Well, this Nordic flick did not have the likes of Dolph Lundgren, Ivan Drago, or, Brigitte Nielsen in it.
Arn, got that going for it.
Not much else.
Arn, got that going for it.
Not much else.
Reviews
19 Reviews
Stander
(2003)
Melancholy Look at the Mythology that was the 'Stander Gang'
12 January 2014
Warning: Spoilers
Having resided in the Transvaal during the 80s when the 'Stander Gang' rode the high veldt while pillaging and robbing banks at every turn they maneuvered their 1982 Ford Cortina XR6 Interceptor, I can safely vouch now and from a great distance, that the historicity of the film is somewhat accurate. Well, with some minor reservations...
But I won't say the same for the 'tone', make that, theme. This film, which had the potential to be gute South African cinema was cast almost entirely with a huge liberal bent; way too much PC for my liking. To wit, the director tries hard, maybe even succeeds (with unsuspecting viewers) to portray Andre Stander, former S.A. Police detective, now turned hoodlum/mayhem master as a black benefactor. Make no mistake: the real Stander was no such thing. On the contrary, he was an opportunist; he only sought avenues for quick, easy plunder. It came in the form of easy pickings; always in the form of robbing banks; sometimes his gang knocked over four branches a day. Some twice!
And Stander always enjoyed the fruits of his labors. He had a penchant for fast cars: the likes of several yellow Porsche Carerras hardly escaped his lusting eyes. The same can be said for the other forms of ostentatious debauchery: fast women, probably drugs, clubbing and wining and dining in the trendy Joburg suburbs of Mayfair and Sandton; just to name a few.
But Stander had help. The South African media also had a penchant for debauchery. Their non-stop 24/7 coverage no doubt fanned the flames of this budding myth. As if scripted, Stander and his gang would never disappoint either. At the hint of a hot lead or the attraction of a pretty, young teller longing for her 15 minutes of fame, the infamous gang would always burst on the scene. As expected, the media hounds never missed a scent and the chance to further expound the bank robbers meteoric rise to stardom.
More often than naught, the brazen robbers were well received in the newspapers as well as on the S.A.B.C. TV channels. Both of them. The Gang, was now officially the Republik's own version of Robin Hood; but the motley trio was never given a 'merry band of fellows' moniker though.
Thomas Jane gives a good/bad account of the main man: Andre Stander. His two accomplices, Allan Heyl and Lee McCall were well portrayed as well; so were the entire supporting cast members and extras. The sets of 70s/80s Joburg were expertly re-constructed: all too eerily, realistic.
Ofter during the viewing, I felt s strong longing to return home. But not back to the future...
But I won't say the same for the 'tone', make that, theme. This film, which had the potential to be gute South African cinema was cast almost entirely with a huge liberal bent; way too much PC for my liking. To wit, the director tries hard, maybe even succeeds (with unsuspecting viewers) to portray Andre Stander, former S.A. Police detective, now turned hoodlum/mayhem master as a black benefactor. Make no mistake: the real Stander was no such thing. On the contrary, he was an opportunist; he only sought avenues for quick, easy plunder. It came in the form of easy pickings; always in the form of robbing banks; sometimes his gang knocked over four branches a day. Some twice!
And Stander always enjoyed the fruits of his labors. He had a penchant for fast cars: the likes of several yellow Porsche Carerras hardly escaped his lusting eyes. The same can be said for the other forms of ostentatious debauchery: fast women, probably drugs, clubbing and wining and dining in the trendy Joburg suburbs of Mayfair and Sandton; just to name a few.
But Stander had help. The South African media also had a penchant for debauchery. Their non-stop 24/7 coverage no doubt fanned the flames of this budding myth. As if scripted, Stander and his gang would never disappoint either. At the hint of a hot lead or the attraction of a pretty, young teller longing for her 15 minutes of fame, the infamous gang would always burst on the scene. As expected, the media hounds never missed a scent and the chance to further expound the bank robbers meteoric rise to stardom.
More often than naught, the brazen robbers were well received in the newspapers as well as on the S.A.B.C. TV channels. Both of them. The Gang, was now officially the Republik's own version of Robin Hood; but the motley trio was never given a 'merry band of fellows' moniker though.
Thomas Jane gives a good/bad account of the main man: Andre Stander. His two accomplices, Allan Heyl and Lee McCall were well portrayed as well; so were the entire supporting cast members and extras. The sets of 70s/80s Joburg were expertly re-constructed: all too eerily, realistic.
Ofter during the viewing, I felt s strong longing to return home. But not back to the future...
Faith Like Potatoes
(2006)
Miraculous? Maybe not. But Still a Delightful Surprise
23 September 2013
Warning: Spoilers
For sure, the producers have brought to bear some simple Biblical truths. And then they expounded on those to create a masterpiece film. Better yet, this film is a wonderful real life testimony to getting to know the universal and heavenly glory that is the, One, True Living God. The journey begins with Faith; matters little if the source is in the form of a tiny mustard seed or of something more common and useful. Like a dusty yet moist but always forever tasty mouth watering spud! I like mine mashed.
But I'm miffed as to why others would come on this site just to spew their vitriol for this film. Makes no sense when the target audience is altogether conspicuously disclosed in the title: FAITH like Potatoes. Guess they can can't help themselves. OK. We get it...
Back to the main points...
This film chronicles the plight of a white family's struggle to carve out an existence in Southern Afrika: plot weaves along nicely. Start to finish. The main character Angus Buchan, and his family fall on hard times. This necessitates selling the farm in Zambia. And then getting out. In a hurry. Taking what little possessions they have including a small stash of money ostensibly the proceeds left over from the sale, Angus begins the Exodus. Quickly he discovers a trail. It heads due south. More important, they'll steer free and clear of Zambia.
And Angus doesn't stop until the Peugeot wagon reaches the Republik: South Afrika. There he does what he knows best. He immediately buys another farm. Thus setting him and his family up for me to quote the old adage: History does repeat itself! The setting now is the bushveldt. They don't even have living quarters. An old travel trailer is the sole item available for shelter. It has to do even though it looks like squalor.
Now thoroughly ensconced in the new wilderness, Angus, begins the arduous task of tilling ground so that he can break bread each evening with his family. Although the going is tough, he enlists the help of the local natives. Some he is endeared to. Others are fired. Almost immediately. But Angus plows ahead.
The local South Africans are all too soon enamored with the transplanted ex-Rhodie Scot. They take him to the inner sanctum of the town's life as one of their own. But, Angus takes to drinking. A lot! He's unhappy; confides all his miseries to an understanding wife. She though can't handle his moods.
Then one bright shining Sunday morning the whole family winds up sitting in the front pews of the Methodist Church. Now hogtied, Angus hears first hand a testimonial of a recent 'conversion'. The South African oke spoke in earnest. I believed him. Not Angus though. He can't handle the truth; he heads straight to the ladies bar; he consoles himself much in the brandy; even shares his miseries with the town's policeman, who, is sympathetic and is in much need of company himself. The two bond.
At that point, there's just enough foreshadowing that suggests that God has other plans. A church elder attests to that same sentiment. His candor speaks aloud. "I believe God is tugging at your heart. Angus, you're a good man." And he, er, God was right.
Thereafter, Angus though unwittingly begins pondering the existence of God. He does this mainly while lounging amongst the corn stalks. Seriously, right then I was concerned for Angus' safety; hoped that those lingering, sneaky puff adders obeyed God's word too. No worries. Out of the blue, the epiphany light shone down....
Overall, this film despite it's low budget was better than I expected. The acting is superb. The disparate characters all fit the plot. And the cinematography though digital does deliver some breathtaking views of the Suid Afrikan bushveldt. And of course, the message was that Faith is the first step to know God. If you took that leap then you soon learned that the next step was equally important: Trust in the Lord. Angus did. Even when his mates told him that he had eaten too much mielie meal. But what did they know...
Now it's entirely apropos that I thank all those who helped make this film happen; that in itself is a miracle. One can only hope that there are more Christians out there. Just like you. Who in the blink of an eye would do the same; stand in the breach for the Faith.
Shalom.
But I'm miffed as to why others would come on this site just to spew their vitriol for this film. Makes no sense when the target audience is altogether conspicuously disclosed in the title: FAITH like Potatoes. Guess they can can't help themselves. OK. We get it...
Back to the main points...
This film chronicles the plight of a white family's struggle to carve out an existence in Southern Afrika: plot weaves along nicely. Start to finish. The main character Angus Buchan, and his family fall on hard times. This necessitates selling the farm in Zambia. And then getting out. In a hurry. Taking what little possessions they have including a small stash of money ostensibly the proceeds left over from the sale, Angus begins the Exodus. Quickly he discovers a trail. It heads due south. More important, they'll steer free and clear of Zambia.
And Angus doesn't stop until the Peugeot wagon reaches the Republik: South Afrika. There he does what he knows best. He immediately buys another farm. Thus setting him and his family up for me to quote the old adage: History does repeat itself! The setting now is the bushveldt. They don't even have living quarters. An old travel trailer is the sole item available for shelter. It has to do even though it looks like squalor.
Now thoroughly ensconced in the new wilderness, Angus, begins the arduous task of tilling ground so that he can break bread each evening with his family. Although the going is tough, he enlists the help of the local natives. Some he is endeared to. Others are fired. Almost immediately. But Angus plows ahead.
The local South Africans are all too soon enamored with the transplanted ex-Rhodie Scot. They take him to the inner sanctum of the town's life as one of their own. But, Angus takes to drinking. A lot! He's unhappy; confides all his miseries to an understanding wife. She though can't handle his moods.
Then one bright shining Sunday morning the whole family winds up sitting in the front pews of the Methodist Church. Now hogtied, Angus hears first hand a testimonial of a recent 'conversion'. The South African oke spoke in earnest. I believed him. Not Angus though. He can't handle the truth; he heads straight to the ladies bar; he consoles himself much in the brandy; even shares his miseries with the town's policeman, who, is sympathetic and is in much need of company himself. The two bond.
At that point, there's just enough foreshadowing that suggests that God has other plans. A church elder attests to that same sentiment. His candor speaks aloud. "I believe God is tugging at your heart. Angus, you're a good man." And he, er, God was right.
Thereafter, Angus though unwittingly begins pondering the existence of God. He does this mainly while lounging amongst the corn stalks. Seriously, right then I was concerned for Angus' safety; hoped that those lingering, sneaky puff adders obeyed God's word too. No worries. Out of the blue, the epiphany light shone down....
Overall, this film despite it's low budget was better than I expected. The acting is superb. The disparate characters all fit the plot. And the cinematography though digital does deliver some breathtaking views of the Suid Afrikan bushveldt. And of course, the message was that Faith is the first step to know God. If you took that leap then you soon learned that the next step was equally important: Trust in the Lord. Angus did. Even when his mates told him that he had eaten too much mielie meal. But what did they know...
