jesus over the city of Rome. The arms of Jesus are open wide, and the look on the face of the statue is one of love. Throughout the film we see characters that are lost and confused, but we remember that opening image that intimated that these characters are being looked at tenderly from above. And again, after watching the film, the viewer wants to go online to see how cheap one can get airfare to Rome.
Steve Martin’s L.A. Story was obviously made with Fellini’s film, parodying that famous opening shot. The film mocks the pretensions of the rich and famous of the film world, but also highlights the wonderful museums and quirky architecture, and even finds beauty in the freeways.
There is even a film that pays loving tribute to the city of Santa Rosa. There are many reasons to see Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt (1943), from the master’s trademark chills to Thornton Wilder’s subtle screenplay to Joseph Cotten’s chilling portrayal of a killer. But if you live in Sonoma County, the chief attraction of the film may be to see World War II era Santa Rosa, from the library to the train station. It was a small city then, but a city nonetheless. (Hitchcock obviously loved the area. He came up again to film The Birds [1963].)
These films capture the beauty of cities, and that beauty is not separate from the presence of God. The most wonderful thing about cities is the abundance of people and their creations, and those people were made in the image of God.
Scripture makes it clear that God loves cities and cares about them deeply.
In Luke 19: 41 – 44 we find Jesus weeps when He looks over the city of Jerusalem because the people of the city are like sheep without a shepherd.
And if we look at the description of God’s final creation in Revelation 21 (verses 9 – 14), the place He made for us to enjoy for all eternity, we find that He made a city:
“One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues came and said to me, "Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb." And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. It shone with the glory of God, and its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal. It had a great, high wall with twelve gates, and with twelve angels at the gates. On the gates were written the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. There were three gates on the east, three on the north, three on the south and three on the west. The wall of the city had twelve foundations, and on them were the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.”
So the next time you think that you can only find God by a mountain stream, on the desert sand or on a snow capped peak, remember…in the seediest hotels in the darkest parts of Gotham, one can usually find a Gideon Bible.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Other Favorite Books I Read in 2008
January is just about over, so I guess I should stop dwelling on 2008 and move along. So a quick summary of my other favorite books I read last year.
If anyone was reading this, they might notice I haven't got to any novels yet. I read novels last year, just enjoyed the nonfiction more.
Part of the reason for this was political. Authors I've enjoyed in the past kept slipping in their political agenda with views quite different than mine. That's okay, but I'm just not entertained by attacks on my belief, especially unbalanced attacks. John Grisham is not an artist for the ages, but I've enjoyed some of his novels in the past, especially "A Time to Kill", "The Firm" and "The Testament". But "The Appeal" which glorified ambulance chasing lawyers and smeared corperations was stomach turning. I loved everything by Robert Harris including "Fatherland" and "Enigma", but "The Ghost", which had some clever plot twists and interesting observations on writing, was also a mean spirtited attack on Prime Minister Blair and President Bush.
I started reading Lee Child's Jack Reacher books last year and enjoyed many of them, especially "Killing Floor" and "The Enemy", but liberal sucker punches are found throughout them. I've been reading them to know better how I can write action and thrills. But I laughed out loud when Reacher found the tax returns of a dead old friend. His friend had given to PETA. Reacher thought that he didn't know much about the organization, but his friend was so thoughtful and rational, it must be a good organization. Yes, the organization that is trying to end fishing by popularizing the term "sea kittens" for tuna is thoughtful and rational.
So I found much more pleasure reading "Red Star Over Hollywood: The Film Colony's Long Romance with the Left" by Ronald Radosh and "Liberal Fascism" by Jonah Goldberg that thoughtfully explored and refuted much of what the media has been saying about the history of socialism. Yes, Virginia, there were communists in Hollywood and they did not have our best interests at heart. (And Joe MacCarthy did not pursue them, that was other Democrats in Washington.) And National Socialism was not a far right party, they were, as the name implys, socialists.
