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Archive for the ‘Movies’ Category

IMG_3743One of the items taken from Mom’s basement was this Victor Animatograph Corporation 16 mm Cine Projector, Model 11.  From the design of the machine, and the lettering, I’m guessing it dates from the ’30s.

It’s an impressive device, made with lots of metal and burnished plating and a sturdy wooden base.  It probably weighs between 20 and 30 pounds.  Amazingly, it still seems to work perfectly — with the the original fan, motor, and lens.  Even the original light bulbs haven’t burnt out!  Richard and I had some fun figuring out how to thread the film and marveling at the ingenuity of the design.

Unfortunately, we don’t have any 16 mm film to run through this this well-preserved projector.  The carefully made machine has outlived its form of technology, like a car that still runs perfectly but has no road to drive on.

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IMG_3634I knew Nashville held itself out as the Music City, and the home of country music.  I had no idea, however, that it was a place where middle America came to get tanked.

On Broadway, about 8 blocks from our hotel, is a riotous collection of bars, music venues, karaoke joints, t-shirt salons, and cowboy boot emporiums, all lit up like a Christmas tree against the Nashville night sky.  Throng of red-faced, boot-wearing folks crowd the sidewalks and jam into the bars, swilling beer and listening to an unknown group — some very good, some not so — do covers of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Jimmy Buffett, and Eric Clapton tunes.  On our walk tonight we saw bachelorette parties, rednecks ready to brawl, and families with kids, all ready to take in that Nashville ambiance.

With all the neon and motorcycles and crowds out on the streets, it reminded me somewhat of American Graffiti.  To complete the image, we saw a sign warning that there was to be “no cruising” from 9 p.m. to 3 a.m.

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The newest development in movie theater technology is called 4DX.  It hasn’t hit America yet, but it’s starting in Japan this spring, with Iron Man 3.

What is 4DX?  Basically, it sounds a lot like a theater version of a theme park ride.  Movies seats tilt in tune to the action, fog and wind blow into the faces of the moviegoers, odors are sprayed, strobe lights flash, and bubbles can drop down from the ceiling.  Of course, patrons who want to experience 4DX will pay for the privilege.  In Japan, the price for a 4DX ticket will be about double the price of a regular ticket.

Call me old-fashioned, but I think I can enjoy a movie without being jostled, assaulted by smells, and having things blown in my face.  In fact, all of that sounds pretty cheesy to me — like Smell-O-Vision, an effort to add something novel to an otherwise forgettable film.

I’ve enjoyed the Iron Man movies without all of the bells and whistles, and I’m hoping that the next installment can stand on its own merits.  I suspect that all of the 4DX effects would detract from my enjoyment of a film, rather than contribute to it.  I sure as heck would not pay more for them.

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Margaret Thatcher and Annette Funicello both died today.

During the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, Margaret Thatcher — the Iron Lady — was a titanic figure in Great Britain and the modern world.  She put backbone into the British Conservative Party, rolled back some of the socialist initiatives of the ’50s and ’60s, and was an outspoken advocate of capitalism and individual liberties.  She refused to give up the Falkland Islands to Argentina and fought a war instead, was a staunch ally to the United States under Ronald Reagan, and was a strong anti-Communist voice in the world.  Thatcher was the first woman to serve as Great Britain’s Prime Minister, and she led the Conservative Party for 15 years, from 1975 to 1990.  Years from now, Thatcher is likely to be recognized as one of the most significant historical figures of the 20th century.

Annette Funicello, on the other hand, was not a significant historical figure.  Instead, her impact was largely cultural.  She was one of the original Mouseketeers and, for those of us not quite old enough to remember The Mickey Mouse Club, she was the star, with Frankie Avalon, of a series of ridiculous “beach movies” that always seemed to be on TV when I was a kid.  Funicello was the voice of calm common sense and reason in a make-believe world where teenaged girls worried endlessly about whether to give their boyfriends a chaste kiss, motorcycle gangs were comedic relief, and a guy named Moondoggie and a cast of swimsuit-wearing teens might break into wild beachfront dancing at any moment.

Margaret Thatcher and Annette Funicello probably didn’t have a lot in common — yet each had her own, special impact on the world.  Each sported a hairdo that looked like hardened cotton candy and probably could break your nose.  Each left this mortal coil on April 8, 2013, and each will be missed.

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There’s a new TV show that’s being advertised constantly.  Call me a wuss if you will, but I can’t bring myself to watch it.

