James Corbin (Francis Lederer) has a deep, dark secret. Two, actually. The first is that the woman in his paintings is not his model, Helen North (Linda Stirling). The body might be, but the face is the face of a woman from his past. The second is that his name is not really Corbin. It's Corbet. The rather infamous Corbet who was tried for and acquitted of murdering his first model - the woman in his paintings. Then Helen turns up dead on the river and the questions begin again. Determined to discover his secrets, Helen's actress sister named Linda (Ann Rutherford) gets herself hired as Corbin's latest model. As time goes on, she finds herself stepping deeper and deeper into murky waters. What kind of man is this brooding, talented artist? Is he a murderer? Or is some unknown enemy trying to frame him?
This is a fairly impressive movie, considering when it was filmed. The production values are decent. It seems to be an odd sort of cross between the film noir genre and an Agatha Christie story. Definitely dark, dramatic, and a little bit of a psychological thriller in parts, it still manages to hold onto a bit of the good old-fashioned mystery story.
Taken as a forties B movie, the acting and especially the writing are pretty good. Lederer plays a marvelous Corbin (with the exception of a few rather strangely-directed scenes), and Rutherford pulls off sweet and spunky Linda better than a lot of actresses I've seen. The exposition is particularly well done. In general, conversations reveal only as much as the viewer needs to know. On top of that, I never felt like I was listening to a voice-over. (Well, except for the opening line. But that really is a voice-over.) The Madonna's Secret shows the story as it is without taking the time to make sure everybody knows exactly what's going on at all times. That's part of the charm of the film noir genre: One can never be too sure that one didn't miss something important.
The other film noir elements in this movie are pretty obvious. It's dark, with a conflicted main character (who may or may not be bad) and a girl who ultimately finds herself in over her head. There's also a sexy temptress and, of course, crime in the mix. But the crime part is also a bit like an Agatha Christie murder mystery as well. Clues are established as to who might be killing these girls, but these clues are subtle enough that they don't construct neon signs pointing to the murderer. (At least, I hope not. I totally missed them until the last scene of the movie. Of course, that could be because I didn't want to think that that person was the murderer. But I'd better shut up now; that's getting into spoiler territory.)
Judged by the standards of its peers (both in time and in genre), this movie is pretty decent. The production values are impressively high for such an old and evidently cheap movie, and the slight mixing of genres is interesting and well-done enough to earn The Madonna's Secret a spot on the list of old movies that are worth someone's time.
My Rating: T (frightening scenes, thematic elements)
Showing posts with label drama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drama. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Onegin (1999)
Onegin (Ralph Fiennes) is a lonely, bored, spoilt aristocrat. He has no real friends, a cash supply that can no longer support his decadent lifestyle, and absolutely no goals in life. Then his uncle dies and leaves him an inheritance that includes both money and a country estate. Onegin leaves St. Petersburg for this estate - and, once there, decides to stay. Suddenly life seems better. He makes a close friend and meets a beautiful young lady named Natalya (Liv Tyler). Can a man ever really change? Or does a long life of sophistication and pride leave him without the backbone to alter his future?
This movie really hasn't much story development. At least, compared with the five to eight hour masterpieces made by the BBC. Suffice it to say that the novel on which Onegin is based was written in verse - and that this is highly appropriate in light of the poetic justice that is meted out at the end. Choices - some good and some bad - are paramount. This is true with the choices made by the filmmakers as well.
Onegin moves at a dreamlike pace in parts. The movie is really only about an hour and forty-five minutes long, but it seems much longer. This is helped in part by the frequent use of slow-motion filming. In general, slow motion should not be used in movies. It jerks the viewer out of the movie and into his/her seat and lends a very melodramatic atmosphere to whatever scene upon which it has been inflicted. The slow motion in Onegin, on the other hand, is sometimes used in good taste. Feelings like boredom and despair are portrayed well by the use of slow motion. But the technique is used too frequently, and it becomes evident that slow motion is being used to create the illusion of a longer movie.
Having said all that, one of the most redeeming qualities of the movie is that it is visually quite pretty. The filmmakes chose Liv Tyler as the lead female role. Normally a bad actress and a bit strange looking, she fits Tatyana's part perfectly and is absolutely gorgeous. Her clothes and hair are stunning throughout the movie. She shines particularly brightly in the last few scenes of the movie, when her hair is not as severely twisted and her clothes are richer in color and texture. The choice of setting is very pretty as well. The Russian countryside is beautiful in both the winter and summer scenes.
Finally, the filmmakers chose to convey as much as possible visually and through dialogues that would naturally take place. For example, we see rather than are told that Onegin is a ladies' man (although I personally think this could have been left out, it's handled rather delicately). Later, Tatyana speaks of her troubles to no one, but what passes through her mind is evident by what she does (again, this could have been skipped or shown in a more family-friendly way). This is a good approach for a filmmaker to take. There are few things in movies that are more cringe-inducing than when unnatural dialogue, which would never have taken place in real life, is used to explain to the viewer certain plots developments. Like slow motion filming, such unnatural dialogue almost inevitably tears the viewer from the story.
In all, Onegin is a strange mixture of good and bad choices. This is evident in the story (which I will not reveal for spoiler reasons), but it is also evident in the way in which the filmmakers made the movie. The slow motion is sometimes effective - and sometimes not. The use of "show, don't tell" is effective - but also a bit risqué. In other words, it's a flawed but interesting movie, perfect for anyone willing to spend a slice of time on watching the consequences of choice.
My Rating: MT (bedroom scene between a man and wife, sexual content, sexual references , violence)
Note: Could be appropriate for younger teens if a few scenes are skipped
This movie really hasn't much story development. At least, compared with the five to eight hour masterpieces made by the BBC. Suffice it to say that the novel on which Onegin is based was written in verse - and that this is highly appropriate in light of the poetic justice that is meted out at the end. Choices - some good and some bad - are paramount. This is true with the choices made by the filmmakers as well.
Onegin moves at a dreamlike pace in parts. The movie is really only about an hour and forty-five minutes long, but it seems much longer. This is helped in part by the frequent use of slow-motion filming. In general, slow motion should not be used in movies. It jerks the viewer out of the movie and into his/her seat and lends a very melodramatic atmosphere to whatever scene upon which it has been inflicted. The slow motion in Onegin, on the other hand, is sometimes used in good taste. Feelings like boredom and despair are portrayed well by the use of slow motion. But the technique is used too frequently, and it becomes evident that slow motion is being used to create the illusion of a longer movie.
Having said all that, one of the most redeeming qualities of the movie is that it is visually quite pretty. The filmmakes chose Liv Tyler as the lead female role. Normally a bad actress and a bit strange looking, she fits Tatyana's part perfectly and is absolutely gorgeous. Her clothes and hair are stunning throughout the movie. She shines particularly brightly in the last few scenes of the movie, when her hair is not as severely twisted and her clothes are richer in color and texture. The choice of setting is very pretty as well. The Russian countryside is beautiful in both the winter and summer scenes.
Finally, the filmmakers chose to convey as much as possible visually and through dialogues that would naturally take place. For example, we see rather than are told that Onegin is a ladies' man (although I personally think this could have been left out, it's handled rather delicately). Later, Tatyana speaks of her troubles to no one, but what passes through her mind is evident by what she does (again, this could have been skipped or shown in a more family-friendly way). This is a good approach for a filmmaker to take. There are few things in movies that are more cringe-inducing than when unnatural dialogue, which would never have taken place in real life, is used to explain to the viewer certain plots developments. Like slow motion filming, such unnatural dialogue almost inevitably tears the viewer from the story.
In all, Onegin is a strange mixture of good and bad choices. This is evident in the story (which I will not reveal for spoiler reasons), but it is also evident in the way in which the filmmakers made the movie. The slow motion is sometimes effective - and sometimes not. The use of "show, don't tell" is effective - but also a bit risqué. In other words, it's a flawed but interesting movie, perfect for anyone willing to spend a slice of time on watching the consequences of choice.
