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A New Lease on Christmas (2021)
Bad writing, bad acting, bad film
I saw this mess on ION TV yesterday while feeding my invalid mother her Christmas lunch. I don't believe how many people are singing the praises of this clumsy, awkward, deeply-cheesy-and-not-in-a-good-way awfulness.
I've watched a lot of Christmas movies over the years, and this is one of the worst I've seen.
Toy Story 3 (2010)
One of the most powerful films of all time. Yeah, I said it.
I took my (then-8 y/o) son Jake to see Toy Story 3 on opening night, as I had his older brother Eric with the other two files: Eric was 3 when the original Toy Story came out, and 7 when Toy Story 2 arrived. For more than 20 years, it's been a ritual for me to take my child to see a Toy Story film.
But this one .... this one was the best of a trilogy that started out great, and then somehow improved with each film. This was Pixar's masterpiece.
In my showing, the traumatically-intense furnace scene had half the audience crying, and most of the rest with their hands over their mouths in shock. It was one of the most nakedly emotional, powerful film scenes I can recall. My 8 y/o son and I were both flat out bawling, It is absolutely okay to cry at that scene; very few have ever even equaled, let alone surpassed, it in emotional intensity.
But then *spoilers* ... the Claw rescue by the three-eyed aliens. In our theater, some people **jumped up out of their seats** cheering, and almost everyone was either clapping, thrusting their fists in the air in relief, or cry-laughing. Some were doing all of them at once.
I've seen many hundreds of films in theaters over my 50+ years, and only rarely have I seen -- and even felt myself -- a spontaneous audience reaction like this. It was remarkable in the best possible way. Even 7 years later, it remains one of my all-time favorite in-theater experiences.
But the ending, when Andy gives his beloved companions new life by donating them to the imaginative and adventurous Bonnie ... every single adult I saw in the theater had tears in their eyes. One of the most emotionally-satisfying scenes ever.
It's alright to cry at things that emotionally touch you.
It's a good thing. It's why we have emotions.
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Conundrum (1992)
Meh episode - too many plot holes
As others have noted this episode is a veritable Swiss cheese of ridiculous plot holes, and I won't go into them.
I just saw a rerun of this episode last night and was struck by how poor the performance of "Commander MacDuff" was. His delivery was awkward and unnatural, as if he had just learned them minutes before -- without a chance to really internalize them -- and was simply reciting them by rote. His speech to Worf, in particular, had an awkward cadence without any natural flow.
I can't recall seeing this actor in anything else, so I can't tell if he was just having a bad week when filming this episode, or if that's just how he is.
WKRP in Cincinnati: In Concert (1980)
Not the best episode
But not as bad as some have made it out to be. The episode can be easily found in three chunks on youtube (just search for "WKRP In Concert").
First of all, though, Johnny wasn't promoting a concert by The Pretenders, he had just finished playing a song by them prior to taking calls for the Who concert ticket giveaway.
Second of all, I think (as the type of comedy show WKRP was and at the time it was on the air) that they did what they could to help draw attention to the long-standing problem with festival seating that this incident threw into sharp relief.
Third, I think "lost their lives" is perfectly appropriate, considering the time period. And in the closing text summation to the incident and Cincinnati's response, the producers use the words "On December 3, 1979, eleven people died outside Riverfront Colosseum". The point is made perfectly clearly what happened.
Yes the episode was kind of cheesy and awkward, but it was a cheesy and awkward era, and they were handling a tragic issue. It was not a great WKRP episode, but it was an important one, I think.
Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004)
Powerful, angry, emotional, populist and sometimes maddening
Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 is a cinematic bullet aimed at the administration of George W. Bush, and at the heart of the war in Iraq. By turns acidly funny, shocking and heart-wrenching, Moore's two hour op/ed piece challenges the legitimacy and qualifications of Bush, as well as the legitimacy and motivations behind America's most divisive conflict since Vietnam.
Moore has an obvious agenda and vivid viewpoint. This movie is not a 'fair and balanced' look at its subject matter, and never claims to be. Its point is made as clearly as if it were shouted through a bullhorn: George W. Bush, a president of uncertain ability and dubious ties, led the United States into an unnecessary war against a foe that posed no real threat. 'Why did he do this?' the film asks. 'Why do the family and business associates of those in power benefit the most, financially and in terms of influence, from their connections to this struggle? How have these links been used to further a pro-war agenda? Who is being protected from public scrutiny and why? What dark secrets lie behind the administration's public face of clear-eyed resolve?'
All these questions, and many more, are addressed in Moore's trademark style, mixing sarcastic smart aleck, zany comedian, clever investigator, muckraking gadfly, insightful humanist, and intense political firebrand.
There are few new accusations here. Most of these same points have been raised separately and in lesser combination many times before on television, in the nation's op/ed pages, in political think-tank analyzes, in dozens of books on all sides of the debate, and in the digital halls of the Internet. But never before has one side of the debate brought so much of the evidence together into such a ferocious and powerful statement of purpose.