It’s Bates Motel — the back story, apparently, of Norman Bates and his mother, Norma.  Of course, Norman figured prominently in the Hitchcock thriller Psycho, where he donned his mother’s dress and ruthlessly stabbed to death a young woman taking a shower in the motel that Norman managed.  I think Psycho is one of the creepiest, most unsettling movies ever made, and Norman Bates is one of the creepiest, most unsettling movie characters ever conceived.  In view of that, why in the world would I want to see even more of young Norm and his unbalanced mother?  Is there really a big audience for a TV that tells their disturbing story?

Of course, if Bates Motel is successful it might start a trend.  Why stop at telling the bloody tale of only one horror movie icon?  No doubt other TV producers will begin searching for frightening film characters whose earlier days remain unexplored.  Some possibilities:  Little White, the moving, coming-of-age tale of an awkward young shark striving to become an unstoppable killing machine off the beaches of Amity in New England; Hockey Boy, the whimsical tale of Jason Voorhees, an uncoordinated youngster whose dreams of career in the NHL are foiled but who discovers he experiences strange new urges when he dons a hockey mask; and Vlad Ain’t Bad, a comedy about a white-skinned, cape-wearing exchange student from eastern Europe who fits right in with the Goth crowd then discovers an insatiable craving for corpuscles.

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We’re all partial to the uniforms of our favorite sports teams, of course, and I think the U.S. military uniforms are pretty darned cool.  But whenever a new Pope is selected, and we get a glimpse of the workings of the enclave of Cardinals, we must all grudgingly admit the truth: the uniforms of the Swiss Guard for the Vatican are the greatest uniforms ever.

I mean, look at these things!  Just look at them!  Multi-hued, horizontal-striped pantaloons, leggings, and tunics.  Huge shirtsleeve cuffs and ruffled, lacy collars that look like they belong in a Rembrandt painting.  Steel conquistador-style helmets with their sharply curved, pointed brims, burnished to a gleaming pewter glow and topped with bright red ostrich feathers.  And they carry pikes for weaponry.  Pikes!

With this one uniform, the Swiss Guard has managed to combine the rococo stylings and trappings of countless different military forces into one bold, harlequin-like statement.  These aren’t uniforms made for camouflage or sneaking up on an opponent, no sir!  No, the Swiss Guard will be going through the front door, beating a drum, tapping their pikes against the floor in rhythmic tempo, singing in perfect pitch, and doing intricate marching maneuvers like the Wicked Witch’s palace guard in the Wizard of Oz.

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Think back to your days at your old Alma Mater.

Perhaps you went to the University Flick, on High Street.  Or you went to the repertory theater in your college town.  Or you went to see the odd, often old, movies shown by your school’s film and cinema department.  Or, because you are just a perverse individual, you were fascinated by David Lynch’s epic Eraserhead.

Either way, when you were in college you got to see an eclectic mix of movies that you aren’t likely to see at your standard suburban multiplex.   It was a great time to watch movies, and talk about movies, and learn about movies.

Think about your college movie experience, and you’ll be more likely to appreciate Richard’s movie reviews for Vox — like his latest, of The Act of Killing.  It sounds like a great movie — but then, Richard has a talent for making just about every movie worth seeing.  If you have not subscribed to his Twitter feed, you’re missing out.  His thoughts are well worth hearing.

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The Morning Climb

IMG_1148Every morning, as part of my morning exercise regimen, I climb up the back stairs of the firm to the fifth floor.  Before I begin, I take a look all the way to the top, because the view reminds me of the movie Vertigo.  I crane my neck upward, get a little dizzy, then begin my trudge upward.

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On Sunday’s Oscars broadcast, First Lady Michelle Obama was the surprise presenter of the award for Best Picture.  What isn’t a surprise is that, in the wake of the Academy Awards show, some people have criticized her appearance as frivolous and not befitting her role as First Lady.

I’m heartily sick and tired of this kind of sanctimonious stuff.  I don’t see anything wrong with a First Lady participating in the Academy Awards broadcast if she wants to do so (although I’m not sure that, if I were the First Gentleman, I’d want to be part of the phony, kissy-face Hollywood scene).  It’s not as if Michelle Obama — or any other First Lady — is expected to be pondering weighty affairs of state at all hours of the day and night.  Even her husband, who unlike Michelle Obama was elected to his current leadership position, is not begrudged an occasional vacation, golf outing, or basketball game.  Why should anyone care if the First Lady wants to spend an hour of her time appearing on an awards show?