My Rating: MT (bedroom scene between a man and wife, sexual content, sexual references , violence)
Note: Could be appropriate for younger teens if a few scenes are skipped
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
The Handmaid's Tale (1985)
(Written by Margaret Atwood.) Offred is a handmaid to Serena Joy, the wife of a Commander. But this isn't biblical times, and it isn't even as far east as Europe. Following a disaster of almost apocalyptic proportions, a group of heavily armed rebels has destroyed the government of the United States. The country is now called Gilead, and it is ruled according to fear and distrust. Women are taken out of the workforce and are assigned various rigid roles in society. Some are housekeepers called "Marthas." Some are the "Wives." Still others are "Handmaids" - childbearers who are not married to the children's fathers. In a society almost bereft of fertility, the burden of producing the next generation falls to these.
This book is very puzzling. At first, it seems very anti-organized religion - particularly anti-Catholic. The way the Handmaids are required to dress seems nearly identical to the habit the Daughters of Charity used to wear. The distorted view of sexuality - for procreation only - is one often attributed to the Catholic Church. The Gileadean regime uses the Bible to put a moral price tag on what it's doing. Those are only a few examples. But deeper into the book, it's revealed that things are not quite as they seem at first glance.
Gilead seems to be more interested in using vague hints and trappings of Christianity rather than any real form of Christianity itself. For example, the Bible is used as moral backup for what the regime wants to do. But the Bible is not made available to most of the people - and many "quotes" are either distorted or borrowed from another source. In short, the regime alters the evidence (the Bible) to fit its arguments, not the other way around.
So Gilead uses a vague idea (again, the Bible) that is typically considered to have moral weight in order to justify what is being done. For the most part, the regime gets away with this because no one has the tools to argue with them. Only trustworthy people in high places even have access to the Bible. In other words, the regime's argument is built on a foundation that is unassailable only because it is simply unavailable. That sounds more like relativism than Christianity, which has the widely available Word of God as its backup.
Any relativist moral argument eventually breaks down because it cannot have real evidence on which to build its foundation. Arguing that "what's okay for me doesn't have to be okay for you" is totally illogical. Not because it's false per se, but because, by its very nature, it has nothing to back it up. Think about that for a second. To what moral authority can relativists appeal in order to back up their claim that "good" is, in truth, relative? They have none; the whole point of relativism is to do away with moral authority entirely. Unlike modern relativists, the Gileadean regime in The Handmaid's Tale understands this need of evidence. Its response is to obfuscate and mutilate a known, trusted source. However, the essentials still remain the same. Relativists have no authority on their side, and the Gileadeans have only an invented authority.
Whether Atwood intended to weave this speculation on relativism into her book or not, the parallel can certainly be drawn. She is apparently an agnostic, and might possibly be anti-organized religion. But whatever her attitudes on religion, the complexity of her invented world and the interesting way in which Atwood deals with its problems make this a worthwhile read.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, sex scenes (not too graphic), reference to homosexuality, violence)
This book is very puzzling. At first, it seems very anti-organized religion - particularly anti-Catholic. The way the Handmaids are required to dress seems nearly identical to the habit the Daughters of Charity used to wear. The distorted view of sexuality - for procreation only - is one often attributed to the Catholic Church. The Gileadean regime uses the Bible to put a moral price tag on what it's doing. Those are only a few examples. But deeper into the book, it's revealed that things are not quite as they seem at first glance.
Gilead seems to be more interested in using vague hints and trappings of Christianity rather than any real form of Christianity itself. For example, the Bible is used as moral backup for what the regime wants to do. But the Bible is not made available to most of the people - and many "quotes" are either distorted or borrowed from another source. In short, the regime alters the evidence (the Bible) to fit its arguments, not the other way around.
So Gilead uses a vague idea (again, the Bible) that is typically considered to have moral weight in order to justify what is being done. For the most part, the regime gets away with this because no one has the tools to argue with them. Only trustworthy people in high places even have access to the Bible. In other words, the regime's argument is built on a foundation that is unassailable only because it is simply unavailable. That sounds more like relativism than Christianity, which has the widely available Word of God as its backup.
Any relativist moral argument eventually breaks down because it cannot have real evidence on which to build its foundation. Arguing that "what's okay for me doesn't have to be okay for you" is totally illogical. Not because it's false per se, but because, by its very nature, it has nothing to back it up. Think about that for a second. To what moral authority can relativists appeal in order to back up their claim that "good" is, in truth, relative? They have none; the whole point of relativism is to do away with moral authority entirely. Unlike modern relativists, the Gileadean regime in The Handmaid's Tale understands this need of evidence. Its response is to obfuscate and mutilate a known, trusted source. However, the essentials still remain the same. Relativists have no authority on their side, and the Gileadeans have only an invented authority.
Whether Atwood intended to weave this speculation on relativism into her book or not, the parallel can certainly be drawn. She is apparently an agnostic, and might possibly be anti-organized religion. But whatever her attitudes on religion, the complexity of her invented world and the interesting way in which Atwood deals with its problems make this a worthwhile read.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, sex scenes (not too graphic), reference to homosexuality, violence)
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
On A Smile as Big as the Moon
Mike Kersjes (John Corbett) teaches a special ed class at a high school. He has a special group of kids with disabilities ranging from Down syndrome to the "alphabet" kind like ADHD. One day, the kids go on a field trip to a museum - and come back with pamphlets advertising Space Camp. A place for "gifted" students, Space Camp sounds like the coolest thing ever to more than one of the kids. So Mike decides to make it happen. Unfortunately, he has to 1) get his superiors to okay the trip, 2) get Space Camp to agree, 3) raise enough money, and 4) get the kids into the proper physical and especially mental state. It ain't gonna be easy.
All right, I'll just start off by saying this is a Hallmark movie. But it's so much better than one of their typical movies that I forgot it was even Hallmark. Or I would have forgotten if there weren't so many Hallmark card commercials.
Back to my review. The acting, writing, and story are amazing for a TV movie. A Smile as Big as the Moon wouldn't win any Academy Awards if it was a theater release, but it's really more than just passable. At least one of the kids is played by someone with the real disability, and the others seem to be pretty darn good actors. John Corbett is good as Mike. And that's pretty much everybody who has a big part.
So the production is good - and the story is better. People so often forget that disabilities don't define people. Yes, psychologists, I'm looking at you. Special ed kids are so often marginalized just because they happen to have difficulty reading, concentrating, remembering, or even just comprehending. They get labeled so that everyone sees them as "Down syndromes with people" (so to speak) instead of "people with Down syndrome." Then the kids' development is stunted because they're told they "can't do that" because their brains or other parts of them work differently. The only words to describe that viewpoint are ones that I prefer not to use. A Smile as Big as the Moon tears down that horrible inversion by showing just how much kids are capable of achieving if they're only given the chance and a helping hand.
My Rating: OK (mild language)
All right, I'll just start off by saying this is a Hallmark movie. But it's so much better than one of their typical movies that I forgot it was even Hallmark. Or I would have forgotten if there weren't so many Hallmark card commercials.
Back to my review. The acting, writing, and story are amazing for a TV movie. A Smile as Big as the Moon wouldn't win any Academy Awards if it was a theater release, but it's really more than just passable. At least one of the kids is played by someone with the real disability, and the others seem to be pretty darn good actors. John Corbett is good as Mike. And that's pretty much everybody who has a big part.
So the production is good - and the story is better. People so often forget that disabilities don't define people. Yes, psychologists, I'm looking at you. Special ed kids are so often marginalized just because they happen to have difficulty reading, concentrating, remembering, or even just comprehending. They get labeled so that everyone sees them as "Down syndromes with people" (so to speak) instead of "people with Down syndrome." Then the kids' development is stunted because they're told they "can't do that" because their brains or other parts of them work differently. The only words to describe that viewpoint are ones that I prefer not to use. A Smile as Big as the Moon tears down that horrible inversion by showing just how much kids are capable of achieving if they're only given the chance and a helping hand.