Now it's entirely apropos that I thank all those who helped make this film happen; that in itself is a miracle. One can only hope that there are more Christians out there. Just like you. Who in the blink of an eye would do the same; stand in the breach for the Faith.
Shalom.
Traitor
(2008)
TORTUOUS TRASH; - 10 and Not Fahrenheit either
9 June 2013
Warning: Spoilers
Based on the glitzy DVD jacket, I didn't see it coming: the disappointment
Had I bothered to read the credits, I would have drop-kicked this one back to the bargain bin's bottom. Writer: Steve Martin? Are you kidding me? Inspector Clousseau should have made a cameo. For certain, this oh so dreary spy/political film was in dire need of comedic moments. EG. How about a word from the disgraced Inspector. "Hello, my friend the internet."
Speaking of comedy, why'd they include Jeff Daniels? He of little or no faith added nothing to the already convoluted, Ahem, plot. A good 'bad' example. When he and Cheadle tried to disguise their clandestine meeting after a crazed terrorist 'friend' showed up (unannounced) I half expected Harry to blurt out what he does best. "I'm shaving!"
BANG! BANG! One and Dunn. Dead. Gone! Even his designer threads could not belie this mistake in casting. And it showed. Jeff, even stood out. In the rain. Fake though it was.
I'll back it up a bit...
This film lacks substance. And a plot. And some good intelligent subterfuge. But what it lacked in substance it more than made up for in horrible acting. Don Cheadle, as the lead character, Samir Horn, the American Muslim-come-lately but always high on Koran quotations is unconvincing. To wit, we don't know who Samir is-was-or his wannabees.
For hours Cheadle's expression is rigid; speech is stunted; his interaction (other than a few clumsily staged karate chop-chop scenes) with the other characters both baddies and goodies is bizarre.
Same case can be made for the pursuers: the FBI. Guy Pearce as 'good cop' Roy Clayton is a study in twisted logic. Not the J. Edgar type we have grown accustomed to. Other than a constant grimace and an over pierced U.S. Southern accent, Pearce, like the film, looks tortured for the most part. Acts like it too. Make that all the time.
Ditto. For his partner in anti-terrorism, Max Archer (here we go again with those fake designer labels) played by ex-Hawaii 5-0 cop, Dano. Er, make that Neil McDonough.
In appearance, the whole FBI anti-terrorism central command skits are knock-offs and really sound like episodes from CNN's Wolf Blitzer's 'Situation Room'. Martin, perhaps should have wrote this horrible script for the fake newscasters instead. Sans the comedy...
Moreover, the Muslim terrorists are equally bad-good-inept. Depending on which verse of the Koran is quoted. Even Pearce gets into the act. He, of deft/daft intellect is so quick to wipe the crime slate clean; for any heinous deed, including murder. In his defense Guy growls: "The Koran says so. So did my Baptist Minister daddy." Guess this line was necessary. To create religious tension. So far, the marauding Crusaders of yore are spared blamed. That title is reserved for America. All of its people. No one is spared. Then a toast. The terrorists raise their champagne glasses. But not to Allah. Unless the flutes are without alcohol. Righttt...
And chief terrorist, bottle-washer and bag-man, Nathir, played by Raad Rawi, who likes to hold mens' hands in tightwad prayer circles comes across, well, like TV's Monk. Looks like Tony too!
Hard for me to find a bright spot. There were some glimpses. Fleeting though. Those came in the form of Mozhan Marno, as 'Leyla'. Including the classic rock song may have pushed Martin's I'm-to-be-taken serious boundaries. Seriously, where were those?
Time for one more, memorable but deplorable designer moment. Another fake name. Maybe straight out of People Magazine: Archie Panjabi, as, Chandra Dawkin. No doubt about this one: another fake and useless character inclusion.
Won't torture you anymore. Do yourself a favor. Don't rent or buy this foible of a film. That was really all about horse chit. And dumb chatter. Except for Harry Dunn. Jeff's only real, believable character.
Had I bothered to read the credits, I would have drop-kicked this one back to the bargain bin's bottom. Writer: Steve Martin? Are you kidding me? Inspector Clousseau should have made a cameo. For certain, this oh so dreary spy/political film was in dire need of comedic moments. EG. How about a word from the disgraced Inspector. "Hello, my friend the internet."
Speaking of comedy, why'd they include Jeff Daniels? He of little or no faith added nothing to the already convoluted, Ahem, plot. A good 'bad' example. When he and Cheadle tried to disguise their clandestine meeting after a crazed terrorist 'friend' showed up (unannounced) I half expected Harry to blurt out what he does best. "I'm shaving!"
BANG! BANG! One and Dunn. Dead. Gone! Even his designer threads could not belie this mistake in casting. And it showed. Jeff, even stood out. In the rain. Fake though it was.
I'll back it up a bit...
This film lacks substance. And a plot. And some good intelligent subterfuge. But what it lacked in substance it more than made up for in horrible acting. Don Cheadle, as the lead character, Samir Horn, the American Muslim-come-lately but always high on Koran quotations is unconvincing. To wit, we don't know who Samir is-was-or his wannabees.
For hours Cheadle's expression is rigid; speech is stunted; his interaction (other than a few clumsily staged karate chop-chop scenes) with the other characters both baddies and goodies is bizarre.
Same case can be made for the pursuers: the FBI. Guy Pearce as 'good cop' Roy Clayton is a study in twisted logic. Not the J. Edgar type we have grown accustomed to. Other than a constant grimace and an over pierced U.S. Southern accent, Pearce, like the film, looks tortured for the most part. Acts like it too. Make that all the time.
Ditto. For his partner in anti-terrorism, Max Archer (here we go again with those fake designer labels) played by ex-Hawaii 5-0 cop, Dano. Er, make that Neil McDonough.
In appearance, the whole FBI anti-terrorism central command skits are knock-offs and really sound like episodes from CNN's Wolf Blitzer's 'Situation Room'. Martin, perhaps should have wrote this horrible script for the fake newscasters instead. Sans the comedy...
Moreover, the Muslim terrorists are equally bad-good-inept. Depending on which verse of the Koran is quoted. Even Pearce gets into the act. He, of deft/daft intellect is so quick to wipe the crime slate clean; for any heinous deed, including murder. In his defense Guy growls: "The Koran says so. So did my Baptist Minister daddy." Guess this line was necessary. To create religious tension. So far, the marauding Crusaders of yore are spared blamed. That title is reserved for America. All of its people. No one is spared. Then a toast. The terrorists raise their champagne glasses. But not to Allah. Unless the flutes are without alcohol. Righttt...
And chief terrorist, bottle-washer and bag-man, Nathir, played by Raad Rawi, who likes to hold mens' hands in tightwad prayer circles comes across, well, like TV's Monk. Looks like Tony too!
Hard for me to find a bright spot. There were some glimpses. Fleeting though. Those came in the form of Mozhan Marno, as 'Leyla'. Including the classic rock song may have pushed Martin's I'm-to-be-taken serious boundaries. Seriously, where were those?
Time for one more, memorable but deplorable designer moment. Another fake name. Maybe straight out of People Magazine: Archie Panjabi, as, Chandra Dawkin. No doubt about this one: another fake and useless character inclusion.
Won't torture you anymore. Do yourself a favor. Don't rent or buy this foible of a film. That was really all about horse chit. And dumb chatter. Except for Harry Dunn. Jeff's only real, believable character.
Nixon
(1995)
Nixon: Poor Redux; more like (sour) mashed over 'All of the President's Men/JFK'
26 December 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Maybe overall the film wasn't that bad but many times the 'plot' descended into the pits/depths of poor cinema. Oliver Stone, if his intent was to portray former President Nixon in a sensitive even sympathetic light, the final cut didn't attest to that fine sentiment.
Yeah, there were some poignant scenes that sort of cast the brooding politician often photographed with a permanent five-o'clock shadow in a cleaner, shinier light. For example... President Nixon's encounter with some student protesters at the Linclon Memorial comes to mind: especially the exchange with the 19 year old female. Her assertion pierced Nixon deep. I paraphrase:
"So, you're powerless."
Nixon's response though was mere fodder for the next volley.
"No... Change takes time. I am able to control the 'system' some of the time."
The girl pounced on that one.
"Sounds like a wild animal."
Really, that's about the only scene where Stone cut President Nixon some 'slack.
Then there's the drinking bouts. In this film, everyone drank and drank like there was no tomorrow, no presidency. Only occasionally and for mere seconds did any of the cast stop to eat/breathe/despair. By my count, Mr. President had 60 double whiskeys in a little over two hours. Now if you mix in the champagne cocktails and Texas chili dogs, Dick, was well over the legal limit for breathalizing with civility.
The good...
Anthony Hopkins, in his portrayal of 'Treeky Dick' gave a good account of himself but maybe not that of the real man. The supporting cast were just that. No one member stood out or forward as outstanding. And there were plenty of moments where some subordinate should have grabbed the baton and done something, anything useful. For sure, Stone didn't coach them in any strong direction. Too much ad-liberalism...
The bad...
Why mention Howard Hunt and then not follow up on the foreshadowing? Better yet, why cast Ed Harris as the mystery man if in the film he was relegated to holding the bag-man? Makes no sense but helps the plot meander...
The ugly...
If you're going to be kind, Oliver, please cut the cursing. Even Bob, scuza me, J. Edgar Hoover said as much. Yes, presidents who occasionally curse are no less presidential. Seems to me though that Stone wanted to cast a crooked, accusatory finger at Nixon even while the latter gazed affectionately at the larger than life portrait of the famous and much beloved Civil War president, Lincoln.
That's a bit unkind.
OK, Nixon paid his vows (when the camera was on him) to IKe's portrait as well but no homage what-so-ever to John's. And whenever the besieged President Nixon encountered the real white house ghost, Dick followed the script but not before he poured a drink. Then he punted.
Summation...
Oliver's film shed little if any new light on who Mr. Richard Milhouse Nixon really was. To wit, Stone's rendition is a mere whitewash of what he could/should have done for the disgraced former President: tell the truth. In that regard, this film didn't even probe the surfaces.
I'm more befuddled than ever. My guess: so is the surviving Nixon family. They and Richard Nixon deserved better. Hope history is as kind to the man as Henry Kissinger portended.
Yeah, there were some poignant scenes that sort of cast the brooding politician often photographed with a permanent five-o'clock shadow in a cleaner, shinier light. For example... President Nixon's encounter with some student protesters at the Linclon Memorial comes to mind: especially the exchange with the 19 year old female. Her assertion pierced Nixon deep. I paraphrase:
"So, you're powerless."
Nixon's response though was mere fodder for the next volley.