'People of America,' the clear subtext shouts, 'you've been had! Ray Charles could have seen the underlying truth! You've been manipulated into supporting a war based on lies, half-truths and political expedience, with a generous helping of greed slathered on top!'
The movie features hilarity and screwy humor aplenty (witness the montage of Bush taking off the entire month of August 2001: golfing, fishing, playing with his dog, barbecuing, and boating, all set to the backing track of The Go-Gos 'Vacation'). But there is also a deep and abiding anger, directed mostly at those who walk the highest halls of power. Knowing that it does not portray itself as journalistically objective reportage helps one keep perspective on the film strengths and shortcomings.
Whatever those are, no one who sees this film will soon forget Lila Lipscomb. A working-class mother from a strongly military Michigan family, her son Ben is sent to Iraq as a Black Hawk helicopter crewman. She speaks to Moore in her kitchen about the worry of her eldest child being in such distant, hostile place, and how she 'always hated' anti-war protesters. This self-described 'conservative Democrat' tells of her patriotism and pride as she hangs the American flag on the front of her house (careful not to let it touch the ground), as she's done every day since her daughter served in Iraq during the first Gulf War. She talks movingly about the economic and social ills of such blighted towns as Flint, Michigan, where she runs an employment assistance center for the disadvantaged.
But Lila's worried loyalty to her country is transformed to disenchanted, confused pain when she is informed that her son has died in an attack on his helicopter. Surrounded by her solemn family, she heart-breakingly recounts receiving the fateful phone call from the Army, and its terrible aftermath. She breaks down in sobs as she reads Ben's final letter home, received a week before his death. Her sorrow unearths questions that had before lain hidden, and she is driven by a need to understand why her son died, and on what altar he was sacrificed.
Lila makes a pilgrimage to Washington to stand before the White House, the place where the decisions were made that led to her loss. As she speaks to a lone protester with a display of Iraq war images, a woman rushes into the frame. 'This is all staged,' she repeats with skepticism and ill-concealed contempt. Lila tells the woman that her son was killed in Iraq and the woman, unbelieving, challenges her. 'Where was he killed?' she asks. 'Where was he killed?' In a voice shaking with grief and suppressed fury, Lila answers 'In Karbala. On April 2nd.' The intruder simply stares, recognizing Lila's heartache, struck speechless by her passion and sincerity. The moment transcends the film's agenda, the terrible human cost to the families of the fallen eloquently overshadowing our national debate on Iraq.
This window on a mother's mourning provides Fahrenheit 9/11's most compelling and poignant scenes. Lila Lipscomb's grief is gut-wrenching and her pain transfixes the heart. It lends the film undeniable tragic weight.
Other sections are less successful. Much of Moore's tracing of links between President Bush's family, the terrorist-tolerating Saudi royals, and the bin Laden family comes off as a dry recitation of obscure connections and suspicious conjecture. While many of his uncomfortable questions deserve better answers than we've previously gotten, Moore consistently suggests a 'worst-case scenario' point of view. Perhaps some of the ties he makes are mere coincidence and happenstance, but realistically, can they all be?
Moore sarcastically lists the 'Coalition of the Willing,' countries that supported our Iraq invasion, with hilariously appropriate film snippets ('Romania' is accompanied by a grainy shot of Nosferatu rising from his coffin; 'The Netherlands' rates footage of a young man taking a huge hit of dope; 'Iceland' is backed by the black and white images of Viking reavers). But the list tellingly omits Great Britain, Italy and Spain. He obviously thought including them would lend the coalition more legitimacy than he is willing to give it.
Moore wisely stays off camera for the greatest part of the film, allowing his images, culled news footage, and cleverly chosen backing music to do much of the speaking for him. The grandstanding antics of his previous work are kept to a bare minimum here, and are all the more effective because of this. Armed with military recruiting brochures and enlistment forms, he stops Congressmen on the street, trying to get them to sign their own children up to serve in Iraq (according to Moore, only one of the hundreds of Congressional children are stationed there). One listens to him cordially while he makes his pitch; others either ignore him or actually flee. None of them sign the forms. Another gimmick finds him driving an ice cream truck around the legislature, reading the text of the Patriot Act through a loudspeaker. Representatives admit on camera that the labyrinthine bill was hurriedly proposed in the middle of the night and was voted in with little debate the next day, before most had the opportunity to actually read it. Many later regret their lockstep acceptance. This throws a stark spotlight on the old adage 'Legislate in haste, repent at leisure.'
Moore engages in cheap shots at the expense of our leaders, some all the more effective because they are only partially unfair. Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz looks particularly Gollum-like spit-combing his hair into place prior to a television appearance. Vice-president Cheney is portrayed as a zealot unconcerned with inconvenient facts. National Security Adviser Rice comes off as an intellectually dishonest apologist for the president's policies. John Ashcroft is painted as a political failure, rescued from deserved obscurity (after having lost a US Senate reelection bid to a dead man) when Bush appointed him as Attorney General.