My Rating: OK (mild language)
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
In Relation To The Phantom of the Opera
(Written by Gaston Leroux.) Once upon a time, there was an opera house in Paris. A beautiful young woman namd Christine Daae lived and worked there ever since her father, a famous and talented Swedish violinist, died. When the opera passed to new owners and a new patron, Christine's breathtakingly beautiful voice was discovered and Paris sang her praises. Among her newfound followers was an old friend Viscount Raoul de Changy. His old feelings for her came back in a rush, and he was determined to marry her. But someone she called the Angel of Music was very displeased with Raoul's attentions. The Angel - or Demon - wanted Christine all to himself, and he was willing to do anything to secure her.
Since I read a version translated from the original French (and abridged - though nothing important was cut out; just flowery descriptions and pointless lines), I cannot comment on whether this book is particularly well written or not. But I can say that it's a good tale, if a bit unbelievable, and at least some of the characters are likeable.
First, the tale. The whole story pivots on the Phantom and his genius. He's a fabulous musician and a very clever inventor. At the same time, his inventions are a bit unbelievable. (For example, the Torture Room, though a clever concept, would never work. The tree, reflected in the mirror walls, would make someone think he was in a jungle. But the man's reflection would also be seen on every mirror. That, I would think, would keep him from losing his mind.) But then, the whole book has a flavor of surrealism, brought on by a very romantic flair and the permeating madness of the Phantom. Because of this, the unrealistic inventions and elements in the story add to the story instead of detracting from it.
Strangely enough, the term "romantic" certainly fits for the tale as a whole and the love between Christine and Raoul, but not for the central love story of the book. *Spoiler Warning* The Phantom's aching search for even a small expression of love is the ultimate point of the story. When he receives just a small gift of love, he is satisfied. Christine, in giving him her kiss and her tears, shows him that someone in the world cares for him. He finds that is all he ever wanted, and he lets her and Raoul go. This is contrary to the typical romantic idea of love, in which passion must be continually satisfied. *End of Spoiler*
In addition to the decent story, some of the characters are likeable. Christine and the Persian are both good characters. Both are honorable, both seek to help others more than themselves. Raoul's brother and Meg are also good characters, though they are in the book very little.
But Raoul is sadly a very pathetic character. Nearly always on the verge of tears, headstrong, and weak-minded, he is a very disappointing hero. Christine is the one who saves the day, and Raoul does nothing to help. In fact, he makes matters worse. Without Christine and the Persian, he would have died an ignominious death.
So, all in all, it's a fairly decent book. But Raoul's schoolboy (dare I say schoolgirl?) character pales in comparison to the genius and virility of the Phantom, who is the center of the tale. In fact, the Phantom's cold-blooded madness is the only thing that makes him less likeable than Raoul. Because of this, the book could never be better than just good.
My Rating: OK (horror elements, very vague sexual references)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Since I read a version translated from the original French (and abridged - though nothing important was cut out; just flowery descriptions and pointless lines), I cannot comment on whether this book is particularly well written or not. But I can say that it's a good tale, if a bit unbelievable, and at least some of the characters are likeable.
First, the tale. The whole story pivots on the Phantom and his genius. He's a fabulous musician and a very clever inventor. At the same time, his inventions are a bit unbelievable. (For example, the Torture Room, though a clever concept, would never work. The tree, reflected in the mirror walls, would make someone think he was in a jungle. But the man's reflection would also be seen on every mirror. That, I would think, would keep him from losing his mind.) But then, the whole book has a flavor of surrealism, brought on by a very romantic flair and the permeating madness of the Phantom. Because of this, the unrealistic inventions and elements in the story add to the story instead of detracting from it.
Strangely enough, the term "romantic" certainly fits for the tale as a whole and the love between Christine and Raoul, but not for the central love story of the book. *Spoiler Warning* The Phantom's aching search for even a small expression of love is the ultimate point of the story. When he receives just a small gift of love, he is satisfied. Christine, in giving him her kiss and her tears, shows him that someone in the world cares for him. He finds that is all he ever wanted, and he lets her and Raoul go. This is contrary to the typical romantic idea of love, in which passion must be continually satisfied. *End of Spoiler*
In addition to the decent story, some of the characters are likeable. Christine and the Persian are both good characters. Both are honorable, both seek to help others more than themselves. Raoul's brother and Meg are also good characters, though they are in the book very little.
But Raoul is sadly a very pathetic character. Nearly always on the verge of tears, headstrong, and weak-minded, he is a very disappointing hero. Christine is the one who saves the day, and Raoul does nothing to help. In fact, he makes matters worse. Without Christine and the Persian, he would have died an ignominious death.
So, all in all, it's a fairly decent book. But Raoul's schoolboy (dare I say schoolgirl?) character pales in comparison to the genius and virility of the Phantom, who is the center of the tale. In fact, the Phantom's cold-blooded madness is the only thing that makes him less likeable than Raoul. Because of this, the book could never be better than just good.
My Rating: OK (horror elements, very vague sexual references)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
On Arch of Triumph
Dr. Ravic (Charles Boyer) is an illegal immigrant in France on the eve before WWII. Of course, Ravic isn't his real name. An Austrian who was imprisoned and tortured by the Nazis, he now spends his time helping other immigrants and avoiding the police. He stumbles across a nightclub singer named Joan Madou (Ingrid Bergman), who turns out to be a needy immigrant. The two embark on a love affair that can only end in tragedy when Ravic spots the man who tortured him in Germany. Now he wants to make sure that man doesn't return to Germany to torture others. The only way he can do that is to put him in a grave.
I apologize for the short post, but I'm running a bit short on time.
This movie is well-acted (particularly by Ingrid Bergman), fairly well-written, and pretty engaging. It's a bit weird to see Charles Boyer play an Austrian with his very heavy French accent. Also, Charles Laughton plays the evil Nazi - with a really bad "German" accent. Ah well, almost all movies have their foibles. This one's are apparently mismatched accents.
The foibles weren't the worst thing about this movie, though. The ending is horrible. No movie is good without a happy ending. I don't mean an ending that goes "and they all lived happily ever after." One of my favorite movie endings is one where literally almost half the characters die. At any rate, the ending to this movie is tragic. And that ruins what would otherwise be a pretty decent film.
My Rating: T (thematic elements, violence)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
I apologize for the short post, but I'm running a bit short on time.
This movie is well-acted (particularly by Ingrid Bergman), fairly well-written, and pretty engaging. It's a bit weird to see Charles Boyer play an Austrian with his very heavy French accent. Also, Charles Laughton plays the evil Nazi - with a really bad "German" accent. Ah well, almost all movies have their foibles. This one's are apparently mismatched accents.
The foibles weren't the worst thing about this movie, though. The ending is horrible. No movie is good without a happy ending. I don't mean an ending that goes "and they all lived happily ever after." One of my favorite movie endings is one where literally almost half the characters die. At any rate, the ending to this movie is tragic. And that ruins what would otherwise be a pretty decent film.
My Rating: T (thematic elements, violence)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Friday, September 30, 2011
The Single, Solitary Reason
Spellbound or The House of Dr. Edwardes, written by Francis Beeding, is almost completely worthless. In fact, the single, solitary reason why I even keep my copy is: The pictures on the inside cover. They're from the movie, and I loved the movie. Otherwise, the book is rubbish.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Pertaining To The Conspirator
Zzzzzzz... What? I'm sorry. Fell asleep for a minute there.
Okay, something about a woman who is (perhaps) falsely accused of conspiring to kill President Lincoln. She stands trial in a closed military court with Union generals as the deciding body. A young man in the war department is her defense. He's reluctant at first, but then starts to believe the trial is unfair and she may be innocent. He's willing to risk his career to see her get a fair trial.