"No... Change takes time. I am able to control the 'system' some of the time."
The girl pounced on that one.
"Sounds like a wild animal."
Really, that's about the only scene where Stone cut President Nixon some 'slack.
Then there's the drinking bouts. In this film, everyone drank and drank like there was no tomorrow, no presidency. Only occasionally and for mere seconds did any of the cast stop to eat/breathe/despair. By my count, Mr. President had 60 double whiskeys in a little over two hours. Now if you mix in the champagne cocktails and Texas chili dogs, Dick, was well over the legal limit for breathalizing with civility.
The good...
Anthony Hopkins, in his portrayal of 'Treeky Dick' gave a good account of himself but maybe not that of the real man. The supporting cast were just that. No one member stood out or forward as outstanding. And there were plenty of moments where some subordinate should have grabbed the baton and done something, anything useful. For sure, Stone didn't coach them in any strong direction. Too much ad-liberalism...
The bad...
Why mention Howard Hunt and then not follow up on the foreshadowing? Better yet, why cast Ed Harris as the mystery man if in the film he was relegated to holding the bag-man? Makes no sense but helps the plot meander...
The ugly...
If you're going to be kind, Oliver, please cut the cursing. Even Bob, scuza me, J. Edgar Hoover said as much. Yes, presidents who occasionally curse are no less presidential. Seems to me though that Stone wanted to cast a crooked, accusatory finger at Nixon even while the latter gazed affectionately at the larger than life portrait of the famous and much beloved Civil War president, Lincoln.
That's a bit unkind.
OK, Nixon paid his vows (when the camera was on him) to IKe's portrait as well but no homage what-so-ever to John's. And whenever the besieged President Nixon encountered the real white house ghost, Dick followed the script but not before he poured a drink. Then he punted.
Summation...
Oliver's film shed little if any new light on who Mr. Richard Milhouse Nixon really was. To wit, Stone's rendition is a mere whitewash of what he could/should have done for the disgraced former President: tell the truth. In that regard, this film didn't even probe the surfaces.
I'm more befuddled than ever. My guess: so is the surviving Nixon family. They and Richard Nixon deserved better. Hope history is as kind to the man as Henry Kissinger portended.
Hitler's S.S.: Portrait in Evil
(1985 TV Movie)
Title Says It All
11 July 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Easily the best film I've seen on the grim subject. And it's British to boot (no pun intended)!
It's 1931 inside the Weimar Republic. The first scene opens with S.A. leader Ernst Rohm giving a rabble rousing speech to his loyal followers. Of course, pugnacious leader Rohm and the storm troopers all wore their infamous brown shirts. The uniforms too are not exactly cut from the Ralph Lauren designer stable. Still that bland color helped to convey the dim even dire mood of the German populace at the time.
Although, I still don't know why Rohm broke from spitting invective in German to finishing his fiery rhetoric in Cockney English. Ah, yes, there's that British connection.
In the hall, we catch a first glimpse of Karl, one of two Hoffman brothers. He believes in Hitler's Reich. And in fact, Karl's so smitten that he's convinced the odd mustachioed political upstart would preserve the trade unions and all those other misconceived values that pure socialists so esteemed.
'Not so', says his older and supposedly wiser college educated brother, Helmut. However he too is soon caught in the spreading Nazi web. Soon, make that right way, Helmut abandons his own dreams. He quits his studies at the university after meeting, face-to-face, toe-to-toe, and point-to-point his new mentor: Reinhard Heydrich, number two in the S.S. chain of command. Of course, Heinrich Himmler heads the soon to be notorious men dressed in black Nazi killing machine. His wire rimmed spectacles though give him (his bad intentions) away.
Now the S.A and the S.S are savagely competing for the hearts and minds of the populace, especially the army. And those two diametrically opposing forces form the basis of the plot. We watch, as first Karl then too soon Helmut both get drawn into the killer vortex of Nazism. We even catch some good dark glimpses of the evil mind behind the evil devices: Reich Chancellor Adolph Hitler.
The soon to be appointed Fuhrer doesn't disappoint in a cinematic sense either. During 'The Night of the Long Knives' black coated Hitler delivers one of the more 'memorable' lines. His diabolical reply to the captive S.A. leader is almost bone chilling. It was to me.
"What have you done? You're traitors! You will all be shot!"
No doubt about it: that in-character outburst set the tone for the rest of the bloody scene and the entire film. Know what I mean? Moreover, the Wehrmacht was on move. Poland was targeted. And on the horizon, the German Panzer Divisions had already sighted in Mother Russia.
Too bad none of the world's civilized took Hitler's threats seriously. Well, only after the wholesale slaughter of innocents, did Britain and the U.S.A. mobilize and finally declare war on Germany .
Alas, too little, and way too late.
It's 1931 inside the Weimar Republic. The first scene opens with S.A. leader Ernst Rohm giving a rabble rousing speech to his loyal followers. Of course, pugnacious leader Rohm and the storm troopers all wore their infamous brown shirts. The uniforms too are not exactly cut from the Ralph Lauren designer stable. Still that bland color helped to convey the dim even dire mood of the German populace at the time.
Although, I still don't know why Rohm broke from spitting invective in German to finishing his fiery rhetoric in Cockney English. Ah, yes, there's that British connection.
In the hall, we catch a first glimpse of Karl, one of two Hoffman brothers. He believes in Hitler's Reich. And in fact, Karl's so smitten that he's convinced the odd mustachioed political upstart would preserve the trade unions and all those other misconceived values that pure socialists so esteemed.
'Not so', says his older and supposedly wiser college educated brother, Helmut. However he too is soon caught in the spreading Nazi web. Soon, make that right way, Helmut abandons his own dreams. He quits his studies at the university after meeting, face-to-face, toe-to-toe, and point-to-point his new mentor: Reinhard Heydrich, number two in the S.S. chain of command. Of course, Heinrich Himmler heads the soon to be notorious men dressed in black Nazi killing machine. His wire rimmed spectacles though give him (his bad intentions) away.
Now the S.A and the S.S are savagely competing for the hearts and minds of the populace, especially the army. And those two diametrically opposing forces form the basis of the plot. We watch, as first Karl then too soon Helmut both get drawn into the killer vortex of Nazism. We even catch some good dark glimpses of the evil mind behind the evil devices: Reich Chancellor Adolph Hitler.
The soon to be appointed Fuhrer doesn't disappoint in a cinematic sense either. During 'The Night of the Long Knives' black coated Hitler delivers one of the more 'memorable' lines. His diabolical reply to the captive S.A. leader is almost bone chilling. It was to me.
"What have you done? You're traitors! You will all be shot!"
No doubt about it: that in-character outburst set the tone for the rest of the bloody scene and the entire film. Know what I mean? Moreover, the Wehrmacht was on move. Poland was targeted. And on the horizon, the German Panzer Divisions had already sighted in Mother Russia.
Too bad none of the world's civilized took Hitler's threats seriously. Well, only after the wholesale slaughter of innocents, did Britain and the U.S.A. mobilize and finally declare war on Germany .
Alas, too little, and way too late.
Split Second
(1999 TV Movie)
Not Bad for a BBC Film; Not Good Either
23 May 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Now I've seen a younger Clive Owen in action; well, not exactly.
His actions outside the occasional head-butt are limited in this flick. It's supposed to be about road rage but the film didn't really delve too deeply in the subject. Much rather, it meandered all over the map. Specifically I saw some nice shots of Edinburgh, atop the bridge.
Clive's cast as a corporate lawyer on the verge of 'losing it'. Gathered, at the center of his personal maelstrom was much pressure from his job. You know:dog-eat-dog work environment. OK, they don't eat that stuff over there.Probably their diet consisted of Cornish hens and haggish.
Soon we're taken 'behind the scenes. Clive's home life doesn't help him either. His wife's one bossy nag; his best mate or 'droogie' (also a lawyer) is hooked on drugs; feeds those to Michael (Clive) too. Then his best mate's girlfriend enters the fray. She's almost overt with her intentions. To wit, she's got a bead on Clive, too but for something other than legal services.
In short, we don't hear or see nearly enough from the victims of the crime (traffic fatality): the deceased cyclist's girlfriend or his family. This BBC drama's all about Clive, his career, his needs, his sacrifices. (He even screams the last bit, aloud). Throw everyone else under the bus (two tier), if you may.
They did...
Last word: everyone in the film is unhappy. That is standard British fare for the 1990s. Still, did they have to go to such boring lengths to make their point, time and again. Hey, BBC...
I got it but I'm not buying anymore.
Something else...
Stanley Kubrick's 'Clockwork Orange' dealt with these all too banal British type topics with ease. More important, he did so by limiting the 'sleaze ball' factor. BBC, pay more attention!
His actions outside the occasional head-butt are limited in this flick. It's supposed to be about road rage but the film didn't really delve too deeply in the subject. Much rather, it meandered all over the map. Specifically I saw some nice shots of Edinburgh, atop the bridge.
Clive's cast as a corporate lawyer on the verge of 'losing it'. Gathered, at the center of his personal maelstrom was much pressure from his job. You know:dog-eat-dog work environment. OK, they don't eat that stuff over there.Probably their diet consisted of Cornish hens and haggish.
Soon we're taken 'behind the scenes. Clive's home life doesn't help him either. His wife's one bossy nag; his best mate or 'droogie' (also a lawyer) is hooked on drugs; feeds those to Michael (Clive) too. Then his best mate's girlfriend enters the fray. She's almost overt with her intentions. To wit, she's got a bead on Clive, too but for something other than legal services.
In short, we don't hear or see nearly enough from the victims of the crime (traffic fatality): the deceased cyclist's girlfriend or his family. This BBC drama's all about Clive, his career, his needs, his sacrifices. (He even screams the last bit, aloud). Throw everyone else under the bus (two tier), if you may.
They did...
Last word: everyone in the film is unhappy. That is standard British fare for the 1990s. Still, did they have to go to such boring lengths to make their point, time and again. Hey, BBC...
I got it but I'm not buying anymore.
Something else...
Stanley Kubrick's 'Clockwork Orange' dealt with these all too banal British type topics with ease. More important, he did so by limiting the 'sleaze ball' factor. BBC, pay more attention!
Good
(2008)
Not Good Enough, Not Even Close
4 May 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Not expecting 'Masterpiece Theater', I rented this flick hoping that it explored an interesting theme: mercy killing or euthanasia. It didn't happen.
The director/producers not only forgot to 'explain' the link between the nutty literary professor (Mortensen) but they completely gave up on exploring the facets of the Nazi fascination. Yes, in one scene we glean some snippets. Even there the 'subject' is fumbled then abandoned.
Instead the actors switch to their normal mold: wooden, stunted speech using a modern English vernacular. Can you imagine the horror on hearing SS Command barking orders with a Cockney accent? That obtuse behavior actually happened all the time in this film!
