rch427 Reviews

Miracle Apples (2013)

Unbelievably irritating and corny tear-jerker

[3/10 · 9 February 2016]

If you've read the title to this film, you already know everything you need to about it. It has apples. It may have a miracle. The miracle may involve the apples. From that, you'll probably be able to extrapolate that -- like 99% of the other Japanese G-rated dramas, it will be the story of a hapless dreamer with a heart of gold who must overcome every adversity to be able to prove his worth to those around him and to save at least one family member from an illness. There will be tears. There will be innocent children Who Must Be Helped. There will be a beautiful and virtuous woman who will stand by her man. There will be townfolk who don't understand. This sort of film was made by the hundreds in Hollywood in the 1930s through '50s, which makes "Miracle Apples" all the odder, given it being made in 2013.

Yes, I realize that it's (loosely) based upon a true story. But does it have to recycle every hackneyed plot device typical to such movies? Does it have to telegraph every turn of the plot? The protagonist is so earnestly, steadfastly stupid that I found myself enjoying his failure after failure, indignity after indignity. This is partly because star Sadao Abe can be effective in eccentric roles, such as "Ichi the Unicorn" in "Shimotsuma Monogatari" (AKA "Kamikaze Girls"), but he is simply not a believable dramatic actor. His modes are binary; either shouting and nearly wetting himself with enthusiasm or morose and self-flagellating; either way, he's always turned up to eleven.

I give the film three stars for the following: a few good supporting cast members -- particularly Tsutomu Yamazaki as the father-in-law, some fantastic scenery of rural Japan, and a good overall message about organic farming -- but not about a man subjecting his family to a decade of needless poverty, given that organic farming practices were already in use in Europe and America from which he could've learned much, had he bothered to research that.

People Will Talk (1951)

Good grief, but this was dire!

[3/10 · 21 February 2015]

"People Will Talk" hearkens back to those classic Hollywood...oh, who the hell am I kidding: it's utter rubbish. Every second of watching it, you're slapped upside the head with the fact that it's a wooden script written by people who lacked enough wit to write for Preston Sturges or Howard Hawks, but are contractually-obligated to crank it out. Every line is a declamation with the most unnatural dialogue imaginable. This is the first time I've actually hated one of Cary Grant's characters in a film; he's absolutely insufferable, delivering one pompous pronouncement after another, through his nose. Hume Cronyn turns in a two-dimensional performance. The romance is utterly perfunctory, despite the lovely Jeanne Crain. Really, I can think of very little to recommend "People Will Talk" and I regret having wasted nearly two hours of my life on it.

YERT: Your Environmental Road Trip (2011)

Good potential ruined by one bad decision

[3/10 · 13 July 2014]

YERT had the potential to be a very engaging personal journey for the three characters and the audience. Although some of the restrictions they self-imposed were arbitrary or even nonsensical, it showed that they were really trying to question the things that most of us do every day without thinking. I was enthusiastic about their journey until . . . they casually announced that Julie was pregnant. And it wasn't something they had intended, but more like "Whoops! We thought that couldn't happen!" Newsflash: women are likely to get pregnant when engaging in sexual intercourse, if they are not using birth control.

It's not the fact that she got pregnant that's the issue, but that the road trip was intended to highlight the things one can do to lessen one's impact on the environment. And what is the single most environmentally destructive decision a person can make? To have a baby. Seriously.

A study done in 2009 at Oregon State University shows that the environmental impact of *not* having a child in America is about 20 times greater than the impact of doing a whole host of environmentally-friendly things like recycling, driving a hybrid, using CFLs for lighting, etc., over the course of your entire lifetime. In other words, despite everything else that Julie and Ben may ever do that's pro-environment, by having a child, they've more than counteracted them all just by bringing another little American into existence. Is this ever even mentioned? Nope. It's as if these three environmentalists were totally oblivious to the impact of reproducing.

No, I'm not suggesting that humans should let themselves die off. But I *am* suggesting that anyone who truly wants to lessen their impact on the environment should think very seriously about the effects of their becoming a parent upon the environment. The fact that Ben and Julie were just casually treating it like a whim or something they lucked into, is galling. They had the opportunity to set an example and they blew it, big time.