That about covers it. I've heard the movie is relentlessly accurate (historically, I mean). However, I doubt that very much. It seems a little too liberal to be accurate. The writing is so-so (what's with the contractions in the dialogue?). The acting is kept afloat by Robin Wright as Mary Surratt, the accused woman, and, to a certain extent, James McAvoy as Aiken, her defense lawyer. (Although I think he occasionally had trouble dropping his British accent.)
Aside from the sheer boredom, I also had a problem with the portrayal of the military court. Whether the generals were truly on a witch hunt or not is beside the point. What matters is what audiences bring away from this movie. Unfortunately, The Conspirator implies that military trials are necessarily biased. With the recent (and still unresolved) controversy over suspected terrorist trials, this seems like a thinly veiled condemnation of the military trials that many conservatives want to use. I have heard that this movie was in the works well before the War on Terror, so it seems that the man behind the movie did not intend it as a condemnation. However, I am perfectly willing to believe that director Robert Redford intended it as a condemnation.
Additionally, military trials are called "unconstitutional." Shortly after Surratt's trial, the Supreme Court ruled that citizens cannot be tried in military courts. I would agree. But this was an extraordinary period in the history of this country. Nearly all enemy combatants were citizens because it was a Civil War. The filmmakers also forgot to mention little details like: Abraham Lincoln himself suspended habeas corpus during the Civil War. Imagine that! The man that everyone includes in their top five best presidents list suspended something that the Supreme Court has recently (and perhaps wrongfully) given to non-citizens. Also, if Lincoln suspended habeas corpus rights without a huge uproar, why would anyone at the time think it untoward that Surratt got a military trial?
Finally, the story seemed a little stilted. For most of the movie, it is implied that Surratt is innocent. Only at the beginning and the end does Aiken seem to doubt her innocence. In the beginning, he is convinced that she is guilty. In the end, he admits that he doesn't know; he just wants her to have a fair trial. In between, he seems to never doubt her innocence. The flimsiness of the evidence presented against her also seems to imply that she is innocent. In the mystery genre, it's a good thing to mislead audience by getting it caught up in the moment. In the historical genre, it's just bad storytelling.
In conclusion, this is a good movie to watch when you need to catch up on some sleep. Robin Wright was wonderful as Mary Surratt, and James McAvoy was pretty good as Aiken. But they were the only bright lights in an otherwise drab (and probably politically slanted) movie.
My Rating: T (mild language, violence (including stabbing), several people are hanged)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Okay, something about a woman who is (perhaps) falsely accused of conspiring to kill President Lincoln. She stands trial in a closed military court with Union generals as the deciding body. A young man in the war department is her defense. He's reluctant at first, but then starts to believe the trial is unfair and she may be innocent. He's willing to risk his career to see her get a fair trial.
That about covers it. I've heard the movie is relentlessly accurate (historically, I mean). However, I doubt that very much. It seems a little too liberal to be accurate. The writing is so-so (what's with the contractions in the dialogue?). The acting is kept afloat by Robin Wright as Mary Surratt, the accused woman, and, to a certain extent, James McAvoy as Aiken, her defense lawyer. (Although I think he occasionally had trouble dropping his British accent.)
Aside from the sheer boredom, I also had a problem with the portrayal of the military court. Whether the generals were truly on a witch hunt or not is beside the point. What matters is what audiences bring away from this movie. Unfortunately, The Conspirator implies that military trials are necessarily biased. With the recent (and still unresolved) controversy over suspected terrorist trials, this seems like a thinly veiled condemnation of the military trials that many conservatives want to use. I have heard that this movie was in the works well before the War on Terror, so it seems that the man behind the movie did not intend it as a condemnation. However, I am perfectly willing to believe that director Robert Redford intended it as a condemnation.
Additionally, military trials are called "unconstitutional." Shortly after Surratt's trial, the Supreme Court ruled that citizens cannot be tried in military courts. I would agree. But this was an extraordinary period in the history of this country. Nearly all enemy combatants were citizens because it was a Civil War. The filmmakers also forgot to mention little details like: Abraham Lincoln himself suspended habeas corpus during the Civil War. Imagine that! The man that everyone includes in their top five best presidents list suspended something that the Supreme Court has recently (and perhaps wrongfully) given to non-citizens. Also, if Lincoln suspended habeas corpus rights without a huge uproar, why would anyone at the time think it untoward that Surratt got a military trial?
Finally, the story seemed a little stilted. For most of the movie, it is implied that Surratt is innocent. Only at the beginning and the end does Aiken seem to doubt her innocence. In the beginning, he is convinced that she is guilty. In the end, he admits that he doesn't know; he just wants her to have a fair trial. In between, he seems to never doubt her innocence. The flimsiness of the evidence presented against her also seems to imply that she is innocent. In the mystery genre, it's a good thing to mislead audience by getting it caught up in the moment. In the historical genre, it's just bad storytelling.
In conclusion, this is a good movie to watch when you need to catch up on some sleep. Robin Wright was wonderful as Mary Surratt, and James McAvoy was pretty good as Aiken. But they were the only bright lights in an otherwise drab (and probably politically slanted) movie.
My Rating: T (mild language, violence (including stabbing), several people are hanged)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
On The Loser Letters: A Comic Tale of Life, Death, and Atheism
(Written by Mary Eberstadt.)
Dear Theists, Atheists, and the Rest of Mankind,
If you're looking for a book that's dripping with sarcasm, full of truth, and more sobering than a cold shower and a cup of coffee, this is the book for you. I don't have to tell you that the debate about God and religion is center-stage right now. I mean, just look at the debate over marriage; theists and atheists alike who happen to believe that marriage is between a man and a woman are selfish, hateful bigots, and the open-minded, tolerant theists and atheists who believe that anything goes as long as it makes you feel good are trying to shut down the opposition with rightly-deserved diatribes. But I digress. Have you ever thought about the logical arguments for atheism? I mean, they have to hold water, right? People as intelligent as Richard Dawkins have to have good reasons to believe that God doesn't exist. Don't they? Or is it something else that drives people to disbelieve in the existence of God?
Your Obedient Servant,
A.D. Catholic
Normally, I don't like it when people use sarcasm to tear down opposing arguments. As a general rule, if the only argument you have is one of mockery, then you have no argument, you just have a loud voice. But in the case of The Loser Letters, sarcasm and mockery are tempered by sympathy - and not "sympathy" of the patronizing kind. I know that seems like an oxymoron, but it isn't.
Using the voice of the "one and only convert" to atheism, a fictional character who signs her name with the pseudonym "A. F. (A Former) Christian," Mary Eberstadt manages to neatly expose the contradictions and downright foolishness of some major arguments in favor of atheism. In the book, A. F. Christian is trying to help her fellow atheists by explaining why the arguments don't hold water and by pointing out that they should quit using those arguments (the ones that don't quite make sense) because they only turn off potential converts.
This book is right on so many levels, I don't know where to begin. To save myself (and you) from an agonizingly long post, I'll just say that every one of the fallacies and contradictions that A. F. Christian so ably points out are true. Atheism and watered down religion that permit anyone to do whatever they want without any consequences are destroying our culture and, more importantly, destroying our young people. A. F. Christian is a case in point - but you'll have to read the book to find out more.
The sympathy comes later in the book when the reader finally discovers A. F.'s story. It's heartbreakingly sad; she could very easily be the poster girl for godlessness run amok. The sympathy that comes from A. F.'s sad story makes readers see atheists not as objects of mockery and sarcasm, but as misguided people. They simply live in a world where up is down and down is up, and we should give them our prayers, not our mockery.