So back to reading new books in 2009. Wasn't too impressed with Carrie Fisher's "Wishful Drinking", but more Reacher and Sarah Vowell's "Wordy Shipmates' are to come.
If anyone was reading this, they might notice I haven't got to any novels yet. I read novels last year, just enjoyed the nonfiction more.
Part of the reason for this was political. Authors I've enjoyed in the past kept slipping in their political agenda with views quite different than mine. That's okay, but I'm just not entertained by attacks on my belief, especially unbalanced attacks. John Grisham is not an artist for the ages, but I've enjoyed some of his novels in the past, especially "A Time to Kill", "The Firm" and "The Testament". But "The Appeal" which glorified ambulance chasing lawyers and smeared corperations was stomach turning. I loved everything by Robert Harris including "Fatherland" and "Enigma", but "The Ghost", which had some clever plot twists and interesting observations on writing, was also a mean spirtited attack on Prime Minister Blair and President Bush.
I started reading Lee Child's Jack Reacher books last year and enjoyed many of them, especially "Killing Floor" and "The Enemy", but liberal sucker punches are found throughout them. I've been reading them to know better how I can write action and thrills. But I laughed out loud when Reacher found the tax returns of a dead old friend. His friend had given to PETA. Reacher thought that he didn't know much about the organization, but his friend was so thoughtful and rational, it must be a good organization. Yes, the organization that is trying to end fishing by popularizing the term "sea kittens" for tuna is thoughtful and rational.
So I found much more pleasure reading "Red Star Over Hollywood: The Film Colony's Long Romance with the Left" by Ronald Radosh and "Liberal Fascism" by Jonah Goldberg that thoughtfully explored and refuted much of what the media has been saying about the history of socialism. Yes, Virginia, there were communists in Hollywood and they did not have our best interests at heart. (And Joe MacCarthy did not pursue them, that was other Democrats in Washington.) And National Socialism was not a far right party, they were, as the name implys, socialists.
So back to reading new books in 2009. Wasn't too impressed with Carrie Fisher's "Wishful Drinking", but more Reacher and Sarah Vowell's "Wordy Shipmates' are to come.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A Couple of Other of My Favorite Books of 2008
I got into a bit of a Lincoln kick and read two very books about President #16, one from 2008 and one from 2007.
The more recent publication, James M. McPherson’s “Tried By War: Lincoln as Commander in Chief” focuses on Lincoln as the war time president. The thing I came out really appreciating about the man was his perseverance. Lincoln had to put up with generals who were at turns hardworking and self-serving, farsighted and foolish, brave and cautious.
His greatest frustration was the caution of his generals. Time and again he urges his generals to take the offensive, but they refuse to move until all the men and supplies are in place. But the generals never seem to believe enough men and supplies are in place, so the more mobile Confederates always seem to be at the advantage. Until he finds his men in Grant and Sherman.
I couldn’t help bet think of George W. Bush throughout the read. In spite of political pressures and military setbacks, both men held firm for victory. War is never tidy. But when it begins it is vitally important that the side of right wins. I believe right eventually won in the Civil War. And I pray that it will again, bringing freedom to the people of Iraq.
Andrew Ferguson’s “Land of Lincoln: Adventures in Abe’s America” is a very different kind of book. It is set modern America and Ferguson travels the country investigating the historical sites of Lincoln’s life and the tributes that have been made to him.
Many people have made Lincoln anew in their own image. Ferguson is at turns sentimental and savage as he interviews Lincoln imitators (I’m sorry, “presenters”), museum curators and especially historians.
The thing I found most interesting in the book was how everyone tried to make Lincoln in their own image; much in the same way as we try to make God and Jesus in our own image.
A fun and enlightening read.
The more recent publication, James M. McPherson’s “Tried By War: Lincoln as Commander in Chief” focuses on Lincoln as the war time president. The thing I came out really appreciating about the man was his perseverance. Lincoln had to put up with generals who were at turns hardworking and self-serving, farsighted and foolish, brave and cautious.