People who think First Ladies should act like Mamie Eisenhower are kidding themselves.  The line between politicians and celebrities has long since been blurred to non-existence.  Presidents and presidential candidates and First Ladies have been appearing on talk shows for years now; how is the Oscars broadcast materially different?  Hollywood is one of America’s most successful industries, one that employs a lot of people and generates a lot of income.  Would people object if the First Lady presented an award to, say, the Teacher of the Year or recognized the owner of a successful business that opened a new plant?  If not, why object to the First Lady’s acknowledgement of the film industry?

In our struggling country, Michelle Obama’s decision to present the Best Picture Oscar is the least of our concerns.  If the First Lady wants to share a bit in the glitz and glamor of Oscar Night, I’m not troubled by her decision.  Now, can we start talking about the real, important issues of the day?

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I’ve always wanted to go into space some day.  When I was a kid and Apollo missions were landing on the Moon every few months, that seemed like a real possibility.  Sci-fi features like 2001:  A Space Odyssey forecast that routine commercial travel to the Moon would be available a decade ago.  Of course, that didn’t happen . . . and now time seems to be running out.

But perhaps there’s still a chance for 50-something space traveler wannabes like me.  Virgin Galactic is nearing completion of the beautiful, futuristic spaceport shown at left, called the Virgin Galactic Gateway to Space, in the New Mexico desert.

The company plans on beginning passenger service in 2014.  When the spaceport is operational, would-be astronauts will board a small rocket plane tethered to a mother ship.  When the mother ship reaches a point nine miles above the earth, the rocket plane will be launched, the rocket will be ignited, the passengers will experience 3 gees of force as they zoom through the upper atmosphere until they encounter the blackness of space.  The pilot then will cut the rocket engine and the passengers will experience four minutes of weightlessness and have a chance to enjoy a view so vast they can see the curvature of the Earth.  Then the plane will reenter the atmosphere, hurtle back to Earth, and land on the spaceport’s long runway.

All this will be available to the average Joe — provided the average Joe can pony up $200,000 for the experience.  If I had millions of dollars in the bank, I’d do it.  Because I don’t have that kind of coin, however, I’ll just bide my time and hope that competition brings the price of space down to more manageable levels so that, someday, a codger like me will be able to enjoy the wonders of space.

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Richard has started writing movie reviews for Vox, a magazine published by the Columbia Missourian.  You can read his first Vox film review, of the animated feature Escape From Planet Earth, here.

Movie reviews serve an important public purpose.  Movies are increasingly expensive — some theaters here charge $9.50 a ticket, which is real money — and a fair but cautionary review can allow you to avoid wasting your hard-earned cash on abysmal Hollywood dreck.

It’s also important, however, to find a reviewer who tends to look at the film world the same way you do.  Some reviewers like only the artsy, highbrow stuff and sneer at any mainstream fare.  Those folks could be the finest review writers in the world, but their reviews aren’t going to do much for me, because the Hollywood offerings are typically what I like to watch.  I don’t want a reviewer who hates everything that comes out of Tinseltown, I need someone who can differentiate the crappy, uninspired blockbuster from the one that really packs a punch.

Based on Richard’s past reviews published right here on Webner House, I think he gives pretty good guidance on what to watch and what to avoid.

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William Shakespeare’s gravestone states, in part:  “Blessed be the man that spares these stones,  And cursed be he that moves my bones.“  Now the historical figure behind one of Shakespeare’s most famous literary creations — Richard III — might well share that sentiment.

Scientists in Great Britain launched a careful search for the remains of Richard III, and they are convinced they found them — buried beneath an ordinary parking lot.  King Richard III reined for only two years and was killed in the Battle of Bosworth Field, where Shakespeare’s Richard III famously cried:  “A horse!  A horse!  My kingdom for a horse!”  The dead king’s body was taken to Leicester, England, where it was buried in a church called Greyfriars.  But the church was demolished during the Reformation in the 16th century, and its exact location was lost in the mists of time.  Historians later determined the location of the church, which is now occupied by a parking lot.  They unearthed remains that had been buried in a hurriedly prepared, too small grave, compared the DNA of the remains to the DNA of a seventeenth-generation descendant of Richard III’s sister, and confirmed from the DNA match that the remains were indeed those of the former king.