The whole film was horrid. There was no fluidity to the scenes. It's obvious that this low budget flick was cobbled together in any old disjointed fashion. And it showed.
And why do these nouveau rich breed of directors resort to inserting a porn scene when all else fails? Well, we know the answer but I'm still tired of this schickt. Now, it happens all the time. Well, the director hails from Brazil, so... Nah!
This film is about as far from redemption as Judas was from the Cross. It should not have been released from the cutting room floor. Even better: toss it on the pile of books to be burned. The director even bungled that scene. Actually there was no rhyme or reason for any of the scenes.
Then why'd they release it? Can't wait to hear their answer, not.
The director/producers not only forgot to 'explain' the link between the nutty literary professor (Mortensen) but they completely gave up on exploring the facets of the Nazi fascination. Yes, in one scene we glean some snippets. Even there the 'subject' is fumbled then abandoned.
Instead the actors switch to their normal mold: wooden, stunted speech using a modern English vernacular. Can you imagine the horror on hearing SS Command barking orders with a Cockney accent? That obtuse behavior actually happened all the time in this film!
The whole film was horrid. There was no fluidity to the scenes. It's obvious that this low budget flick was cobbled together in any old disjointed fashion. And it showed.
And why do these nouveau rich breed of directors resort to inserting a porn scene when all else fails? Well, we know the answer but I'm still tired of this schickt. Now, it happens all the time. Well, the director hails from Brazil, so... Nah!
This film is about as far from redemption as Judas was from the Cross. It should not have been released from the cutting room floor. Even better: toss it on the pile of books to be burned. The director even bungled that scene. Actually there was no rhyme or reason for any of the scenes.
Then why'd they release it? Can't wait to hear their answer, not.
Day of Wrath
(2006)
Day of Wrath = Cinematic Disaster. In English: Rubbish
23 April 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Despite its all-star cast (Christopher Lambert, Brian Blessed, James Faulkner) this film falls flat. And it happens right from the opening scene. Thereafter, it's caught in a never ending free fall. Last glimpse, this trash production spiraled straight into the abyss.
This should have been an interesting tale. After all, at its core theme is the Spanish Inquisition. How can you muck that up? Well, the Mexican director did. As an excuse he proffered.
"We in Mexico knew about the Inquisition. Europe on the other hand much rather chose to hide it."
Uh, sure you did. And if he had such esoteric knowledge which he wanted to share, it didn't appear on film. Instead he offered us the usual: porn, bloody gore and much stilted acting even dreadful humor.
The script was fine. The problem was that the actors/director failed to 'execute' (scuza the pun). This failure of epic proportions is most noticeable in the dialog. Unfortunately the speeches were well, oh so wooden.
Here's a prime example. Ruy (Lambert) a main character the town's honest but too much of a wine-imbibing servant addresses his mother.
"There you go again. You speak in a mystery language. I'm confused."
Want another one? The new Governor (Brian Blessed) tries to act contrite in the confessional with the Inquisitor's much prying (real) priest.
"Bless me father for I have sinned. Blah, blah, blah...(he does say these banal words). In the name of the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit."
Holy Cow! Even at that early 'flash' point, I wanted to puke.Too late. The Inquisition was in session. It had to get better, but I was wrong. Make that, the director took another tangent. It seems he sailed back to Mexico, where he belongs.
The film though did have a few redeeming qualities. One came in the form of a Hungarian mercenary (played by a real Magyar). Blessed hired him. So, how could he not be good/bad?
The second was in the costume and set designs. Both were masterpieces. And its no small wonder. Again, real Magyars worked behind the scenes. Like me, they would not settle for anything less than all world perfection. At least the Magyars got their act together.
You may already have guessed: the author too is a real Hun, by the way of Sicily though.
This should have been an interesting tale. After all, at its core theme is the Spanish Inquisition. How can you muck that up? Well, the Mexican director did. As an excuse he proffered.
"We in Mexico knew about the Inquisition. Europe on the other hand much rather chose to hide it."
Uh, sure you did. And if he had such esoteric knowledge which he wanted to share, it didn't appear on film. Instead he offered us the usual: porn, bloody gore and much stilted acting even dreadful humor.
The script was fine. The problem was that the actors/director failed to 'execute' (scuza the pun). This failure of epic proportions is most noticeable in the dialog. Unfortunately the speeches were well, oh so wooden.
Here's a prime example. Ruy (Lambert) a main character the town's honest but too much of a wine-imbibing servant addresses his mother.
"There you go again. You speak in a mystery language. I'm confused."
Want another one? The new Governor (Brian Blessed) tries to act contrite in the confessional with the Inquisitor's much prying (real) priest.
"Bless me father for I have sinned. Blah, blah, blah...(he does say these banal words). In the name of the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit."
Holy Cow! Even at that early 'flash' point, I wanted to puke.Too late. The Inquisition was in session. It had to get better, but I was wrong. Make that, the director took another tangent. It seems he sailed back to Mexico, where he belongs.
The film though did have a few redeeming qualities. One came in the form of a Hungarian mercenary (played by a real Magyar). Blessed hired him. So, how could he not be good/bad?
The second was in the costume and set designs. Both were masterpieces. And its no small wonder. Again, real Magyars worked behind the scenes. Like me, they would not settle for anything less than all world perfection. At least the Magyars got their act together.
You may already have guessed: the author too is a real Hun, by the way of Sicily though.
Imagining Argentina
(2003)
What a Ridiculous film about Argentina's Darkest Period. Imagine that (they didn't).
11 April 2012
Warning: Spoilers
If you have to resort to chicanery including the likes of clairvoyance, many explicit scenes of sodomizing 'actors', child rape and other equal horrors to get your message across well then you should place 'phony' in your title.
Not only was the film's major theme (unlawful detention of political opponents) overshadowed by the much porn shooting, the whole purpose for producing this trash remains unclear.
The producers/directors/actors together should be ashamed for participating in this folly. By far this is the 'worst of the worst' of any international films I've viewed.
Moreover, I can't believe that anyone would financially back such poppycock. Well, believe it or not, they did but to their disgrace.
This film doesn't even deserve a single star. Really, I wish I could get back the whole two hours I wasted.
Not only was the film's major theme (unlawful detention of political opponents) overshadowed by the much porn shooting, the whole purpose for producing this trash remains unclear.
The producers/directors/actors together should be ashamed for participating in this folly. By far this is the 'worst of the worst' of any international films I've viewed.
Moreover, I can't believe that anyone would financially back such poppycock. Well, believe it or not, they did but to their disgrace.
This film doesn't even deserve a single star. Really, I wish I could get back the whole two hours I wasted.
Five Minutes of Heaven
(2009)
Sometimes A Man Finds Redemption on the Road He Chose to Avoid It
2 April 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Those are not my words. However, they're a good titular fit for this brave film.
Finally one filmmaker chose to take a closer look. And then he had the courage to expose the human aftermath of terrorist deeds. In this case, the setting is Northern Ireland, near the capitol, Belfast. For sure many of us are well familiar with the sectarian violence that gripped the emerald isle, long as I can remember.
And for decades the international media gave us frequent snapshots of the 'progress'. We either saw the bloody carnage scene of a pub blown up by the Provos or we were transported to cemetery. There the grief stricken members of a Catholic family laid to rest one of their own. Usually it was a young male Catholic, 'freedom fighter' if you will.
Most likely he suffered a violent fate. And no doubt he was murdered by the IRA's sworn enemies: the Protestant Orangemen. These Brit zealots usually banded together in select (and outlawed) groups. Two organizations featured prominent: the UVF (Ulster Volunteer Force) or the RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary).
In the film, Alistair Little (Liam Neeson) sides with the Protestants. Why not? He's born there. He's one of them. Then as a teenager he volunteers to join their 'cause'. As an act of loyalty he murders in cold blood, a Catholic contractor. The victim's younger brother, Joe Griffen, witnessed the brutal scene.
James Nesbitt portrays the lad, now grown to man size almost 30 years later. At the behest of an Irish TV program, Nesbitt agrees to meet the murderer. They would chronicle and film the emotion charged 'live' meeting.
Still plagued by guilt of not warning his slain brother, Nesbitt lacks the courage to follow through. Moreover, he has serious doubts about the 'reconciliation' process. Northern Ireland isn't South Africa.
Liam Neeson too suffers from guilt over his earlier life. Even though he was incarcerated for 11 years he's not convinced that fact or act of contrition will placate Nesbitt. He too has doubts about this encounter.
This film explores their eventual impromptu mano-y-mano meeting later. That occurs late in the film after the original planned,orchestrated televised 'interview' failed. With much pain filled emotional depth we the viewers are called to witness the latter tumultuous event.
With as much sensitivity as they could possibly serve, the producers and the director handled all the scenes as true professionals. Still, they did not shirk their duty to broader humanity either. They let it all play out: the good, the bad and the all too ugly.
And I'm glad they chose that 'honest' tact. Anything less would have been, well, fluff.
One final note...
Both Neeson and Nesbitt gave stirring, moving performances in reprising their real life characters.
Bravo...
Finally one filmmaker chose to take a closer look. And then he had the courage to expose the human aftermath of terrorist deeds. In this case, the setting is Northern Ireland, near the capitol, Belfast. For sure many of us are well familiar with the sectarian violence that gripped the emerald isle, long as I can remember.
And for decades the international media gave us frequent snapshots of the 'progress'. We either saw the bloody carnage scene of a pub blown up by the Provos or we were transported to cemetery. There the grief stricken members of a Catholic family laid to rest one of their own. Usually it was a young male Catholic, 'freedom fighter' if you will.
Most likely he suffered a violent fate. And no doubt he was murdered by the IRA's sworn enemies: the Protestant Orangemen. These Brit zealots usually banded together in select (and outlawed) groups. Two organizations featured prominent: the UVF (Ulster Volunteer Force) or the RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary).
In the film, Alistair Little (Liam Neeson) sides with the Protestants. Why not? He's born there. He's one of them. Then as a teenager he volunteers to join their 'cause'. As an act of loyalty he murders in cold blood, a Catholic contractor. The victim's younger brother, Joe Griffen, witnessed the brutal scene.
James Nesbitt portrays the lad, now grown to man size almost 30 years later. At the behest of an Irish TV program, Nesbitt agrees to meet the murderer. They would chronicle and film the emotion charged 'live' meeting.
Still plagued by guilt of not warning his slain brother, Nesbitt lacks the courage to follow through. Moreover, he has serious doubts about the 'reconciliation' process. Northern Ireland isn't South Africa.
Liam Neeson too suffers from guilt over his earlier life. Even though he was incarcerated for 11 years he's not convinced that fact or act of contrition will placate Nesbitt. He too has doubts about this encounter.