Campus Rhythm (1943)

Goofy nonsense

[3/10 · 13 July 2014]

I caught "Campus Rhythm" on Netflix, on a whim. I'd like my 63 minutes back, please. First, the plot is as old and tired as vaudeville; "trite" doesn't begin to cover it. Second, the actors all appear to be in their 30s or older, despite them supposedly being college students. The men are, almost invariably, creepy leches, and the audience is somehow supposed to find them charming. Everything is shot on sound stages or back-lots, which sucks any energy or life out of the film. Finally, the music, which is leaned-on heavily, is just dismal with some of the most cringe-worthy lyrics I've ever heard. There were a variety of composers involved but none of them were worthy of polishing Cole Porter's shoes. All that's left of the film is some okay visuals and a bad aftertaste.

Expedition Week: Ben Franklin's Pirate Fleet (2011) Season Unknown, Episode Unknown

Exceptionally weak for National Geographic

[3/10 · 7 July 2014]

Documentaries used to be about scientific exploration and documentation. But increasingly, they're trading in schlock TV techniques like jump-cuts, digital effects, thumping rock music and hyping up even the most trivial elements of the story in attempts to create some tension. These are some of the things that bring "Ben Franklin's Pirate Fleet" down. Repeatedly, the narrator breathlessly says things like "...but time is running out!" and "This may be the last chance the crew will have to find anything at the wreck site!" NEVER do they explain *why* time is supposedly in short supply! Is the ocean being closed for repairs at the end of the week? Does the crew have to return to their real jobs? My sense is that it there weren't any real time constraints, but the filmmakers wanted to add some tension to get the audience's pulses racing. But *why*? We want to learn about history, not get manipulated by dramatizations of what *might* have happened.

It's also clear that the divers are anything but trained archaeologists; they use an air chisel ("...like a jackhammer", claims the narrator, but actually, just like a pneumatic hand-drill) to chop artifact out of the seabed. There's no evidence that they were documenting the locations or contexts of artifacts; certainly not with grid boxes, photo surveys and the other things one expect of marine archaeological digs. It's all about "dive in and grab stuff!" But what exactly is it they found? Clearly, they've found a few pieces of 18th/19th century boats, but that in no way proves that those boats happened to have been privateers, much less privateers working for the Revolutionary cause, at the behest of Franklin. Much is made of the "fact" that the crew doesn't find any markings on the metal pieces they found -- as if every metal piece on a British boat or ship was stamped with "Made in Britain"! Again and again, viewers are reminded of how far away this show is from being scientific. And instead of showing us something definitive at the end, it peters out with nothing resolved or even learned. What a far cry from National Geographic's former standards!

The Fantastic Deer-Man (2008)

Intriguing premise let down by bad pacing, illogic and annoying characters

[4/10 · 23 January 2014]

I was prepared to really enjoy "Shikaotoko Aoniyoshi", given that it's set in Nara (one of my favorite places) and features deer, animals that I feel very close to. The series' premise is interesting enough -- that an ancient ritual to subdue an immense primordial catfish-shaped god underneath the islands of Japan must be performed regularly, and is the responsibility of sacred deer, foxes and rats. Not your run-of-the-mill premise, to be sure! The guardian animals select humans to act as their facilitators, but the deer could not have made a worse choice: a hapless, bumbling goof of a high school teacher, recently arrived in Nara ("Ogawa-sensei", played by former model Hiroshi Tamaki).

Here's the series' first main failing: the character of Ogawa-sensei is repeatedly described as "unlucky", but -- either due to the dialogue, or Tamaki's acting, or the direction (or all three) -- it's more that he's irritatingly stupid. It's one thing to be "unlucky"; it's another thing entirely to be thoughtless and clueless towards the lovely Haruka Ayase, his only real ally, and to go around mooning like a lovesick 14 year-old over "Madonna" (Yuki Shibamoto). Ogawa is a caricature of a slack-jawed, goggle-eyed buffoon who is visibly started by everything around him.

