Apocalypto

Don't bother. I am beginning to think The Passion was a fluke.

Here we have (this would be a spoiler alert if the ending wasn't so obvious from the get-go) the energizer bunny hero dancing on the boundary between the improbable and the impossible, all the while remaining firmly in the predictable. Add some hokey synth "world" music and a good dose of Deus ex machina (OK, Mel, having that come with a friar bearing the Cross was cute) and you have it. Oh yeah, and gobs of blood.

Now, anything that shows how bloody and awful Mayan/Toltec/Aztec civilizations were is probably a good dose of reality in a culture that thinks that all Indians were nature-loving peacemongers whose world was cruelly destroyed by the mean Europeans. However, couldn't Gibson have come up with a better story?

In 1502 they must have already had the telegraph, because the ending was obvious from about the third scene.

Anyway, I am beginning to think that Mel has a fetish for blue paint (and, well, blood). Perhaps he should have just gone DADA and had Jaguar Paw deliver his fist-shaking manifesto in a Scottish brogue. At least it would have been funny. And we can all be thankful that the film did not come with a rant about the Jews starting all those wars (or the tagline: Mesoamerican Slaughter: the holocaust even Hutton doesn't deny).

On the good side of the ledger, it was visually appealing, even with the muppet Jaguar, and offered an interesting view of what a Mayan city looked like. Coming home, I pulled out a couple of Mexican history books, and it seems that the costumes were pretty accurate (I never realized that the ghetto-chic thing of putting jewels in the teeth had pre-Columbian antecedents, but I found two sources describing this, so I imagine that it is pretty accurate).

My rating is low: one star (better than Cats, but, hey, what isn't?). It seems, from reports from the girls, that Charlotte's Web is the better film. I am sure I will be seeing it on DVD when it comes out. I will not be seeing Mel's Turkey again.

Off to the Movies!

I am going to see Apocalypto this afternoon, so I will be able to give my report this evening. Or tomorrow. Did I mention how much I like vacation pace?

The girls went off to see Charlotte's Web, which, if it is good, I will end up seeing on DVD anyway, and only my Dad and I are interested in bloody films set in pre-Columbian Mexico.

Anyway, is it possible to improve on the cute cartoon version of Charlotte?

What next? Remaking Mary Poppins?

By the way, one of the best reasons to have a goose on Christmas, besides the fact that it tastes so good, is that you end up with large quantities of goose fat as well as large quantities of goose stock. Goose stock is one of those great staples that every house should have once in awhile. It makes the best risotto (and, when turned into a double stock with veal bones, will go into our New Years Eve dinner of French Onion Soup).

So, do yourself a favor and roast a Christmas goose. It would make a great centerpiece for an Epiphany dinner.

Also, on the topic of food: now's the time for roasted beets. They are easy to cook and very yummy, especially with chunks of warm goat cheese.

However, as much fun as it is to wax ecstatic over food, it is time to go indulge in Mel Gibson's strange vision.

Santa Stalin or Hitler Claus?

We finally saw Polar Express, which was, overall, an amusing experience. Peculiar animation, some rather goofy moments, a character playing a lute-backed hurdy-gurdy (wins big points from me for that), overall worth seeing once.

However, the images of Santaklausstadt in the North Pole were kind of creepy, as in Albert Speer-choreographed creepy. "Heil Santa!" He even appeared in a Leni Riefenstahlesque manner. I mentioned this last night to a friend who replied, "no, I think it is a more Stalinisitic Santa."

Either way, very creepy, and immediately gets my demented little brain working overtime, thinking up other twists on the already twisted commercialized world of Secularchristmas.

Perhaps in the Speer-designed world of the North Pole they gather around and sing "Adolf, the Blue-Eyed Reindeer." The movie is much like the classic Rudolph, except that in the end absolutely everyone dies, and takes three hours doing it with bizarre remote-key modulations built around the deceptive use of dominant seventh resolutions, and then the author comes out and talks about the culmination of art, music, religion and myth for another eight hours.

Now, the proof that Santa is a commie is well known (wears red, distributes toys evenly to all the children, something else. I can't remember exactly). But can you see him chortling "Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh!" Or "Mao-ey Christmas!"

No, this is not how the television show goes, but we all know, "the revolution will not be televised."

And whitey's on the moon.

The Harder They Come

Mentioning The Harder They Come got me to thinking about the film. It so happened that we were at the video store on Monday, and I saw it as I passed through the foreign film section, so I picked it up. It has, after all, been quite some time since I saw it last, so I wanted to see what I thought of it now.

I still like it, although it is not without faults. For instance, Ivan's situation, while all too common, is presented a little heavy handedly. It could have been a lot stronger if it were presented with a bit more complexity. I don't want to put in any spoilers, because it is a very good movie (with some very interesting shots of Jamaica), and one of the best soundtracks ever compiled, so you should rent it. One word of warning: the language is technically English, but it might take you a while to get into it, if you have not had experience with Carribean patois, especially those of lower class Kingston. It is not quite as opaque as Third World Cop, which was (poorly) subtitled, but it will make most American viewers want to sit forward and pay careful attention to fully grasp what they are saying.

I should also warn you that there are naughty bits.

Overall, however, it is a good story and a beautifully shot film.

I Think I Have Been Very Good!

So, it has been a few days since I posted any YouTube clips, so I don't feel so bad posting this brilliant 29 second long tribute to the great Ray Harryhausen:

Deutschland uber...vas?

Here is a great video for those of you who like all things German.

Sometimes the New Yorker is just Grand

I have not read The Da Vinci Code, nor will I. Contrary to the liberal current assumptions, one need not read every book in the world in order to "fairly evaluate it."

Next time some liberal says something to that effect, ask them what they thought of the middle part of Mein Kampf.

Some books are trash, and some directors are capable of making films that are little more than trash. It might be well loved trash, but no one is going to accuse Mr. Howard of being a serious artist.

So, without having read the book, nor seen the movie, nor having any plans at either, I am still on pretty safe ground to say that this Da Vinci nonsense is trash. I have it on multiple, good authorities.

Now, the New Yorker is a hit and miss proposition. The name says it all: smug, insular, but more often than not, right. It is the journal of blue staters, many of them smart, and all of them sure of their smartness, which is a little better than the smugness of red staters, but I am sure that the loyalists of the Republicans and Democrats will perfectly despise spending eternity with each other.

Anyway, I love when I find bits like this in the New Yorker. I have yet to read my dead tree version, so I have to thank Julie for pointing this out.

Da Vinci Code

I find it a bit sad that anyone sees the need for a Catholic boycott of the Da Vinci Code film. Why would any Catholic care to waste time in a film like this to begin with?

I can understand the Catholic urge to patronize crap that is nice and pious. After, we might find the message worthy, even though the artistry is cringe-worthy. Fine. We give them $10 and a couple of hours of our miserable lives, a couple of hours we will never get to have back again...anyway, and think, "well, that was a stinkbomb, but their hearts are in the right place and maybe next time they will make a movie that is only mildly atrocious." They won't, but it never hurts to be optimistic.

But if an overblown Hollywood film comes out with a preposterous premise, why would we bother? I can't even see the need to discuss it (please note that this post, in spite of its title, is not about it at all, rather about the sad fact that Catholics, as much as anybody else, seem to have the urge to toss away money and time on crappy film). A boycott? Irrelevant. I have the same inclination to see this dud as I do any film by Steven Spielberg, which is none. Yawn. I have Wings of Desire on DVD, which I am almost always in the mood to watch. Why would I spend money on a film simply because all of the idiots around the watercooler are talking about it?