This film explores their eventual impromptu mano-y-mano meeting later. That occurs late in the film after the original planned,orchestrated televised 'interview' failed. With much pain filled emotional depth we the viewers are called to witness the latter tumultuous event.
With as much sensitivity as they could possibly serve, the producers and the director handled all the scenes as true professionals. Still, they did not shirk their duty to broader humanity either. They let it all play out: the good, the bad and the all too ugly.
And I'm glad they chose that 'honest' tact. Anything less would have been, well, fluff.
One final note...
Both Neeson and Nesbitt gave stirring, moving performances in reprising their real life characters.
Bravo...
North Face
(2008)
Nordwand: Forget the Swastikas; enjoy the Adventure ***Spoilers***
17 March 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Big picture this: it's 1936 in the 'old world'. Post-depression Europe is just awakening from the dredges of a dark period. At center stage though awaits Germany. Now the cacophonous chant, 'Heil Hilter', echoes throughout resurgent Deutschland. Well, in the film that catchy phrase is decried at least five times. Once though, I heard 'Bye Hilter'!
The new Chancellor, Mr. Hilter had grand designs for his people. And with the capitol, Berlin, hosting the Summer Olympics what better stage was there to set out on world domination?
For sure, the Third Reich is in search of fresh heroes. Hilter dearly wants to showcase the German youth's indomitable spirit. The whole world watched with tense anticipation.
Two young Bavarian Alpinists, Toni Kurz and Andi Hinterstoisser are dolefully deployed as hard boots down on the ground in the Wehrmacht's Bavarian Mountain Brigade. Often we are shown that these two German recruits dream of greater heights, ostensibly far away from the army. Mr. Hilter and his band of merry henchmen dream big too. The rest of Europe though shudders at learning those lofty thoughts.
Soon, both the would-be adventurers and the Deutsch Reich find a common target. Their goal is to scale Europe's last unscaled mountain: the Eiger North Face. However, local lore gave it a different name: the Ogre Face.
Located in the Swiss canton of Berne, the Eiger peak poses a formidable challenge. A year earlier, the towering granite peak claimed the lives of two other ace Munchen mountaineers: Karl Sedlmayer and Max Mehringer.
Enter the German media at the behest of the Nazi Propaganda Ministry...
Luise, an aspiring reporter with the Berliner Zeitung also hails from the same Bavarian village as the two main protagonists. Straight away she's hot on their tail (Toni's). So are two Austrian crack mountaineers.
The Austrian duo too aspires to be good Nazis. And the 'true' German males have visions of grandeur. Their mission from on high is financed by none other than their local SA chapter. It couldn't be any other way. They said so!
Now we have all the right ingredients for a grand spectacle. If you can set aside the 'politiks' couched in most sentences, 'North Face' is a fine film about courage and grace under extreme pressure. Hemingway would've approved of the movie script. I'm sure of that.
Along the way director, Phillip Stolzl even hints that 'love' is indeed the motivation behind everything. Work, play, ambition, desire and even sport are all affected by this magical elixir. Why else would man take to scaling high mountains while battling their inner selves as well as nature? And the Eiger rising straight up to more than 13,000 feet proves to be a worthy challenge even fearsome foe.
On the other hand, the Austrian team competition lends its hands/feet/heads though unwittingly to help speed fate to the pinnacle. For certain, the film's finale is nothing short of a spellbinding, heart pounding adventure at its zenith.
No doubt, Nordwand is the epitome of all mountain climbing films; I haven't seen its equal.
My verdict is this: a perfect 10 Stars.
Alleluia!
The new Chancellor, Mr. Hilter had grand designs for his people. And with the capitol, Berlin, hosting the Summer Olympics what better stage was there to set out on world domination?
For sure, the Third Reich is in search of fresh heroes. Hilter dearly wants to showcase the German youth's indomitable spirit. The whole world watched with tense anticipation.
Two young Bavarian Alpinists, Toni Kurz and Andi Hinterstoisser are dolefully deployed as hard boots down on the ground in the Wehrmacht's Bavarian Mountain Brigade. Often we are shown that these two German recruits dream of greater heights, ostensibly far away from the army. Mr. Hilter and his band of merry henchmen dream big too. The rest of Europe though shudders at learning those lofty thoughts.
Soon, both the would-be adventurers and the Deutsch Reich find a common target. Their goal is to scale Europe's last unscaled mountain: the Eiger North Face. However, local lore gave it a different name: the Ogre Face.
Located in the Swiss canton of Berne, the Eiger peak poses a formidable challenge. A year earlier, the towering granite peak claimed the lives of two other ace Munchen mountaineers: Karl Sedlmayer and Max Mehringer.
Enter the German media at the behest of the Nazi Propaganda Ministry...
Luise, an aspiring reporter with the Berliner Zeitung also hails from the same Bavarian village as the two main protagonists. Straight away she's hot on their tail (Toni's). So are two Austrian crack mountaineers.
The Austrian duo too aspires to be good Nazis. And the 'true' German males have visions of grandeur. Their mission from on high is financed by none other than their local SA chapter. It couldn't be any other way. They said so!
Now we have all the right ingredients for a grand spectacle. If you can set aside the 'politiks' couched in most sentences, 'North Face' is a fine film about courage and grace under extreme pressure. Hemingway would've approved of the movie script. I'm sure of that.
Along the way director, Phillip Stolzl even hints that 'love' is indeed the motivation behind everything. Work, play, ambition, desire and even sport are all affected by this magical elixir. Why else would man take to scaling high mountains while battling their inner selves as well as nature? And the Eiger rising straight up to more than 13,000 feet proves to be a worthy challenge even fearsome foe.
On the other hand, the Austrian team competition lends its hands/feet/heads though unwittingly to help speed fate to the pinnacle. For certain, the film's finale is nothing short of a spellbinding, heart pounding adventure at its zenith.
No doubt, Nordwand is the epitome of all mountain climbing films; I haven't seen its equal.
My verdict is this: a perfect 10 Stars.
Alleluia!
Flame & Citron
(2008)
Tiny Denmark Launches a Just Thunderbolt at Former Nazi Occupiers
1 March 2012
It's not often that I laud a film revolving around Nazis.
With 'Flame and Citron', a Danish film, I've made notable exception. Everything felt good, right from the steel gray sky on down: the script, props, costumes, even the major 'watering' holes.
The plot moved forward almost as fast as that sordid period lasted in Denmark. The actors especially those who portrayed the two main characters were plausible. Even the Nazi occupiers gave good support though as fierce opposition; better make that as brutal suppressors of the Danish 'resistance'.
One prominent Nazi, Herr Hoffman, even as the Copenhagen SS chief at times appeared almost, well, human. Maybe that wasn't the director's intent. However, from where I sat, that was the impression Hoffman gave.
On the other hand, the wiry rimmed Gestapo chief's many speeches/soliloquies added little to the plot's progression. Often Hoffman's own words revealed his dark nature. That was expected given who is employers were, no?
Not well versed in Danish history, especially concerning that turbulent WW II period, my instincts scream that this film 'told the truth'. And as macabre as many scenes were, my sympathies still lay with the Danes. My guess is the period's experts would share my opinion.
Even against daunting odds, brave little Denmark put up a dogged, albeit costly fight. The Big Nazi War Machine though won, (I think); that's no surprise. No doubt that the two main protagonists, Flame and Citron, as the Resistance's crack enforcers played a most pivotal even momentum changing role.
And the film's producers/director gave much credence to that perspective, right to the sad end. My wish is that more films of this genre were produced in the same excellent 9mm caliber.
Alas, in that same regard, there's a conspicuous absence of these true 'gems' in the cinema trade. Moreover, Hollywood studios could learn much from the Danish film industry.
And you can take that to the Krone bank.
With 'Flame and Citron', a Danish film, I've made notable exception. Everything felt good, right from the steel gray sky on down: the script, props, costumes, even the major 'watering' holes.
The plot moved forward almost as fast as that sordid period lasted in Denmark. The actors especially those who portrayed the two main characters were plausible. Even the Nazi occupiers gave good support though as fierce opposition; better make that as brutal suppressors of the Danish 'resistance'.
One prominent Nazi, Herr Hoffman, even as the Copenhagen SS chief at times appeared almost, well, human. Maybe that wasn't the director's intent. However, from where I sat, that was the impression Hoffman gave.
On the other hand, the wiry rimmed Gestapo chief's many speeches/soliloquies added little to the plot's progression. Often Hoffman's own words revealed his dark nature. That was expected given who is employers were, no?
Not well versed in Danish history, especially concerning that turbulent WW II period, my instincts scream that this film 'told the truth'. And as macabre as many scenes were, my sympathies still lay with the Danes. My guess is the period's experts would share my opinion.
Even against daunting odds, brave little Denmark put up a dogged, albeit costly fight. The Big Nazi War Machine though won, (I think); that's no surprise. No doubt that the two main protagonists, Flame and Citron, as the Resistance's crack enforcers played a most pivotal even momentum changing role.
And the film's producers/director gave much credence to that perspective, right to the sad end. My wish is that more films of this genre were produced in the same excellent 9mm caliber.
Alas, in that same regard, there's a conspicuous absence of these true 'gems' in the cinema trade. Moreover, Hollywood studios could learn much from the Danish film industry.
And you can take that to the Krone bank.
Catch a Fire
(2006)
Film Could Easily Have Been 'Hot Stuff', Except for...**SPOILER**
20 January 2012
'Catch a Fire' is a well acted film about South Africa. Set during the turbulent 1980s the film is rather macabre. That term applies to both its content and context.
The dominant theme is Apartheid. Specifically, the film focuses on the black peoples' struggle against the ruling segregationist white regime. That usually is the case with most of these films.
As I expected, the story unfolds in a township. Straight away, the plot is told mainly from the oppressed native peoples' perspective. In this instance, that perspective belongs to the ANC or African National Congress. Famous former prisoner, Nelson Mandela, was one of the group's founding members.
When we do hear from the supposed oppressor or Boers' point of view, it comes in fleeting glimpses or as banal catch phrases. And usually all we see or hear from the 'whites' is always in the negative.
The South African Boer or European colonizer can't catch a break anywhere in the film. That's because Hollywood and much of the world treat the colonizer farmers with contempt. And during these tumultuous modern times that contempt approaches or exceeds the degree once reserved for the 20th century's archetypal ruthless killer villains or Nazis.
The film's hero, Patrick Chamusso, is based on the same real life ANC freedom fighter. Derek Luke, an American actor gives a good impression of the man.
Chamusso's main antagonist is Nik Vos. He's a Boer and the head of the state's anti-terrorist branch. His character is portrayed by another American, Tim Robbins. Robbins gives a convincing if not chilling performance. His accent is nothing less than all southern hemisphere Boer.