And Ogawa has the world's worst judgment; the plot hinges all too often on him doing the exact *worst* thing. A priceless artifact must be held onto in order to save Japan from imminent destruction? No problem! -he'll just tuck it into his desk drawer, or hold it carelessly in his hand. What? -what could possibly go wrong? At times when I wasn't saying "Oh, come ON!" at the screen, I was shaking my head in disbelief. Shows and movies insult their viewers when they have the protagonist be such an utter fool. We want to identify with him, to cheer him on, to feel empathy for him. Given the poor depiction of Ogawa-sensei, I found myself rooting *against* him after about the 5th episode. At least the show has a few interesting characters: the enigmatic art teacher Fukuhara-sensei (Kuranosuke Sasaki), the brooding kendo champion Hotta-chan (Mikako Tabe) and the luminous "Madonna".

The other main problem is that the pacing is sluggish and it feels like they're trying to stretch the story to fit the required number of episodes. I got bored more often than I could count. Still, I'm glad I watched the series -- mostly for the characters other than Ogawa-sensei, the premise and the locations around Nara.

Full Metal Jacket (1987)

Immensely overrated

[3/10 · 30 November 2013]

"FMJ"'s reputation, combined with Kubrick's name, elevate the film far above its actual merits. Here are my specific criticisms:

1. The plot is simplistic and formulaic. #1: Basic training. #2: Suddenly in Vietnam and lulled into a false sense of security. #3: A heavy firefight for the denouement. And. That's. It. It feels as if Kubrick started with three sheets of paper, labeled the top of each with those three phases, and kept them hermetically separated. There's no sense of flow, of growth, of anything organic. So when separated buddies from basic training are reunited later in the film, their "hail fellow, well met!" shtick feels hollow and forced.

2. Partly because of #1, many of the plot devices are utterly predictable. Private Pyle telegraphs his breakdown to us at least 10 minutes before it occurs. The hubris and languor of the cast, safe in their city quarters in Vietnam, take every opportunity to tell us how nothing bad could happen, because -- after all -- it's Tet, a national holiday. C'mon, Kubrick -- it's 20 years after the Tet Offensive. You can't expect us to NOT know what's coming, when you set it up like that. That day of doom, in which tens of thousands of Viet Cong and NVA troops launched surprise attacks that killed thousands of US soldiers, is rendered utterly devoid of suspense. Prefiguring sucks the air out of a film.

3. Many of the scenes are as clumsy as anything one could ever see from a college Filmmaking 101 class. Case in point: After "Touchdown" and "Handjob's" bodies are brought back and the squad stands in a circle around them, the camera pans from one squad member's face to another for about 5 seconds each, while each says something utterly canned sounding: "You're going home now." "Semper Fi." "We're mean marines, sir." "Go easy, bros." "Better you than me." "Well, at least they died for a good cause." Who provided this dialogue (or more accurately, serial monologue) -- Joe's All-Purpose Elegies?

4. Most of the settings look contrived and "cinematic" rather than natural. In particular, the city scene in Vietnam with the prostitute and the scene where "Joker" and "Rafterman" are hurrying along a road, trying to find the location of the mass grave -- both are stuffed to the gills with "period stuff going on", but one definitely gets the sense that it's all part of an effort to give the effect, rather than being authentic. Other scenes, such as the firefight at the end, look like they were staged for live theater, with strategically-placed fires (what the hell was burning for hours in those concrete buildings?!), atmospheric smoke, fill lighting, etc.

5. Many of the side characters are nothing more than caricatures. A prime example is "doorgunner", who is straight from central casting as "Gun-crazed Child-killer". What? Not convinced by watching him shoot fleeing peasants with his machine gun? Well, then he'll *tell* you that he's a gun-crazed child-killer as well. Just so there's no doubt. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