*Spoiler Warning* The final part of the book seems to have its basis in Dante. Alas and alack, I have not read Dante, so I'm probably not the best person to analyze this part of the book. I'll keep it as basic as I can. In the last letter, we find that the rehab clinic where A. F. Christian has been living is really Purgatory. During the time that she has been there (and the time that she has written her letters), Jesus has given the angels a chance to figure out the state of A. F.'s soul. It's made quite clear that He doesn't really trust their judgment; He just lets them have a crack at it before He sends her off to the her final destination. My problem with this element is that the Catholic Church teaches that "Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, section 1022). Meaning that if someone is headed to Hell he or she goes to Hell at the moment he or she dies. No short stop in Purgatory. Straight to Hell. The only explanation for this theological hiccup I can think of is that Jesus, knowing as He does the state of everybody's soul, knew she was headed to Heaven eventually anyway. In other words, he allows the angels to try to figure out the state of each soul in Purgatory, but all the souls they try to evaluate are headed to Heaven anyway. Which, in my mind at least, kind of defeats the whole purpose of the exercise. (Although I have to admit that the imagining of Purgatory as a rehab or "detox" place is a brilliant move.) *End of Spoiler*
In the end, The Loser Letters is about the pain and destruction that comes from cutting God and meaning out of life. Sure, the basic atheist arguments are destroyed like waves destroy sandcastles, but the fundamental point is not so much the foolishness of atheism. The fundamental point is that atheism has resulted in evils and suffering that have sickened our culture. Faced with such a world, theists can only pray and try to help the "collateral damage" pick up the pieces of their broken lives, trusting that God will heal all our wounds.
My Rating: MT (sexual and drug references, language, pervasive evil in people's lives)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Dear Theists, Atheists, and the Rest of Mankind,
If you're looking for a book that's dripping with sarcasm, full of truth, and more sobering than a cold shower and a cup of coffee, this is the book for you. I don't have to tell you that the debate about God and religion is center-stage right now. I mean, just look at the debate over marriage; theists and atheists alike who happen to believe that marriage is between a man and a woman are selfish, hateful bigots, and the open-minded, tolerant theists and atheists who believe that anything goes as long as it makes you feel good are trying to shut down the opposition with rightly-deserved diatribes. But I digress. Have you ever thought about the logical arguments for atheism? I mean, they have to hold water, right? People as intelligent as Richard Dawkins have to have good reasons to believe that God doesn't exist. Don't they? Or is it something else that drives people to disbelieve in the existence of God?
Your Obedient Servant,
A.D. Catholic
Normally, I don't like it when people use sarcasm to tear down opposing arguments. As a general rule, if the only argument you have is one of mockery, then you have no argument, you just have a loud voice. But in the case of The Loser Letters, sarcasm and mockery are tempered by sympathy - and not "sympathy" of the patronizing kind. I know that seems like an oxymoron, but it isn't.
Using the voice of the "one and only convert" to atheism, a fictional character who signs her name with the pseudonym "A. F. (A Former) Christian," Mary Eberstadt manages to neatly expose the contradictions and downright foolishness of some major arguments in favor of atheism. In the book, A. F. Christian is trying to help her fellow atheists by explaining why the arguments don't hold water and by pointing out that they should quit using those arguments (the ones that don't quite make sense) because they only turn off potential converts.
This book is right on so many levels, I don't know where to begin. To save myself (and you) from an agonizingly long post, I'll just say that every one of the fallacies and contradictions that A. F. Christian so ably points out are true. Atheism and watered down religion that permit anyone to do whatever they want without any consequences are destroying our culture and, more importantly, destroying our young people. A. F. Christian is a case in point - but you'll have to read the book to find out more.
The sympathy comes later in the book when the reader finally discovers A. F.'s story. It's heartbreakingly sad; she could very easily be the poster girl for godlessness run amok. The sympathy that comes from A. F.'s sad story makes readers see atheists not as objects of mockery and sarcasm, but as misguided people. They simply live in a world where up is down and down is up, and we should give them our prayers, not our mockery.
*Spoiler Warning* The final part of the book seems to have its basis in Dante. Alas and alack, I have not read Dante, so I'm probably not the best person to analyze this part of the book. I'll keep it as basic as I can. In the last letter, we find that the rehab clinic where A. F. Christian has been living is really Purgatory. During the time that she has been there (and the time that she has written her letters), Jesus has given the angels a chance to figure out the state of A. F.'s soul. It's made quite clear that He doesn't really trust their judgment; He just lets them have a crack at it before He sends her off to the her final destination. My problem with this element is that the Catholic Church teaches that "Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, section 1022). Meaning that if someone is headed to Hell he or she goes to Hell at the moment he or she dies. No short stop in Purgatory. Straight to Hell. The only explanation for this theological hiccup I can think of is that Jesus, knowing as He does the state of everybody's soul, knew she was headed to Heaven eventually anyway. In other words, he allows the angels to try to figure out the state of each soul in Purgatory, but all the souls they try to evaluate are headed to Heaven anyway. Which, in my mind at least, kind of defeats the whole purpose of the exercise. (Although I have to admit that the imagining of Purgatory as a rehab or "detox" place is a brilliant move.) *End of Spoiler*
In the end, The Loser Letters is about the pain and destruction that comes from cutting God and meaning out of life. Sure, the basic atheist arguments are destroyed like waves destroy sandcastles, but the fundamental point is not so much the foolishness of atheism. The fundamental point is that atheism has resulted in evils and suffering that have sickened our culture. Faced with such a world, theists can only pray and try to help the "collateral damage" pick up the pieces of their broken lives, trusting that God will heal all our wounds.
My Rating: MT (sexual and drug references, language, pervasive evil in people's lives)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Regarding This Present Darkness
(Written by Frank E. Peretti.) Satan is closing in on the little town of Ashton. His demons are lurking about, tempting people into doing horrible things. Now his lieutenant, Rafar, the Prince of Babylon, has been sent to carry out his evil plan. An angel named Captain Tal and his likewise angelic companions are preparing to do battle. But their strength can only be increased by human prayers - and there is precious little praying going on in Ashton. Only Hank Busche, a local pastor, and his wife Mary seem to be praying. Can Hank and the angels change the minds of the people in town? And what about that nosy newspaperman, Marshall Hogan? Will he be able to put his finger on what the town's most influential people are doing behind closed doors?
Hm. This book had great potential, but overly dramatic writing and shaky theology derailed it before it really got started. I mean, what could be cooler than angels and demons engaged in a spiritual battle, while human underdogs try to fight off an evil organization that is trying to take over the world? But the book just sort of fell on its face.
First, the writing in the beginning of the book nearly made me quit several times. Peretti attempted to throw the reader into the angels' urgent situation without any background. This might have worked, except he eliminated dialogue that would have been in there, in my opinion, had he not intended to keep the reader in the dark about the forces of light. (Forgive the pun.) Plus, I disliked the drama in the angels' dialogue. One of my favorite Chesterton quotes reads as follows: "Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly." Instead, Peretti's angels seem to be fully aware of the drama of their situation.
Fortunately, the writing got better as the book went on. Unfortunately, the theology did not.
On the surface, this book is great. It's essentially a warning against New Age religions, which seem to be benign but are really very dangerous. In Peretti's book, people's lives are destroyed or lost because of New Age influences, and fortune telling and other dangerous practices are similarly condemned.
Below the surface, however, the theology is shaky. Hank repeatedly drives demons out of afflicted people in the town, while other lay persons "rebuke" demons. I'm not sure if a lay person could ever drive out a demon from a possessed person. What I do know is that Catholic canon law states that exorcists must be priests appointed specifically for that task by their bishops. That sounds to me as if it is impossible or nearly impossible for a lay person to drive out demons. Additionally, I have read that exorcisms are processes that can take years of repitition before they are successful. I estimate that the longest it takes Hank to drive out a demon is about ten minutes.
Also, it bothered me that the only Catholics in the book were considered "superstitious." The Catholic items around their house were considered evidence for their superstitious minds. Now, to be fair, the main character who was in that scene was not really religious and therefore wouldn't understand pictures of Mary, etc. However, there was no correction of this mistake later in the book; as far as the reader knows, it's superstitious to have crucifixes and images of Mary about the house. That is not true or fair. Catholics have such images because they lift our minds to God, both because they are reminders and because they are beautiful. Superstition does not fit into the equation.