His greatest frustration was the caution of his generals. Time and again he urges his generals to take the offensive, but they refuse to move until all the men and supplies are in place. But the generals never seem to believe enough men and supplies are in place, so the more mobile Confederates always seem to be at the advantage. Until he finds his men in Grant and Sherman.
I couldn’t help bet think of George W. Bush throughout the read. In spite of political pressures and military setbacks, both men held firm for victory. War is never tidy. But when it begins it is vitally important that the side of right wins. I believe right eventually won in the Civil War. And I pray that it will again, bringing freedom to the people of Iraq.
Andrew Ferguson’s “Land of Lincoln: Adventures in Abe’s America” is a very different kind of book. It is set modern America and Ferguson travels the country investigating the historical sites of Lincoln’s life and the tributes that have been made to him.
Many people have made Lincoln anew in their own image. Ferguson is at turns sentimental and savage as he interviews Lincoln imitators (I’m sorry, “presenters”), museum curators and especially historians.
The thing I found most interesting in the book was how everyone tried to make Lincoln in their own image; much in the same way as we try to make God and Jesus in our own image.
A fun and enlightening read.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Bollywood Dickens - Slumdog Millionaire
The front row. That’s what I used to think was the ideal place to be in a movie theater, the summer after first grade when my sister worked at the Park Cinema across the street from Howarth Park. My sister worked at the theater and so I could get in free. The musical Oliver was playing for weeks, and I saw it several times -- always in the front row.
I enjoyed many things about that film: the music was wonderful, and I still occasionally listen to the sound track. Jack Wild, who played the Artful Dodger, was quite good, and he would go to star in one of my Saturday morning favorites, “H. R. Pufnstuf” (sadly, when I look back on that television program, I realize now it was heavily influenced by the drug culture of the time). I also had a crush on the woman who played Nancy (Shani Wallis, who went on to do very little else.)
But I think the greatest appeal of that film was the original Charles Dickens story. The original tale, of the orphan that begins in abject poverty, stumbles into the criminal underworld and then miraculously discovers love and wealth, has been brought to the screen in many forms. The great director David Lean (Bridge Over the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia) filmed a classic version of the story with Alec Guinness as Fagin. Roman Polanski (Chinatown, Rosemary’s Baby) had a darker take on the tale with Ben Kingsley as Fagin. Its polar opposite may be the Disney film with Oliver played by an animated kitty in Oliver and Company.
I’m thinking about this because I felt a bit like I relived that childhood experience last weekend. I was at the same theater, though it now has another name, the Rialto. The film had a different name as well, of course. This one is called Slumdog Millionaire. It is set in India and features a contestant in the Indian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” But in many ways, it is the same story.
Jamil and Salim, young boys in the slums of Mumbai, are orphaned when religious violence (Hindus attacking Muslims) takes the life of their mother. They struggle to survive on their own, joined by an orphan girl named Latika.
Like Dickens, the screen writer Simon Beaufoy (basing his screenplay on the novel by Vikas Swarup) does not shy away from the darkest shades of human nature and experience. This film is rated R and does present rather grim and violent scenes and images. But there is also hope.
Jamil goes through many horrendous experiences, but never gives up on the chance of finding love (quite like young Oliver Twist). Of course, the means of redemption in this film are quite different than in Dickens’ tale. Instead of redemption coming by way of a long lost relative, it comes through an appearance on a game show.
I’m not giving anything away that the studio publicity didn’t promote by telling you he appears on “Millionaire”. The poster for the film shows a question presented in the format of that TV show: “What does it take to find a lost love? A. Money, B. Luck, C. Smarts, D. Destiny”
The heroes of Dickens are rarely rich. They usually aren’t lucky for the majority of the novel. They aren’t necessarily even very bright. But ultimately, destiny is on their side.