6. Some of the plot turns and the way they're acted are laugh-out-loud ridiculous. For example, when "Touchdown" is hit by a mortar round, "Doc Jay" immediately starts giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and CPR. It's extremely unlikely that concussion from the mortar simply stopped Touchdown's heart, so neither treatment would do much good (and why doesn't Touchdown's chest move even a fraction of an inch when Doc Jay is pushing on it?) Another example is when "Rafterman" finally shoots the sniper with about a dozen rounds and she lies bleeding on the floor with the squad gathered around her. Not only is she still alive, she's saying something. What, you ask? She's _praying_, in Vietnamese. And not just praying, but mouthing the words and enunciating as clearly as possible, as if she has an audience to perform for. Finally, after the slowest death scene in history, she switches to English, saying "Shoot me!" about fifty times. And all the while, we're forced to put up with seeing "Joker's" tortured expression as he has to wrestle with what to do. Ain't war just HECK?!

7. The heavy-handed use of period songs isn't effective, it's annoying. Playing "Surfing Bird" at top volume doesn't add anything to the viewer's experience. Nor does "Wooly Bully" or "These Boots Were Made for Walking". This kind of gimmick is best left to middlebrow action flicks, not serious war films.

8. Finally, a note to filmmakers: the use of voice-over from a character is very seldom effective and almost never necessary. When in doubt, leave it out.

No American born before 1960 is ignorant of the fact that the war in Vietnam was a huge mistake, a tragicomedy of errors and a national disgrace, and that there were acts of bravery, naiveté and inhumanity in approximately equal amounts. We've all heard of Mai-Lai. We've all seen (the vastly better) "Apocalypse Now", made 8 years before FMJ, as well as "The Deer Hunter" and "Platoon", both of which also predated FMJ. And every American born too late to have witnessed the War firsthand, knows almost as much, since America has publicly excoriated itself for the past 4 decades over its involvement. The result is that FMJ breaks no new trails in terms of information or emotional content. We've been down those well-traveled roads already.

In general, FMJ feels graceless, inauthentic, clumsy, ham-fisted and about as uncreative of a film as can be imagined. It's difficult to believe that it came from the same director as "2001: A Space Odyssey" or "Dr. Strangelove". How much of this is specifically Kubrick's fault is open to debate but as the film's auteur, the ultimate blame can only be his.

Austenland (2013)

Embarrassingly bad, even to my low expectations

[3/10 · 29 July 2013]

I was roped into a screening of "Austenland" by my well-meaning, Jane Austen-admiring wife. Ninety-seven minutes later, we left the theater shaking our heads. Not because we were offended by the idea of someone making a satirical movie about a modern young woman who was so obsessed with Jane Austen's milieu that she wanted to live in it, but because that ship sailed five years ago, in the form of "Lost in Austen" -- a movie that was everything this film was not.

Had I known in advance that "Austenland" was directed and co-written by the half-wit half-responsible for "Napoleon Dynamite", I might've stayed home. If ever comparing two structurally similar films threw into high relief the shortcomings of one of them, "Lost in Austen" does it to "Austenland". The latter comes across as a script written in two weeks by a rather stupid college sophomore as a class project. No line was too trite, no joke too juvenile, no humor too obvious to not get the full scenery-chewing treatment here.

Even within the film's internal logic, the protagonist made utterly no sense. Here's a young woman who is supposedly so obsessed with Austen, her writing and her virtues that she spends her life savings on an immersive week in that very environment, yet she caves-in within 24 hours, describes being indoors as "stifling", and is soon making out with a stablehand! The contempt she displays for Austen's mores is one more reason the viewer loses any sympathy for her. And honestly, she's not that special. Take away her obsession with Austen (and the film effectively does that within the first 20 minutes), and she's just another vapid college student who dresses like a slob.

Much has been written elsewhere about Jennifer Cooledge, the *other* American who supposedly paid for a week in "Austenland". I thoroughly enjoyed her as a minor character in "A Mighty Wind" and "Best in Show", but in those, she greatly benefited from the writing talents of Christopher Guest and Eugene Levy. Christopher Guest has had boils that could write more clever dialogue than Jerusha Hess is capable of. While I wanted to like Cooledge in this, there was simply no way to get beyond the fact that her character is the broadest broad who ever trod the boards.