Plagued by a melodramatic writing style and theological difficulties, This Present Darkness takes a little while just to get off the ground. In the middle, the pace speeds up enough to be bearable, but the theological problems grow at the same time. Ultimately, I would not waste my time by reading this again, and I would not recommend it to anyone else either.
My Rating: MT (sexual references and content, violence, frightening ideas and images)
Hm. This book had great potential, but overly dramatic writing and shaky theology derailed it before it really got started. I mean, what could be cooler than angels and demons engaged in a spiritual battle, while human underdogs try to fight off an evil organization that is trying to take over the world? But the book just sort of fell on its face.
First, the writing in the beginning of the book nearly made me quit several times. Peretti attempted to throw the reader into the angels' urgent situation without any background. This might have worked, except he eliminated dialogue that would have been in there, in my opinion, had he not intended to keep the reader in the dark about the forces of light. (Forgive the pun.) Plus, I disliked the drama in the angels' dialogue. One of my favorite Chesterton quotes reads as follows: "Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly." Instead, Peretti's angels seem to be fully aware of the drama of their situation.
Fortunately, the writing got better as the book went on. Unfortunately, the theology did not.
On the surface, this book is great. It's essentially a warning against New Age religions, which seem to be benign but are really very dangerous. In Peretti's book, people's lives are destroyed or lost because of New Age influences, and fortune telling and other dangerous practices are similarly condemned.
Below the surface, however, the theology is shaky. Hank repeatedly drives demons out of afflicted people in the town, while other lay persons "rebuke" demons. I'm not sure if a lay person could ever drive out a demon from a possessed person. What I do know is that Catholic canon law states that exorcists must be priests appointed specifically for that task by their bishops. That sounds to me as if it is impossible or nearly impossible for a lay person to drive out demons. Additionally, I have read that exorcisms are processes that can take years of repitition before they are successful. I estimate that the longest it takes Hank to drive out a demon is about ten minutes.
Also, it bothered me that the only Catholics in the book were considered "superstitious." The Catholic items around their house were considered evidence for their superstitious minds. Now, to be fair, the main character who was in that scene was not really religious and therefore wouldn't understand pictures of Mary, etc. However, there was no correction of this mistake later in the book; as far as the reader knows, it's superstitious to have crucifixes and images of Mary about the house. That is not true or fair. Catholics have such images because they lift our minds to God, both because they are reminders and because they are beautiful. Superstition does not fit into the equation.
Plagued by a melodramatic writing style and theological difficulties, This Present Darkness takes a little while just to get off the ground. In the middle, the pace speeds up enough to be bearable, but the theological problems grow at the same time. Ultimately, I would not waste my time by reading this again, and I would not recommend it to anyone else either.
My Rating: MT (sexual references and content, violence, frightening ideas and images)
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Pertaining To Upstairs Downstairs
It's 1936, and Sir Hallam Holland (Ed Stoppard) and his lovely wife Agnes (Keeley Hawes) move to London after spending time abroad. The couple is delighted to have their own home - until Hallam's mother Maud (Eileen Atkins) shows up. Hot on Maud's heels is Agnes's younger sister Persephone (Claire Foy), an awkward young lady who is clueless about proper conduct in society. Meanwhile, the newly-acquired servants develop their own problems and friendships. Neither the upstairs nor the downstairs can avoid the chaos spreading throughout Europe as fascism attempts to take hold in England.
I wasn't too sure about this show before I hit the "play" button. Upstairs Downstairs centers on the personal lives of a small group of people living in the same house - can anyone say "soap opera?" However, I was pleasantly surprised. Somehow the filmmakers managed to make a show entirely focused on people and their relationships without descending into crazy, tangled story lines or sex.
One great thing about this show is that essentially all the characters are both likeable and human at the same time. Nearly all of them make mistakes, but most are just immature or misguided and end up all right. (I say "most" because there are one or two exceptions - but I musn't say anymore.) Sir Hallam is, of course, absolutely wonderful, and I found the butler, Mr. Pritchard (Adrian Scarborough), to be one of my favorite British costume drama characters of all time. Even Ivy (Ellie Kendrick), the young maid I found excruciatingly immature and annoying in the first episode, became more likeable as the series went on. (But could any other Americans understand what she said? Her accent was so heavy I couldn't understand her half the time.)
It was also interesting to see the historical aspects of Upstairs Downstairs. It's easy to forget that there were Nazi sympathizers in England (and, undoubtedly, in other allied countries) shortly before WWII, but the second and third episodes highlight this fact very clearly. Also, a different portrayal of King George VI (Blake Ritson) from the one in The King's Speech was rather interesting to see. In Upstairs Downstairs, King George (who was still the Duke of Kent) has no noticeable stammer at all, whereas he can sometimes barely speak in The King's Speech. I'm not sure which is more historically accurate, though I suspect it is the latter. However, the Duke has a very small part in Upstairs Downstairs, so the absence of a stammer is not too distracting.
My favorite thing about this series is that it is pro-life. First, Lady Agnes has had a miscarriage and wants nothing more than to get pregnant and deliver a live, healthy baby. This view of babies as wonderful, even miraculous little beings is counter-cultural right now. *Spoiler Warning* Second, Hallam is determined to do right by little Lotte (Alexia James) when her mother dies under his roof. He practically adopts her, despite stiff opposition from his mother and his over-wrought wife, and pursues her when she is sent away without his knowledge. Finally, Hallam's joy at the discovery that his sister is alive completely overshadows the revelation that she is pretty severely mentally challenged. Understandably angry with his mother for lying to him about the death of his sister, he clearly shows that he would rather have a mentally challenged sister than no sister at all. In spite of what society might think of her, he immediately takes her home to live with him. This is a truly lovely embrace of a person who may be considered by some to be better off dead. Taken together, the positive portrayals of babies, adoption, and those with mental challenges all add up to a definite pro-life theme. *End of Spoiler*
Without gushing too much over Sir Hallam, I must say that I absolutely loved this show. Upstairs Downstairs has likeable characters, exciting history, and even a few pro-life elements. It also avoids the bottomless pit of soap opera-like melodrama. Things like well-written humor and fine acting are just the icing on the top of this delectable cake - and there are very few shows or movies, British or otherwise, that can boast that.
My Rating: T (sexual content including two bedroom scenes between an unmarried couple (not sex scenes))
I wasn't too sure about this show before I hit the "play" button. Upstairs Downstairs centers on the personal lives of a small group of people living in the same house - can anyone say "soap opera?" However, I was pleasantly surprised. Somehow the filmmakers managed to make a show entirely focused on people and their relationships without descending into crazy, tangled story lines or sex.
One great thing about this show is that essentially all the characters are both likeable and human at the same time. Nearly all of them make mistakes, but most are just immature or misguided and end up all right. (I say "most" because there are one or two exceptions - but I musn't say anymore.) Sir Hallam is, of course, absolutely wonderful, and I found the butler, Mr. Pritchard (Adrian Scarborough), to be one of my favorite British costume drama characters of all time. Even Ivy (Ellie Kendrick), the young maid I found excruciatingly immature and annoying in the first episode, became more likeable as the series went on. (But could any other Americans understand what she said? Her accent was so heavy I couldn't understand her half the time.)
It was also interesting to see the historical aspects of Upstairs Downstairs. It's easy to forget that there were Nazi sympathizers in England (and, undoubtedly, in other allied countries) shortly before WWII, but the second and third episodes highlight this fact very clearly. Also, a different portrayal of King George VI (Blake Ritson) from the one in The King's Speech was rather interesting to see. In Upstairs Downstairs, King George (who was still the Duke of Kent) has no noticeable stammer at all, whereas he can sometimes barely speak in The King's Speech. I'm not sure which is more historically accurate, though I suspect it is the latter. However, the Duke has a very small part in Upstairs Downstairs, so the absence of a stammer is not too distracting.