But the brunt of the ridicule is saved for the president himself. Bush goofily mugs at off-screen colleagues just seconds before announcing our invasion of Iraq to the nation. He painfully stumbles through extemporaneous remarks to the public. On a golf course, he speaks to the press about weighty matters, and then clashingly switches gears, telling them all 'Now watch this drive.' He gets all of the ball, but his good old boy hominess belies the seriousness of the subject matter.
The president has made numerous ill-considered statements about Iraq, and Moore lets few of them go quietly. Bush, speaking to a very well-heeled crowd, calls them 'the haves and the have-mores. Some would call you the elite,' he smirks, 'I like to call you my base.' In the face of contrary evidence, he repeatedly ties Iraq to al Qaeda in speech after speech (to the effect that, in August of 2003, a full 70% of those polled falsely believed that Iraq was behind the September 11th attacks). He unwisely jokes on camera that running the country would be much easier if America were a dictatorship. In addresses to military personnel, Bush touts their courage and the nation's gratitude for their service, all the while (as Moore cannily points out) proposing cuts in their hazard pay, family assistance and veterans' services.
Michael Moore's stated intent with Fahrenheit 9/11 is to affect the outcome of the presidential election in November. Whether he has succeeded remains to be seen, but in the meantime, he will have at least sparked further debate, inspired more pointed questions, and touched the souls of all but the most hardened. He may even, with this potent juggernaut, have changed some fence-sitting minds.
There will be many who disagree with this movie and want it suppressed (the right-wing group Move America Forward has organized massive letter-writing campaigns and protests to discourage theaters from showing it; the White House Communications director ironically stated 'This is a film that doesn't require us to actually view it to know it's filled with factual inaccuracies.') Those Americans with less-pressing responsibilities will be well-advised to see Fahrenheit 9/11. Regardless of political leanings, it has much meaningful content to be considered.
All the vitriol (and there is plenty to go around) aside, this is an important film that cannot simply be ignored and dismissed out of hand. Cut off from the social and political turmoil this war has spawned, it would not be nearly as effective (which is why this film is unlikely to age well as a cinematic work). But falling as it does at the very height of the Iraq war's increasingly polarized and decreasingly civil debate, it strikes with the power of lightning. And, as they leave the theater, it resonates like thunder in the hearts and minds of the audience. What filmmaker could ask for more?
The Shining (1980)
One of the most effective horror films ever made
** a few spoilers **
This movie almost requires repeated viewings to deliver its full impact, with layer upon layer of quiet dread and small, seemingly mundane moments of bizarreness building up to a devastatingly terrifying climax. The devil here is in the details, and those well-thought-out, lovingly executed details add up to make this one of the intellectually complex and chilling movies of all time.
When I first saw this movie in the theater at 16, I thought it was creepy but it didn't really "get" to me until the end. Ahh the simple innocence of youth! The more I've watched it as I got older, though, the more I've appreciated the creepy subtleties of this masterpiece. It's like a good old Islay scotch; at first you might not like it much, but age and experience reveals the true depth of its quality.
Most people who deride this film do so because of Shelly Duvall's effective unattractive performance as the hapless and befuddled Wendy, and the fact that it doesn't follow King's masterpiece novel verbatim. I prefer to think of it as Kubrick's near genius-level reinterpretation of the basic theme of a man's slow, inexorable descent into howling madness.
Kubrick's trademarks are all here: the clinical, nearly static camera work (until the final whirlwind sequence, when Jack's mind is completely unhinged), the slow, deliberate pacing, Nicholson's stares of what I call "slack-jawed malevolence" (which effectively imply the disorder into which his psyche is sinking).
The film's few gaffes include the blood flood from the elevator and the charming Scatman Crothers' desperate rush to the Overlook through a terrible blizzard to save the Torrances from the hotel's evil, only to get an axe in the chest almost immediately upon reaching his goal. The film's dark virtues far outweigh these relatively minor quibbles, though.
Nicholson has been criticized for an "over the top" turn as Jack Torrance. I can think of no other actor who could have pulled off his bravura performance of a man, already hounded by the twin demons of alcoholism and writers block, who slowly (and at first unwillingly) gives himself over to the The Overlook's insidious evil. When his sanity finally crumbles, Nicholson's magnificently wicked leers and bestial facial expressions (especially when he unfurls those demonic eyebrows) give fascinating face to a fiend at long last set free to destroy. We all know in our heart of hearts that that same rough beast lurks within us all; some people's control of it is simply weaker than others'. He does overact, but he pulls it off with such masterful confidence and magnetic panache that is impossible to look away.
Small touches of brilliance abound: the contradictory feeling of claustophobia in the huge and vacant hotel; the subtle recurring color red throughout the film's sets (implying the bloody ruin to come); the familiar nursery rhymes and pop culture phrases turned on their ears in chilling fashion ("Little pigs, little pigs, let me in"); the boundless horror on Wendy's face when the spectres of the hotel finally reveal themselves to her during the climax. There are too many throwaway gems to mention. The more I see this film (I've seen it probably nine times so far), the more effective it's sense of creeping dread and impending doom resonate.
This movie is, in my humble opinion, the "Citizen Kane" of horror films and deserves every accolade that it has received and more. It is a dark gem by the greatest American film director.