The remains show that Richard III was not hunchbacked — as he is often depicted — but rather was the victim of scoliosis, a condition that causes a marked curvature of the spine.  The remains also show that Richard III was treated very rudely at the Battle of Bosworth Field.  His skull was pierced by a sharp blade, another part of it was cut away, and it bore the evidence of six other injuries to the face and head.  The rest of his skeleton revealed two injuries, including marks on the pelvis that suggests that the king may have taken a spear up the keister from one of the victors on the battlefield.  No wonder he wanted a horse!

I’ve always thought that Richard III was one of Shakespeare’s greatest plays, and that the Richard III he created was one of his most memorable characters.  (If you’re interested in the play but far away from Stratford-upon-Avon, the 1995 film of Richard III, starring Ian McKellen as a Richard transplanted into a modern fascist world, is excellent.)  The identification of the remains of the king — which now will be more appropriately interred — just add another interesting chapter to the tale of a fascinating historical figure.

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It’s February 2 — Groundhog Day — and somewhere east of here, Punxsatawney Phil has already been summoned from his burrow and failed to see his shadow.  That means we’re in for an early spring.

Much as I admire Punxsatawney Phil and his prognostication abilities, when I think of Groundhog Day I think of the classic Bill Murray movie of the same name.  In my view, Groundhog Day is one of the best movies made in the last 25 years — alternately hilarious, moving, and thought-provoking, too.  It also sounds some very interesting religious themes, such as in this scene, where Bill Murray admits that he is just “a god, not THE God” and speculates that perhaps God isn’t omnipotent but just has been around so long he knows everything there is to know.

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Argo is an excellent movie about getting six Americans out of Iran after the U.S. embassy was taken in 1979 and the seemingly endless hostage drama began.

It’s one of those films that’s “based on true events.”  I’ve always wondered what that means, so after enjoying Argo I did some checking on how much it deviates from the actual events.  The BBC has a good comparison of reality versus the Hollywood version, and the answer is — Argo deviates quite a bit.  A good rule of thumb when watching the movie is that anything that seems especially dramatic is either invented or highly modified.

Still, Argo is a very enjoyable, high-tension ride.  As Iranians breach the gates and pour into the U.S. compound, six embassy employees escape.  They make it to the Canadian embassy, and then American government has to decide how to get them out.  Ben Affleck plays a CIA operative who is trained to extricate people from hostile territory, and he concocts the idea of having the six Americans play Canadians scouting for locations for a fake sci-fi movie called Argo.  The first part of the movie follows Affleck as he sets up a phony production company, buys a script, and sells the idea to his CIA bosses; the last half of the movie sees Affleck in Iran, rallying the six Americans and steering them to their hair-raising escape.

Affleck — who I’ve always viewed as something of a cinematic lightweight — is excellent as CIA agent Tony Mendez.  John Goodman and Alan Arkin bring humor to the Hollywood end of the film, and Bryan Cranston turns in a fine performance as a CIA official.  The actors playing the six Americans hoping to be freed are entirely believable as terrified people who feel that the noose is tightening but don’t know what they can do about it.  Those of us who lived through the Iranian hostage crisis will cringe at the scenes of the embassy being taken, the declarations of the hostage takers, and the mistreatment of the hostages themselves; more than 30 years later, I was surprised to learn that I still feel intense anger about the entire episode.  You’ll also shake your heads, I predict, at the classic ’70s hairstyles, bushy moustaches, and vintage clothing.  The ’70s were, indeed, an exceptionally ugly decade for fashion.

Go see Argo, if you haven’t seen it already.  It’s exciting Hollywood fare — but don’t forget that it’s Hollywood fare.

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The next installment in the venerable Star Trek franchise is called Into Darkness and will be released this summer.  The official trailer has hit the theaters.  Richard and I saw it when we took in The Hobbit a few weeks ago, and it looks awesome.

I think the original Star Trek characters — Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Scotty, and Sulu — are in very good hands with J.J. Abrams at the helm, and the new cast is excellent.  In the first Abrams-directed episode, the film changed history and thereby veered away from the Star Trek back stories that would otherwise have limited the possible story lines in the new version.  I expect Abrams to spring all kind of surprises, and that sounds good to me.

The new film looks like it takes a long and pointed look at the arrogance and overconfidence of one James T. Kirk, and that’s a story that definitely needs telling.  I can’t wait!

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