My favorite thing about this series is that it is pro-life. First, Lady Agnes has had a miscarriage and wants nothing more than to get pregnant and deliver a live, healthy baby. This view of babies as wonderful, even miraculous little beings is counter-cultural right now. *Spoiler Warning* Second, Hallam is determined to do right by little Lotte (Alexia James) when her mother dies under his roof. He practically adopts her, despite stiff opposition from his mother and his over-wrought wife, and pursues her when she is sent away without his knowledge. Finally, Hallam's joy at the discovery that his sister is alive completely overshadows the revelation that she is pretty severely mentally challenged. Understandably angry with his mother for lying to him about the death of his sister, he clearly shows that he would rather have a mentally challenged sister than no sister at all. In spite of what society might think of her, he immediately takes her home to live with him. This is a truly lovely embrace of a person who may be considered by some to be better off dead. Taken together, the positive portrayals of babies, adoption, and those with mental challenges all add up to a definite pro-life theme. *End of Spoiler*
Without gushing too much over Sir Hallam, I must say that I absolutely loved this show. Upstairs Downstairs has likeable characters, exciting history, and even a few pro-life elements. It also avoids the bottomless pit of soap opera-like melodrama. Things like well-written humor and fine acting are just the icing on the top of this delectable cake - and there are very few shows or movies, British or otherwise, that can boast that.
My Rating: T (sexual content including two bedroom scenes between an unmarried couple (not sex scenes))
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Regarding Saints and Soldiers
Four American soldiers survive a Nazi massacre of POWs. They're a rather strange bunch: a firm but loyal sergeant, a religious man struggling with his demons, a medic who doesn't believe in God, and a southern man who has more enthusiasm than brains. On the run, they come across an RAF pilot dangling from a tree. He is in possession of vital information about the Battle of the Bulge that must be got to an allied command post. The four soldiers agree to help him - whatever the cost.
This is the first war movie made within the last sixty years that I have seen. I rarely watch movies from the seventies or eighties (or even the sixties), and anything made in the last fifteen years is probably too violent (and/or politically motivated) for my taste. But Saints and Soldiers wasn't made to linger on the horrors of war or to push an agenda - rather, it focuses on the heroism of men, and one man in particular, who are willing to sacrifice themselves in order to win a war.
While the short summary I read looked promising, I must admit I had low expectations of quality going into this movie. After all, it was made in 2003, but I had never heard of it before. Translation: It didn't make a huge splash when it first came out. But I was very pleasantly surprised.
The dialogue was well written, without many cliches or clunky lines. The acting was pretty good, although the accents leave something to be desired. The southerner's accent was only slightly cringe-inducing (I got used to it after a while), but the British guy's accent really got on my nerves. Perhaps this was because I've seen hour upon hour of British movies with real British people and have consequently become hyper sensitive to this sort of thing, but I must say I wish they had picked someone who really is British.
Another issue I feel I must address is the fact that Saints and Soldiers was made by a Mormon, and at least one of the actors is Mormon as well. This might be more of a stumbling block if Mormonism permeated the whole film, but not only did the few references escape my notice (e.g. the religious man is from a town densely populated by Mormons and doesn't drink or smoke), a Catholic supply company I trust has the film for sale. (Although I must say I thought it was strange when the religious man said he had been on a "mission" trip to Germany.)
In the end, Saints and Soldiers is about heroicism, sacrifice, and even redemption in a time of war. Add in the fact that it feels like a good, old war movie in that it has a simple story line and not a great deal of violence or blood, and the end product is an enjoyable - and rather touching - ninety minutes.
My Rating: T (violence, mild language)
This is the first war movie made within the last sixty years that I have seen. I rarely watch movies from the seventies or eighties (or even the sixties), and anything made in the last fifteen years is probably too violent (and/or politically motivated) for my taste. But Saints and Soldiers wasn't made to linger on the horrors of war or to push an agenda - rather, it focuses on the heroism of men, and one man in particular, who are willing to sacrifice themselves in order to win a war.
While the short summary I read looked promising, I must admit I had low expectations of quality going into this movie. After all, it was made in 2003, but I had never heard of it before. Translation: It didn't make a huge splash when it first came out. But I was very pleasantly surprised.
The dialogue was well written, without many cliches or clunky lines. The acting was pretty good, although the accents leave something to be desired. The southerner's accent was only slightly cringe-inducing (I got used to it after a while), but the British guy's accent really got on my nerves. Perhaps this was because I've seen hour upon hour of British movies with real British people and have consequently become hyper sensitive to this sort of thing, but I must say I wish they had picked someone who really is British.
Another issue I feel I must address is the fact that Saints and Soldiers was made by a Mormon, and at least one of the actors is Mormon as well. This might be more of a stumbling block if Mormonism permeated the whole film, but not only did the few references escape my notice (e.g. the religious man is from a town densely populated by Mormons and doesn't drink or smoke), a Catholic supply company I trust has the film for sale. (Although I must say I thought it was strange when the religious man said he had been on a "mission" trip to Germany.)
In the end, Saints and Soldiers is about heroicism, sacrifice, and even redemption in a time of war. Add in the fact that it feels like a good, old war movie in that it has a simple story line and not a great deal of violence or blood, and the end product is an enjoyable - and rather touching - ninety minutes.
My Rating: T (violence, mild language)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
In Relation To I Confess
A man comes to Fr. Logan (Montgomery Clift) and confesses to a murder. When the police begin to investigate, Fr. Logan faithfully upholds the seal of the confessional and says nothing. But as circumstantial evidence begins to cast suspicion on Fr. Logan, the real killer becomes nervous. Will the priest take the fall to protect the murderer, or will Fr. Logan become frightened enough to confess what he heard?
They just don't make movies like this any more. Granted, it's a little over dramatic in parts - nearly all Alfred Hitchcock movies are. But the rest of the movie - and the rich Christian symbolism in particular - is well worth the one or two eye-rolling moments.
The passion and death of Jesus is a motif throughout I Confess. When he is accused of the murder, Fr. Logan must choose between clearing his name and obeying Jesus, who once said "If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23b). As he is wrestling with what to do, he passes crucifixes and statues of Jesus on the road to Calvary. There is also a prominent crucifix in the court room. These images, often either prominent or even in the foreground of camera shots, compare Fr. Logan's suffering with that of Jesus, who also suffered for other people's sins.
Ultimately, my favorite thing about this movie is the portrayal of a strong Catholic priest. After the horrible scandal that has surfaced in the last few years, it's refreshing to watch a movie about a priest who actually tries to live up to his vocation - being a shepherd to God's people.
My Rating: T (thematic elements, some violence)
They just don't make movies like this any more. Granted, it's a little over dramatic in parts - nearly all Alfred Hitchcock movies are. But the rest of the movie - and the rich Christian symbolism in particular - is well worth the one or two eye-rolling moments.
The passion and death of Jesus is a motif throughout I Confess. When he is accused of the murder, Fr. Logan must choose between clearing his name and obeying Jesus, who once said "If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23b). As he is wrestling with what to do, he passes crucifixes and statues of Jesus on the road to Calvary. There is also a prominent crucifix in the court room. These images, often either prominent or even in the foreground of camera shots, compare Fr. Logan's suffering with that of Jesus, who also suffered for other people's sins.
Ultimately, my favorite thing about this movie is the portrayal of a strong Catholic priest. After the horrible scandal that has surfaced in the last few years, it's refreshing to watch a movie about a priest who actually tries to live up to his vocation - being a shepherd to God's people.
My Rating: T (thematic elements, some violence)
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
On Dear Frankie
Frankie (Jack McElhone), a nine-year-old deaf boy, has been writing letters to his absent father for years. Except that his father hasn't received any of the letters, much less written any replies. Actually, Frankie's mother Lizzie has been the one corresponding with him under the guise of his father's name. Lizzie has told her son that his father is a sailor on board the Accra. But when the ship, which Lizzie thought existed only in her imagination, comes to town, Lizzie finds herself in a tight spot. She does what any mother would do - she hires a total stranger to play her husband for a day.