Now I'll get back to Chamusso...
The film makes a case that he started out as an innocent peace loving family man. Patrick, who also is employed as a foreman at the state's oil refinery, Secunda, lived a model life even for a black man. Ostensibly the film suggests that Patrick was as far removed from politics and the ANC's armed struggle as Pepsi is from being a drink option on McDonald's drive through menu.
Chamusso's presumed innocence and neutrality soon change. A recent terrorist attack on the oil facility saw to that. Always diligent, Inspector Vos sniffs Chamusso's scent at the scene. Not satisfied with Patrick's alibi that he coached football that day, the zealot (terrorizing) Boer soon arrests him. To persuade Patrick to confess to the crime, Vos even resorts to torture.
And that gruesome treatment is not exclusive for Chamusso. Soon after, he arrests Patrick's wife. When the couple meet later in detention, she reveals her broken jaw, courtesy of Vos' interrogation methods.
Fast forward...
That is the last straw. Now Chamusso's former peace loving resolve is replaced by his rancor. In mere minutes he hikes to Mocambique. On his arrival in Maputo, the capital, Patrick joins his few happy but totally banned freedom fighting ANC brothers and sisters.
Minutes later we see Patrick dancing smartly to the beat of 'Kill the Boer'. He even finds solace in the steely form of either an AK-47 rifle, a bazooka or in Russian made Limpet mines.
At the terrorist training camp he meets Joe Slovo. The banned and exiled (still) leader of the South African Communist party then befriends Chamusso. Big Joe even gives him a nickname. Patrick is now 'Hot Stuff'!
Start to finish, Aussie director Noyce's overarching message is to romanticize the terrorist ANC. He desires so much to legitimize the ANC's armed struggle as just. Probably with much of their audience, the Hollywood freedom loving liberal producers/directors succeeded. However that tact did not gain my sympathy. The total bias of the film's backers was clear to me. In my opinion, they are guilty of overreaching in their rush to judgment against the Boers in general.
For starters, they neglected to mention that 'Father' Mandela as the real life Patrick Chamusso affectionately refers to him never renounced terror against the South African state or its peoples. In fact violence was the ANC's preferred method to enact political change in South Africa. And it still is, even now.
To be fair, prisoner Nelson Mandela iterated that while incarcerated he could not guarantee the ANC at large would renounce violence against the state and its citizens. Fair enough...
Had the film's brain trust provided even a snippet of context such as mentioning the Boer regime's well founded fear the ANC was equally a Marxist Leninist political party as it was an African Native Army, well, I could have easily upped the star count.
As it was, three is as liberal as I get.
The dominant theme is Apartheid. Specifically, the film focuses on the black peoples' struggle against the ruling segregationist white regime. That usually is the case with most of these films.
As I expected, the story unfolds in a township. Straight away, the plot is told mainly from the oppressed native peoples' perspective. In this instance, that perspective belongs to the ANC or African National Congress. Famous former prisoner, Nelson Mandela, was one of the group's founding members.
When we do hear from the supposed oppressor or Boers' point of view, it comes in fleeting glimpses or as banal catch phrases. And usually all we see or hear from the 'whites' is always in the negative.
The South African Boer or European colonizer can't catch a break anywhere in the film. That's because Hollywood and much of the world treat the colonizer farmers with contempt. And during these tumultuous modern times that contempt approaches or exceeds the degree once reserved for the 20th century's archetypal ruthless killer villains or Nazis.
The film's hero, Patrick Chamusso, is based on the same real life ANC freedom fighter. Derek Luke, an American actor gives a good impression of the man.
Chamusso's main antagonist is Nik Vos. He's a Boer and the head of the state's anti-terrorist branch. His character is portrayed by another American, Tim Robbins. Robbins gives a convincing if not chilling performance. His accent is nothing less than all southern hemisphere Boer.
Now I'll get back to Chamusso...
The film makes a case that he started out as an innocent peace loving family man. Patrick, who also is employed as a foreman at the state's oil refinery, Secunda, lived a model life even for a black man. Ostensibly the film suggests that Patrick was as far removed from politics and the ANC's armed struggle as Pepsi is from being a drink option on McDonald's drive through menu.
Chamusso's presumed innocence and neutrality soon change. A recent terrorist attack on the oil facility saw to that. Always diligent, Inspector Vos sniffs Chamusso's scent at the scene. Not satisfied with Patrick's alibi that he coached football that day, the zealot (terrorizing) Boer soon arrests him. To persuade Patrick to confess to the crime, Vos even resorts to torture.
And that gruesome treatment is not exclusive for Chamusso. Soon after, he arrests Patrick's wife. When the couple meet later in detention, she reveals her broken jaw, courtesy of Vos' interrogation methods.
Fast forward...
That is the last straw. Now Chamusso's former peace loving resolve is replaced by his rancor. In mere minutes he hikes to Mocambique. On his arrival in Maputo, the capital, Patrick joins his few happy but totally banned freedom fighting ANC brothers and sisters.
Minutes later we see Patrick dancing smartly to the beat of 'Kill the Boer'. He even finds solace in the steely form of either an AK-47 rifle, a bazooka or in Russian made Limpet mines.
At the terrorist training camp he meets Joe Slovo. The banned and exiled (still) leader of the South African Communist party then befriends Chamusso. Big Joe even gives him a nickname. Patrick is now 'Hot Stuff'!
Start to finish, Aussie director Noyce's overarching message is to romanticize the terrorist ANC. He desires so much to legitimize the ANC's armed struggle as just. Probably with much of their audience, the Hollywood freedom loving liberal producers/directors succeeded. However that tact did not gain my sympathy. The total bias of the film's backers was clear to me. In my opinion, they are guilty of overreaching in their rush to judgment against the Boers in general.
For starters, they neglected to mention that 'Father' Mandela as the real life Patrick Chamusso affectionately refers to him never renounced terror against the South African state or its peoples. In fact violence was the ANC's preferred method to enact political change in South Africa. And it still is, even now.
To be fair, prisoner Nelson Mandela iterated that while incarcerated he could not guarantee the ANC at large would renounce violence against the state and its citizens. Fair enough...
Had the film's brain trust provided even a snippet of context such as mentioning the Boer regime's well founded fear the ANC was equally a Marxist Leninist political party as it was an African Native Army, well, I could have easily upped the star count.
As it was, three is as liberal as I get.
The Power of One
(1992)
'The Power of One' Is Indeed the Power of Many **Some Spoilers**
30 November 2011
First, I'll state the obvious: Avildsen's film adaptation of Bryce Courtenay's novel of the same name is complementary. However, it does lack in some key areas. Specifically, the film version has been altered far too much for my liking. In the end, those changes proved to be detrimental.
For sure, the director shouldn't have departed from the novel's superb plot. Perhaps, he did this to gain a wider audience's appeal. And he did do just that judging from the many positive reviews given. Many of those reviews were even written by a much younger generation too. I've noted that reviewers are disparate: critics and fans alike chimed in from all over the globe. That's good, I suppose.
Still, the movie is found wanting. Avildsen has corrupted much of the novel's political/social context. For example, Avildsen depicts the Boer (Dutch farmer) or Afrikanner in the thorniest of light, without exception. Most times, the Boer personage is seen and heard almost exclusively as a carbon copy of the European Nazi. To him, the character's role is inconsequential even if it's a bit part. They're all the same. And they all bark along with the ability to spew even venom.
The Afrikanner's strong affinity (supposed) for Hitler's movement is correlated to their equal zeal for the German's quest for racial purity. No doubt that same zeal is rooted in the Boer's religious fanaticism. Avildsen, even takes sore pains to make this same point though rather pointedly on young Jappie Botha's @ss! Ouch!
The film from the beginning and throughout makes us fully aware of the Boers' national character flaws. What Avildsen neglects to inform us is, 'apartheid' began long before the National Party took office in 1948. Even the English South African or 'Rooinek' had a helping if not equal hand in setting up the strict racial divide in South Africa.
The real truth is this: wealthy and powerful elitists amongst the 'rooinek' ranks were altogether instrumental in crafting first and lasting segregationist precedents. Although they did so unwittingly (Of course they did!). Witness the olde 'Union of South Africa'. Even way back then the British gladly evicted from a train (some say forcibly) the ultra pacifist and soon to be world renowned social reformer, Mahatma Gandhi.
Gandhi though, didn't even bother to turn the other cheek. Wisely, he packed his meager belongings and then fled the country while both halves were still intact; what cheek!
Avildsen does not do the novel real cinematic 'justice'. To wit, he made far too many factual errors either by omission or commission. This film could have been a real cinematic masterpiece. All he need do was stick to the novel's noble plot: despite much personal tragedy and daunting odds the human spirit yet triumphs. That much is true, if one recognizes the power of one/oneness.
Still, there are some bright spots, even flashes of brilliance. Morgan Freeman's portrayal of the incorrigible Geel Piet is electrifying. The veteran actor rightly deserved at least three Oscars. His stirring performance was altogether unforgettable.
The others were cast perfectly. Steven Dorff, as the mature Peekay delivers a pretty good 'eight punch combination'. His portrayal of the main protagonist was credible. Soon, I could identify with his (PeeKay's) struggles, disappointments and belated successes.
The most pleasant surprise came from an unlikely source. Probably for many viewers, it also came from the the least liked character: chief antagonist, Jappie Botha (Sgt.). Daniel Craig not only supplied the muscle but he also handled the difficult Boer accent with ease.
Craig's expressions and working the scene props were performed with so much naturalness. I still see him today as he appeared then: the hate filled, unrepentant and revenge minded S.A.P. blind state loyalist.
Fittingly then, and almost by fate, Craig Bond's first 30 minutes of cinema fame came with distinction. Maybe that's not really the case; the truth is, Jappie was real bad. Craig, showed us his every ugly side too.
The film had many memorable moments. One occurred during a police raid of Alexandra, a black township. At last Sgt. Botha has caught the elusive Peekay, injured and alone. A crazed Botha addresses his captive.
"Oh, I'll take you (Peekay) in... I'll take you in, when you're dead."
In summary, if not for Avilden's much spin and radical departure from the original script, I could have easily awarded 10 spangled stars, possibly five more.
Alas...
For sure, the director shouldn't have departed from the novel's superb plot. Perhaps, he did this to gain a wider audience's appeal. And he did do just that judging from the many positive reviews given. Many of those reviews were even written by a much younger generation too. I've noted that reviewers are disparate: critics and fans alike chimed in from all over the globe. That's good, I suppose.
Still, the movie is found wanting. Avildsen has corrupted much of the novel's political/social context. For example, Avildsen depicts the Boer (Dutch farmer) or Afrikanner in the thorniest of light, without exception. Most times, the Boer personage is seen and heard almost exclusively as a carbon copy of the European Nazi. To him, the character's role is inconsequential even if it's a bit part. They're all the same. And they all bark along with the ability to spew even venom.