One gimmick I've come to loathe in recent films was introduced by Sophia Coppola in "Marie-Antoinette" -- that of interspersing modern pop songs at length throughout the film. "Marie-Antoinette" somewhat worked since Coppola used the juxtaposition of modern songs to make the audience reappraise that late-18th century queen as a modern woman in modern material culture. "Austenland", on the other hand, just uses pop songs to tell the audience what it should be feeling at that moment. Every time this movie is screened, someone in the audience is going to whisper to their significant other "Hey! Remember when we used to make out to that Cure song?" -and move a little closer.

There are exactly three things I could find to like about "Austenland", for which I gave it one star each. The first is for the setting; West Wycombe is always lovely. The second is for Bret McKenzie, the roguish stablehand with a smooth, if improbable line for every occasion (he was far better, tho', in "Flight of the Conchords"). And the third is for J.J. Feild, whose earnest and understated performance is a welcome relief from all of the other in-your-face, turned-up-to-eleven performances. But ultimately, these three aren't nearly enough to save "Austenland" from being a mediocre and tiresome attempt at a romantic comedy. Jane Austen would've shuddered at the thought of such a film exploiting her name and work.

Sakura na hito tachi (2009)

Utterly worthless, self-indulgent twaddle

[2/10 · 3 July 2013]

I don't know what Jo Odagiri was thinking when he...er...created this steaming pile of celluloid crap. Did he earn too much money from his acting jobs and need to take a loss for tax purposes? Is he mixing his drugs wrong? Did he lose a bet? Whatever the cause, the result is that we are given a film that feels like it was "written" under the influence of psylocybin mushrooms, a large bowl of baked beans, and an ipecac. And as far as his "directorial style" goes: please refer to the preceding sentence.

I do have to thank OdaJo for prompting me to write the shortest movie review I have ever written: "Stink, stank, stunk".

The Crossing (2000 TV Movie)

Jeff Daniels utterly fails as Washington

[5/10 · 10 January 2013]

I'm giving "The Crossing" five stars on the merits of it telling an important story, and the solid performances turned in by Roger Rees, Sebastian Roche and a few others. But the film is seriously compromised by three things.

First, it's an absolutely bog-standard Hollywood treatment of a historical event, pulling together every trope in the industry (and underscoring how you're supposed to feel with insistent mood music at every turn).

Second, although the Hessian troops were certainly worthy of concern, a far worse enemy was the weather. From all accounts, the weather that night was horrific -- practically a blizzard -- with snow, sleet, high winds and huge chunks of ice floating down the swiftly-moving Delaware River to contend with. In fact, the snow was falling so heavily and the winds were so strong that the Hessians at Trenton actually canceled guard duty for the night because they would be unable to see or hear anything more than a few feet in front of them! (And in reality, they weren't drunk or hung-over; they were exhausted from not sleeping because they did indeed expect the Continental Army to attack; deserters had tipped them off that Washington was planning to attack, but no one knew when.) Does the film reflect this godawful weather? Nope, it has characters saying that they're cold, there's some rain, and (in one scene) there's a dusting of snow on the grass. That's it. The river is placid, winds are calm, there's no snow or ice floes. Absurd! Could the studio really not afford to give us some fake snow or styrofoam "ice floes"?!

But the worst thing about "The Crossing" is Jeff Daniels' depiction of Washington. To begin with, the script portrays Washington unlike reality. For example, when General Rall asks to surrender his sword directly to Washington, Washington refuses to accept it and wants to send a subordinate in his place. His aide tells him that he must go and accept it, as that's part of the honor code of officers. Newsflash to the filmmakers: George Washington was an officer in the British Army long before he was a revolutionary; he certainly would've known the proper protocol for surrendering. Indeed, there is no historical basis for this part of the film; it seems to have been invented out of whole cloth.

Even worse is Daniels' evocation of Washington's character, which runs contrary to every contemporary account from his friends, which show him as a man impossible to anger -- circumspect, taciturn and reserved; a man who preferred to talk as little as he could get away with, and when he did, he used neutral and carefully-chosen words. Daniels mischaracterizes Washintgon's temperament and manner of speech, and he also brings none of the necessary gravitas to the role. Washington may have been a man of few words, but he also cut a very imposing figure in his bearing. Daniels' Washington appears as a rather small man with a bad temperament, and no amount Daniels' grimacing or attempts to chew the scenery can make up for it. On those grounds, "The Crossing" is, unfortunately, a failure.