Putting aside some moral issues, Dear Frankie uses wonderful acting, a stream-lined script, and lovely Scottish accents to make a sweet little tale. Slow-paced, relaxed, and gentle, it paints a beautiful picture of a woman and her son struggling with their troubles. Frankie doesn't seem too bothered by his deafness, but he won't even speak to his mother, much less anyone else. Lizzie is struggling with single motherhood and the tragedies that have befallen her and her loved ones, and at times it seems like her mother's feistiness and her son's fragility are the only things that keep her afloat.
At the same time, Dear Frankie doesn't resort to too much drama. There are several scenes that are entirely without dialogue, and many others where the dialogue is very simple. That isn't to say the filmmakers wrote a boring or amateurish script. In fact, the script uses impressively few words to convey major parts of the story. Instead, it just means that the movie is about simple people with complicated problems.
One of the simplest characters in the movie is the man Lizzie hires to play her husband. The credits identify him merely as "The Stranger" (Gerard Butler). He has "no past, no present, and no future," but he has a very good heart. All it takes to talk him into helping Lizzie protect her son from the truth is a picture of Frankie taken just before his father disappeared. As the movie goes on, it becomes increasingly clear that he will do almost anything to make Frankie feel like his father truly loves him.
When tragedy hits, many people are prompted to ask "why?" Dear Frankie shows that it is not only possible to survive tragedy, it is possible that tragedy can lead directly to things that are more wonderful than anything that happened before tragedy struck.
My Rating: MT (language, sexual references - two made by children)
Putting aside some moral issues, Dear Frankie uses wonderful acting, a stream-lined script, and lovely Scottish accents to make a sweet little tale. Slow-paced, relaxed, and gentle, it paints a beautiful picture of a woman and her son struggling with their troubles. Frankie doesn't seem too bothered by his deafness, but he won't even speak to his mother, much less anyone else. Lizzie is struggling with single motherhood and the tragedies that have befallen her and her loved ones, and at times it seems like her mother's feistiness and her son's fragility are the only things that keep her afloat.
At the same time, Dear Frankie doesn't resort to too much drama. There are several scenes that are entirely without dialogue, and many others where the dialogue is very simple. That isn't to say the filmmakers wrote a boring or amateurish script. In fact, the script uses impressively few words to convey major parts of the story. Instead, it just means that the movie is about simple people with complicated problems.
One of the simplest characters in the movie is the man Lizzie hires to play her husband. The credits identify him merely as "The Stranger" (Gerard Butler). He has "no past, no present, and no future," but he has a very good heart. All it takes to talk him into helping Lizzie protect her son from the truth is a picture of Frankie taken just before his father disappeared. As the movie goes on, it becomes increasingly clear that he will do almost anything to make Frankie feel like his father truly loves him.
When tragedy hits, many people are prompted to ask "why?" Dear Frankie shows that it is not only possible to survive tragedy, it is possible that tragedy can lead directly to things that are more wonderful than anything that happened before tragedy struck.
My Rating: MT (language, sexual references - two made by children)
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Regarding Rachel's Contrition
(Written by Michelle Buckman.) Rachel is only twenty-five, but her life is a mess. She is separated from her husband. She sees her son just every other weekend. Her beautiful baby girl is dead. Drowning in a mist of prescription pain-killers and anti-depressants, her memory alternately fails her and hits her in the face with scenes from her past that she would rather forget. It seems that nothing will pull her out of her despair. Then she becomes friends with Lilly, a teenager who is struggling through her own problems. Lilly gives her a book about Saint Therese of Lisieux, and Rachel begins to see a tiny crack of light in the darkness.
It seems trite to sum up an entire book with one word, especially a book as complex as this one, but I think an appropriate word to use in describing this book would be Love. On second thought, "Love" is correct, but "word" does not fit - "name" is better. Throughout the whole story, Rachel is searching for love, but not just everyday, happily-ever-after love; she's searching for Love, another name for God.
I didn't know quite what to expect from this book. In my experience, there are very few really Catholic novels out there. I knew authoress Michelle Buckman was Catholic before I started reading, but I thought perhaps she had diluted some of the Catholic elements she might have put in. I was wrong. While I don't think the Catholicism in this book would offend non-Catholics, Catholic teaching on suffering, love, healing, and many other things are woven into the story.
A particularly beautiful part is the St. Therese book that Rachel reads. Little snippets from St. Therese's autobiography are included in the story, and Rachel finds the Little Flower's reflections on Love, love, the dark night of the soul, and suffering to be comforting at the very least. Through St. Therese's gentle words and the kind friendship of a priest, Rachel finds the courage to open herself to Love.
Common misconceptions about Catholicism, specifically about statues and saints, are neatly explained in a few words by Rachel's priest friend. As a cradle Catholic, I found that short exchange to be pretty boring, but I'm glad Michelle Buckman took the time to show that Catholics really don't worship saints or statues in any sense of the word.
Despite and partly because of the rich Catholicism in this book, it is by no means family-friendly. Dark subject material is dealt with, from drugs (both prescription and recreational) and murder to extra-marital affairs and sexual abuse of minors. While everything is handled with delicacy and there isn't any truly explicit material, I would definitely recommend an older person pre-read this for any young teenager.
The dark is illuminated by some bright spots and moments, however. Characters like Ricky and Father Jacobsen show Rachel true compassion and love, helping her through the darkest period in her already dark life. A few beautiful moments like one in the hospital and another in the library are touching, and serve to lighten the book with little glimmers of hope.
Unfortunately, I guessed the murderer. However, since that isn't a huge part of the book, I can overlook that. Ultimately, the book is about Rachel discovering what - and Who - love really is. When she does this, she's able to accept love - and Love - in her life. In the end, that's what everyone needs.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, thematic elements, drug abuse, severe family problems)
It seems trite to sum up an entire book with one word, especially a book as complex as this one, but I think an appropriate word to use in describing this book would be Love. On second thought, "Love" is correct, but "word" does not fit - "name" is better. Throughout the whole story, Rachel is searching for love, but not just everyday, happily-ever-after love; she's searching for Love, another name for God.
I didn't know quite what to expect from this book. In my experience, there are very few really Catholic novels out there. I knew authoress Michelle Buckman was Catholic before I started reading, but I thought perhaps she had diluted some of the Catholic elements she might have put in. I was wrong. While I don't think the Catholicism in this book would offend non-Catholics, Catholic teaching on suffering, love, healing, and many other things are woven into the story.
A particularly beautiful part is the St. Therese book that Rachel reads. Little snippets from St. Therese's autobiography are included in the story, and Rachel finds the Little Flower's reflections on Love, love, the dark night of the soul, and suffering to be comforting at the very least. Through St. Therese's gentle words and the kind friendship of a priest, Rachel finds the courage to open herself to Love.
Common misconceptions about Catholicism, specifically about statues and saints, are neatly explained in a few words by Rachel's priest friend. As a cradle Catholic, I found that short exchange to be pretty boring, but I'm glad Michelle Buckman took the time to show that Catholics really don't worship saints or statues in any sense of the word.
Despite and partly because of the rich Catholicism in this book, it is by no means family-friendly. Dark subject material is dealt with, from drugs (both prescription and recreational) and murder to extra-marital affairs and sexual abuse of minors. While everything is handled with delicacy and there isn't any truly explicit material, I would definitely recommend an older person pre-read this for any young teenager.
The dark is illuminated by some bright spots and moments, however. Characters like Ricky and Father Jacobsen show Rachel true compassion and love, helping her through the darkest period in her already dark life. A few beautiful moments like one in the hospital and another in the library are touching, and serve to lighten the book with little glimmers of hope.
Unfortunately, I guessed the murderer. However, since that isn't a huge part of the book, I can overlook that. Ultimately, the book is about Rachel discovering what - and Who - love really is. When she does this, she's able to accept love - and Love - in her life. In the end, that's what everyone needs.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, thematic elements, drug abuse, severe family problems)
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