In the film, Jamal’s brother Salim buys into the wisdom of the world that security can be found in wealth (their friend, Latika, to some degree buys into the same “wisdom”). Salim goes from the slum to a place of high position in the criminal world. But he comes to realize, perhaps too late, that only God offers true salvation. Jamil is not as “wise” as Salim. And that’s not a bad thing.
It reminds me of what Paul wrote concerning the church in I Corinthians 1, “Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise.”
One word about the director, Danny Boyle: his work is eclectic to say the least. His breakthrough film was Trainspotting, a rather sordid but witty film about heroin addicts. Probably his most financially successful film was 28 Days Later, a very scary zombie film. I’ve written about Millions, a heartwarming parable about children who discover a great treasure. All very good films in very different genres. This film may be his best.
I enjoyed many things about that film: the music was wonderful, and I still occasionally listen to the sound track. Jack Wild, who played the Artful Dodger, was quite good, and he would go to star in one of my Saturday morning favorites, “H. R. Pufnstuf” (sadly, when I look back on that television program, I realize now it was heavily influenced by the drug culture of the time). I also had a crush on the woman who played Nancy (Shani Wallis, who went on to do very little else.)
But I think the greatest appeal of that film was the original Charles Dickens story. The original tale, of the orphan that begins in abject poverty, stumbles into the criminal underworld and then miraculously discovers love and wealth, has been brought to the screen in many forms. The great director David Lean (Bridge Over the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia) filmed a classic version of the story with Alec Guinness as Fagin. Roman Polanski (Chinatown, Rosemary’s Baby) had a darker take on the tale with Ben Kingsley as Fagin. Its polar opposite may be the Disney film with Oliver played by an animated kitty in Oliver and Company.
I’m thinking about this because I felt a bit like I relived that childhood experience last weekend. I was at the same theater, though it now has another name, the Rialto. The film had a different name as well, of course. This one is called Slumdog Millionaire. It is set in India and features a contestant in the Indian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” But in many ways, it is the same story.
Jamil and Salim, young boys in the slums of Mumbai, are orphaned when religious violence (Hindus attacking Muslims) takes the life of their mother. They struggle to survive on their own, joined by an orphan girl named Latika.
Like Dickens, the screen writer Simon Beaufoy (basing his screenplay on the novel by Vikas Swarup) does not shy away from the darkest shades of human nature and experience. This film is rated R and does present rather grim and violent scenes and images. But there is also hope.
Jamil goes through many horrendous experiences, but never gives up on the chance of finding love (quite like young Oliver Twist). Of course, the means of redemption in this film are quite different than in Dickens’ tale. Instead of redemption coming by way of a long lost relative, it comes through an appearance on a game show.
I’m not giving anything away that the studio publicity didn’t promote by telling you he appears on “Millionaire”. The poster for the film shows a question presented in the format of that TV show: “What does it take to find a lost love? A. Money, B. Luck, C. Smarts, D. Destiny”
The heroes of Dickens are rarely rich. They usually aren’t lucky for the majority of the novel. They aren’t necessarily even very bright. But ultimately, destiny is on their side.
In the film, Jamal’s brother Salim buys into the wisdom of the world that security can be found in wealth (their friend, Latika, to some degree buys into the same “wisdom”). Salim goes from the slum to a place of high position in the criminal world. But he comes to realize, perhaps too late, that only God offers true salvation. Jamil is not as “wise” as Salim. And that’s not a bad thing.
It reminds me of what Paul wrote concerning the church in I Corinthians 1, “Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise.”
One word about the director, Danny Boyle: his work is eclectic to say the least. His breakthrough film was Trainspotting, a rather sordid but witty film about heroin addicts. Probably his most financially successful film was 28 Days Later, a very scary zombie film. I’ve written about Millions, a heartwarming parable about children who discover a great treasure. All very good films in very different genres. This film may be his best.
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