The Afrikanner's strong affinity (supposed) for Hitler's movement is correlated to their equal zeal for the German's quest for racial purity. No doubt that same zeal is rooted in the Boer's religious fanaticism. Avildsen, even takes sore pains to make this same point though rather pointedly on young Jappie Botha's @ss! Ouch!
The film from the beginning and throughout makes us fully aware of the Boers' national character flaws. What Avildsen neglects to inform us is, 'apartheid' began long before the National Party took office in 1948. Even the English South African or 'Rooinek' had a helping if not equal hand in setting up the strict racial divide in South Africa.
The real truth is this: wealthy and powerful elitists amongst the 'rooinek' ranks were altogether instrumental in crafting first and lasting segregationist precedents. Although they did so unwittingly (Of course they did!). Witness the olde 'Union of South Africa'. Even way back then the British gladly evicted from a train (some say forcibly) the ultra pacifist and soon to be world renowned social reformer, Mahatma Gandhi.
Gandhi though, didn't even bother to turn the other cheek. Wisely, he packed his meager belongings and then fled the country while both halves were still intact; what cheek!
Avildsen does not do the novel real cinematic 'justice'. To wit, he made far too many factual errors either by omission or commission. This film could have been a real cinematic masterpiece. All he need do was stick to the novel's noble plot: despite much personal tragedy and daunting odds the human spirit yet triumphs. That much is true, if one recognizes the power of one/oneness.
Still, there are some bright spots, even flashes of brilliance. Morgan Freeman's portrayal of the incorrigible Geel Piet is electrifying. The veteran actor rightly deserved at least three Oscars. His stirring performance was altogether unforgettable.
The others were cast perfectly. Steven Dorff, as the mature Peekay delivers a pretty good 'eight punch combination'. His portrayal of the main protagonist was credible. Soon, I could identify with his (PeeKay's) struggles, disappointments and belated successes.
The most pleasant surprise came from an unlikely source. Probably for many viewers, it also came from the the least liked character: chief antagonist, Jappie Botha (Sgt.). Daniel Craig not only supplied the muscle but he also handled the difficult Boer accent with ease.
Craig's expressions and working the scene props were performed with so much naturalness. I still see him today as he appeared then: the hate filled, unrepentant and revenge minded S.A.P. blind state loyalist.
Fittingly then, and almost by fate, Craig Bond's first 30 minutes of cinema fame came with distinction. Maybe that's not really the case; the truth is, Jappie was real bad. Craig, showed us his every ugly side too.
The film had many memorable moments. One occurred during a police raid of Alexandra, a black township. At last Sgt. Botha has caught the elusive Peekay, injured and alone. A crazed Botha addresses his captive.
"Oh, I'll take you (Peekay) in... I'll take you in, when you're dead."
In summary, if not for Avilden's much spin and radical departure from the original script, I could have easily awarded 10 spangled stars, possibly five more.
Alas...
The Sicilian
(1987)
Salvatore Giuliano, Folk Hero or Mobster?
7 November 2011
For entertainment value, Cimino's 'The Sicilian' does not deliver in the Hollywood sense. That's good in my opinion.
It viewed some where between documentary and romantic fairy tale. Maybe to many, the latter choice would be more appropriate. I'd place Sicilian, Salvatore Giuliano or Lambert's portrayal smack in the middle. That's because even after doing much research I'm still not sure who the real character was. Probably, no one really knows for sure.
The plot moves along fine except for the opening flashback from Turturro's cell. Cimino should have axed the scene first cut. The inclusion of the American governess did not help the story line either. In fact, she, the actress gave an unconvincing and unflattering portrayal of Americans (the rich ones) living abroad. At times she swore like a trooper. Most of the film she sounded and looked like a hooker in communist garb, designer that is. I was so glad when she fell off the reel.
The rest of supporting cast was complementary. Giuliano's accomplices were good enough and just bad enough to add intrigue. Even the crotchety old professor was a good fit as interlocutor between Giuliano, his loyal band of unhappy bandits, the fickle mob and the stripe changing church.
The film's one weakness is the behind the scene's love affair between the Mafia Don and Giuliano. I found it confusing. Do competing mobsters profess such unrequited love? Perhaps they do in Sicily.
If you're looking for something in the genre of the non-stop murderous mobster films, then give this one a miss. However, if you are fascinated with Sicily and their mysterious culture, 'The Sicilian' will give you some good glimpses of the stunning mountain terrain, cosmopolitan Palermo and its people both big and small, good and bad.
It viewed some where between documentary and romantic fairy tale. Maybe to many, the latter choice would be more appropriate. I'd place Sicilian, Salvatore Giuliano or Lambert's portrayal smack in the middle. That's because even after doing much research I'm still not sure who the real character was. Probably, no one really knows for sure.
The plot moves along fine except for the opening flashback from Turturro's cell. Cimino should have axed the scene first cut. The inclusion of the American governess did not help the story line either. In fact, she, the actress gave an unconvincing and unflattering portrayal of Americans (the rich ones) living abroad. At times she swore like a trooper. Most of the film she sounded and looked like a hooker in communist garb, designer that is. I was so glad when she fell off the reel.
The rest of supporting cast was complementary. Giuliano's accomplices were good enough and just bad enough to add intrigue. Even the crotchety old professor was a good fit as interlocutor between Giuliano, his loyal band of unhappy bandits, the fickle mob and the stripe changing church.
The film's one weakness is the behind the scene's love affair between the Mafia Don and Giuliano. I found it confusing. Do competing mobsters profess such unrequited love? Perhaps they do in Sicily.
If you're looking for something in the genre of the non-stop murderous mobster films, then give this one a miss. However, if you are fascinated with Sicily and their mysterious culture, 'The Sicilian' will give you some good glimpses of the stunning mountain terrain, cosmopolitan Palermo and its people both big and small, good and bad.
Che: Part One
(2008)
Ernesto 'CHE' Guevara Was Poorly Portrayed On Film Even As Argentine
4 August 2011
Be warned: I broach him, the historical CHE figure with mucho respect. I can't say the same for the characterization for the same man in this film though the actor, Benicio del Torro gave a gutsy and possibly a memorable performance.
Right from the get-go, director Steven Soderbergh set me at odds with his brand of directing. Then there's the even weightier matter of his much revisionist views of the period's history: Coups BAD but Revolucion by Armed Struggle is VERY GOOD. Of course, they the Revolucionarios had the blessing of the people every which way they killed. And why such foreplay with the (RED) map of Kuba? Was that even necessary? One might assume that theatergoers would at the very least have a rudimentary knowledge of the Cubanos' struggles from the 50s. For sure, I don't believe many folk under the age of 50 viewed this film. So spare us the leftist pictographs history lesson.
Since my youth, I've always been interested in knowing more about this appropriately bearded, somewhat charismatic Argentine medical doctor who quickly became Fidel Castro's right, er, left hand man in the struggles before and after that led to the overthrow of the corrupt Batista regime in Kuba. Thereafter I saw the gruesome photos from Life magazine which revealed the murdered corpse of the now infamous named CHE after Columbian troops (I suspect CIA fed)tracked then cut down like a wild animal in those dense jungles where normally men such as Ernesto and other peoples'liberation fighters get their start, I needed to know the truth.
Really, I wanted to believe that the film was based on the true writings of the humble but famous Ernesto man himself. Well, that youthful naivete and my perennial optimism went fleeting, fast. To wit, the moment I heard that banal-tone mesmerizing, though totally grating voice of the female U.S. State Department spokesperson and interviewer, I knew the leftist jig was at work (excuse the pun).
Right there I knew that this was indeed CNN 'deja vu' all over again though in retrofit fashion and much redux.
I gave up on learning more. Still I viewed with much suspicion maybe skepticism for two whole hours until PART One concluded. What a relief!
NO, not even for a New York minute did I consider loading PART Two in the beckoning DVD orifice. I'm not a masochist, nor am I nuts. For sure I am not all enamored nor influenced by the Left's love-fest with this famous man, Ernesto Che Guevara. However I will give him this: Despite his ideology I believe he showed much compassion for the poor at anytime even in the heat of battle. For that quality alone, I believe his soul found redemption and his battle against injustice, finally won.
So, the ideological debate no doubt continues and my earnest search to learn the 'real truth' behind or before the making of Ernesto CHE Guevara marches further afield into the future. Still, I know this: This film certainly shed little if any light on that subject. Oh yes, I almost forgot. The director and the imaginary, cellophane CHE depicted in PART One did remind us often of his and Ernesto's, but not so much Fidel's motivation to commit to armed struggle: U.S. hegemony, better enunciated as Yankee Imperialism was running amok in the lesser known 'Little Americas'. If allowed to go unchecked, why soon the entire world would behave like a domino factory, then fall and fail, subsequently beholden to American capitalism. Moreover, each country touched by U.S. expansionists soon becomes a slave colony working tirelessly to run up a deficit which totally suits the American masters. Fidel said so himself (in private).
OK. I got it. Some of that may be true. However, I found it odd that the film's message failed and was too remiss to mention even once that the other side of the Post WWII cold fission/fusion process, the Russians,were doing much the same thing, although in covert and on the flip side of the globe. Surprise...!
To be fair, CHE and I believe his big boss Castro did mumble the dirty word 'Stalinist' once though they did so en passant.
Sigh, to hear their muted act of contrition was not worth two hours of my time. It is apropros then that none of them get cinematic nor even mine absolution.
One Star it is and no more.
Sorry...
Right from the get-go, director Steven Soderbergh set me at odds with his brand of directing. Then there's the even weightier matter of his much revisionist views of the period's history: Coups BAD but Revolucion by Armed Struggle is VERY GOOD. Of course, they the Revolucionarios had the blessing of the people every which way they killed. And why such foreplay with the (RED) map of Kuba? Was that even necessary? One might assume that theatergoers would at the very least have a rudimentary knowledge of the Cubanos' struggles from the 50s. For sure, I don't believe many folk under the age of 50 viewed this film. So spare us the leftist pictographs history lesson.
Since my youth, I've always been interested in knowing more about this appropriately bearded, somewhat charismatic Argentine medical doctor who quickly became Fidel Castro's right, er, left hand man in the struggles before and after that led to the overthrow of the corrupt Batista regime in Kuba. Thereafter I saw the gruesome photos from Life magazine which revealed the murdered corpse of the now infamous named CHE after Columbian troops (I suspect CIA fed)tracked then cut down like a wild animal in those dense jungles where normally men such as Ernesto and other peoples'liberation fighters get their start, I needed to know the truth.
Really, I wanted to believe that the film was based on the true writings of the humble but famous Ernesto man himself. Well, that youthful naivete and my perennial optimism went fleeting, fast. To wit, the moment I heard that banal-tone mesmerizing, though totally grating voice of the female U.S. State Department spokesperson and interviewer, I knew the leftist jig was at work (excuse the pun).
Right there I knew that this was indeed CNN 'deja vu' all over again though in retrofit fashion and much redux.
I gave up on learning more. Still I viewed with much suspicion maybe skepticism for two whole hours until PART One concluded. What a relief!
NO, not even for a New York minute did I consider loading PART Two in the beckoning DVD orifice. I'm not a masochist, nor am I nuts. For sure I am not all enamored nor influenced by the Left's love-fest with this famous man, Ernesto Che Guevara. However I will give him this: Despite his ideology I believe he showed much compassion for the poor at anytime even in the heat of battle. For that quality alone, I believe his soul found redemption and his battle against injustice, finally won.
So, the ideological debate no doubt continues and my earnest search to learn the 'real truth' behind or before the making of Ernesto CHE Guevara marches further afield into the future. Still, I know this: This film certainly shed little if any light on that subject. Oh yes, I almost forgot. The director and the imaginary, cellophane CHE depicted in PART One did remind us often of his and Ernesto's, but not so much Fidel's motivation to commit to armed struggle: U.S. hegemony, better enunciated as Yankee Imperialism was running amok in the lesser known 'Little Americas'. If allowed to go unchecked, why soon the entire world would behave like a domino factory, then fall and fail, subsequently beholden to American capitalism. Moreover, each country touched by U.S. expansionists soon becomes a slave colony working tirelessly to run up a deficit which totally suits the American masters. Fidel said so himself (in private).
OK. I got it. Some of that may be true. However, I found it odd that the film's message failed and was too remiss to mention even once that the other side of the Post WWII cold fission/fusion process, the Russians,were doing much the same thing, although in covert and on the flip side of the globe. Surprise...!
To be fair, CHE and I believe his big boss Castro did mumble the dirty word 'Stalinist' once though they did so en passant.
Sigh, to hear their muted act of contrition was not worth two hours of my time. It is apropros then that none of them get cinematic nor even mine absolution.
One Star it is and no more.
Sorry...
O Jerusalem
(2006)
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem let my right hand forget...
30 May 2011
That, oh so poignant verse from Psalm 137 altogether sums my impressions of the film. By all means, I am kind with my assessment. This should have been a great film, provided, the Hollywood script writers followed the book's theme. Alas, they did not; what else is new under the sun!
Despite its potential, the film did not explore or enunciate enough two of its main themes: the futility of war and more important, man's continued penchant to inflict inhumanity on fellow man. Oh yes, Bobby Golden Boy Goldman, one of the film's major players does indeed state either or both of those strong tenets even boldly. However, he does so en passant. Moreover, his excellent points are nonetheless made moot as the director cuts to the chase and the next bloodied then quickly sanitized atrocious conflict scene time and again. And there were so many of these telegraphed, goofy scenes. So many in fact,that soon I lost count.
Not long after, quite frankly I lost any or all lingering interest to stick it out until the curtain fell. Thank God for that tender mercy. This low budget, grade 'B' production could not end soon enough.
Before I exit, I must say that the film's depiction of the British protector-ship of the former Palestine was well, pathetic. Yes, we got it; the Thin Red Line had already gone bald and lost all of its former glory by that point. However, to paint them redder, er, yellow and to make them appear more inept even treacherous to the Hebrew cause, is well taking many creative, film making liberties.
Sure, the Brits neglected their peace keeping role while there. Even General Barker voiced his 'haaarrumph' stilted opinion and attested to that very fact while protesting to the then backpedaling, fleeing British High Commissioner. Still, he did so in a not so poignant manner nor propitious moment. No matter. The film had already gone so far south that it was difficult for me to discern which way lay O Jerusalem let alone the true path to peace.
I believe, the director and producer, though in an odd way tried to make their best case (whatever that was, we will never know). To wit, they could have done better with the film's plot if they had invested more time in exploring that noble road map to peace theme. No doubt, that lofty goal was well within their grasp and cinematic scope. However, all too predictably they instead chose to either neglect it, cut it first pass, or simply cast it aside altogether, just the same.
Like the British, Hollywood just could not help themselves nor the script. At every turn the actors fumbled the football, or bungled the entire dialog until finally, together, the flimsy cast and entire film crew botched what should have been an otherwise beautiful, possibly even most edifying film.
Forget about it!
Sigh...
Despite its potential, the film did not explore or enunciate enough two of its main themes: the futility of war and more important, man's continued penchant to inflict inhumanity on fellow man. Oh yes, Bobby Golden Boy Goldman, one of the film's major players does indeed state either or both of those strong tenets even boldly. However, he does so en passant. Moreover, his excellent points are nonetheless made moot as the director cuts to the chase and the next bloodied then quickly sanitized atrocious conflict scene time and again. And there were so many of these telegraphed, goofy scenes. So many in fact,that soon I lost count.
Not long after, quite frankly I lost any or all lingering interest to stick it out until the curtain fell. Thank God for that tender mercy. This low budget, grade 'B' production could not end soon enough.
Before I exit, I must say that the film's depiction of the British protector-ship of the former Palestine was well, pathetic. Yes, we got it; the Thin Red Line had already gone bald and lost all of its former glory by that point. However, to paint them redder, er, yellow and to make them appear more inept even treacherous to the Hebrew cause, is well taking many creative, film making liberties.
Sure, the Brits neglected their peace keeping role while there. Even General Barker voiced his 'haaarrumph' stilted opinion and attested to that very fact while protesting to the then backpedaling, fleeing British High Commissioner. Still, he did so in a not so poignant manner nor propitious moment. No matter. The film had already gone so far south that it was difficult for me to discern which way lay O Jerusalem let alone the true path to peace.
I believe, the director and producer, though in an odd way tried to make their best case (whatever that was, we will never know). To wit, they could have done better with the film's plot if they had invested more time in exploring that noble road map to peace theme. No doubt, that lofty goal was well within their grasp and cinematic scope. However, all too predictably they instead chose to either neglect it, cut it first pass, or simply cast it aside altogether, just the same.
Like the British, Hollywood just could not help themselves nor the script. At every turn the actors fumbled the football, or bungled the entire dialog until finally, together, the flimsy cast and entire film crew botched what should have been an otherwise beautiful, possibly even most edifying film.
Forget about it!
Sigh...
Blood Diamond
(2006)
Blood Diamond Should be Retitled to: Calvin Klein Runs Amok in Africa.
14 December 2010
With much anticipation, I first viewed what I thought would be a poignant film with an interesting 'subject matter' (hence the film's title) about a week ago.
Boy, I mean, Maan, did those Hollywood liberals get it wrong; to be honest, that much was to be expected.
For starters, everyone is miscast: Leo DiCaprio as the tough guy ex- Rhodie? Pluuuuhesse! Enter Jennifer Connelly straight from the CNN News castoffs list as Maddy (Who thought of that yuppie, fake name?). She, parades around the beach bar at Freetown, with one breast a-dangling and bumps and groans aloud with the other fake name Danny Archer boy. They hit-it-off with designer beers, phony fags and much clichéd trash talk, actually fluff sounds. Oh yeah... 'Danny boy' comes replete with a wretched South African accent; which sounds less than wooden. He hardly qualifies as a respectable 'crunchie' let alone bushveld hardened ex-Rhodie fighter.
They are all pathetic, even Djimon Hounsou. Okay, he did pump a little iron between scenes. But even that didn't help him kick Danny boy's tight ass character. What a wimp (both of them).
This B-Rated film even stole heavily from the ancient Greeks. The real baddie (African rebel RUF RUFF captain ) is transformed into a silver eyed Cyclops, who then gets his comeuppance from a diamond encrusted shovel, though on the back of his plaster padded skull.
Let me explore the plot/theme. Wait a New York minute... There wasn't one. Ahh, yes. Now I remember. It was, get this: TIA (This is Africa). Translation: Ho Ho Ho, Green Giant, Slippery, Slick, Treeky Transnational Corporation.
The aforementioned message is approved by Sotheby's, De Beers, The South Hollandia Pretty Green Bottle Beers export subsidiary and The Blue and White Tobacco Company.
Well, by now you guessed my opinion: This supposed social commentary film amounted to not much more than pure poppycock. And I am kind.
Who in their right mind would even assign more than one star for this flesh-for-fantasy flic? Well, some ninnies, even gave ten of their crooked thumbs. Or something equally ludicrous.
However, my film review is not complete without mention of at least one redemptive quality. The outright winner: AK47 (Chinese version) OR the RPG launch sequence.
Oh, Danny boy, you have been found 'wanting' but not much more.
Go figure!
Boy, I mean, Maan, did those Hollywood liberals get it wrong; to be honest, that much was to be expected.
For starters, everyone is miscast: Leo DiCaprio as the tough guy ex- Rhodie? Pluuuuhesse! Enter Jennifer Connelly straight from the CNN News castoffs list as Maddy (Who thought of that yuppie, fake name?). She, parades around the beach bar at Freetown, with one breast a-dangling and bumps and groans aloud with the other fake name Danny Archer boy. They hit-it-off with designer beers, phony fags and much clichéd trash talk, actually fluff sounds. Oh yeah... 'Danny boy' comes replete with a wretched South African accent; which sounds less than wooden. He hardly qualifies as a respectable 'crunchie' let alone bushveld hardened ex-Rhodie fighter.
They are all pathetic, even Djimon Hounsou. Okay, he did pump a little iron between scenes. But even that didn't help him kick Danny boy's tight ass character. What a wimp (both of them).
This B-Rated film even stole heavily from the ancient Greeks. The real baddie (African rebel RUF RUFF captain ) is transformed into a silver eyed Cyclops, who then gets his comeuppance from a diamond encrusted shovel, though on the back of his plaster padded skull.
Let me explore the plot/theme. Wait a New York minute... There wasn't one. Ahh, yes. Now I remember. It was, get this: TIA (This is Africa). Translation: Ho Ho Ho, Green Giant, Slippery, Slick, Treeky Transnational Corporation.
The aforementioned message is approved by Sotheby's, De Beers, The South Hollandia Pretty Green Bottle Beers export subsidiary and The Blue and White Tobacco Company.
Well, by now you guessed my opinion: This supposed social commentary film amounted to not much more than pure poppycock. And I am kind.
Who in their right mind would even assign more than one star for this flesh-for-fantasy flic? Well, some ninnies, even gave ten of their crooked thumbs. Or something equally ludicrous.
However, my film review is not complete without mention of at least one redemptive quality. The outright winner: AK47 (Chinese version) OR the RPG launch sequence.
Oh, Danny boy, you have been found 'wanting' but not much more.
Go figure!
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