The Pleasure of His Company (1961)

Enjoyable, other than the utterly loathsome Fred Astaire

[3/10 · 4 January 2013]

Things to like about this film: San Francisco locations, Edith Head's costuming, the music.

Things that are much harder to like: Fred Astaire's character, Debbie Reynolds, and the plot.

Reynolds, at age 30, is absurd as an ingenue/debutante.

In the '20s, a studio executive wrote about the young Astaire -- "Can't sing. Can't act. Slightly balding. Can dance a little." Although you'd never know it from the stature he has in Hollywood history, that executive nailed it. Astaire *can't* sing, can barely act, and he's no Cary Grant in the looks department.

There is nothing to like about Fred Astaire in "The Pleasure of His Company", playing a roguish, absentee father who comes back from spending his life entertaining himself abroad and promptly attempts to ruin everyone else's relationships. But for the script that subverts all logic, there could be no explanation for the way he's lionized in this film as a charming man of the world. To me, he could not have been more boorish and pretentious. Take that assessment for whatever its worth.

Midsomer Murders: Orchis Fatalis (2005) Season 8, Episode 3

Remarkably stupid in so many ways

[3/10 · 15 October 2012]

For those who never question what's presented to them, "Orchis Fatalis" may not raise an eyebrow. To anyone else, it's chock-a-block with stupidity. Here is just a partial list:

When discovering the "totally unique" specimen of orchid, what do the two orchid experts do? Snip the flowering spike off, then pull up the rhizome. News to everyone else: this would almost certainly kill the plant.

When Barnaby and Jones enter the greenhouse where orchids are grown, Jones begins sneezing as if he's allergic to orchids. News to everyone else: orchids don't produce pollen that causes allergic reactions.

When the killer forces hemlock down the throat of one of the victims, she's dead within a few seconds. News to everyone else: hemlock takes a minimum of 30 minutes to prove fatal.

This episode is full of ridiculous nonsense such as this that left this modestly educated viewer rolling his eyes. It's a shame, because Barnaby is likable and "Midsomer" can be lovely, but the plots are so contrived, the characters so unbelievable and the dialogue so nonsensical, I'm about ready to give up on the series.

The Awful Truth (1937)

rather flat, utterly predictable and tediously long

[5/10 · 21 September 2012]

There are screwball romantic comedies with lots of chemistry, snappy dialogue and tight pacing. Preston Sturgess usually had something to do with them, such as with "Sullivan's Travels" and "Dinner at Eight" and anything with William Powell and Myrna Loy exemplified the genre.

"The Awful Truth" ain't one of those films. The casting is serviceable, although Cary Grant (who has done this exact role 6,000 times before) isn't at his most sparkling here. The real faults are the script, which is long on clichés and short on actual wit, and the pacing which is uncomfortably long and with long passages of little or nothing going on. The story telegraphs every plot turn miles in advance, leaving the viewer with nothing but waiting for the inevitable to take place. I wanted to like it but I spent most of the film just waiting for it to end.

Doc Martin (2004–2022)

not a bad guy, surrounded by a cast of insufferable fools

[4/10 · 26 August 2012]

Martin Clunes isn't a bad fellow and even in a thankless role like this, he's hard to entirely dislike. But surround him with a cast of insufferable fools -- most of whom are direct from Central Casting -- and the show quickly goes downhill.

"Doc Martin" somehow manages to inherit the world's most obnoxious and incompetent receptionist and the world's most inept plumber. His reaction? He puts up with them. Sorry, but this is utterly absurd. It's ridiculous to expect us to believe that man as abrasive and unfriendly as "Doc Martin" supposedly is (even just on the surface) would simply endure such destructive and useless people. Is there no one else within 30 miles who could do a better job? Because clearly, there's no one else within 30 miles who could do a *worse* job.

At every turn, there's a plot device straight from the 1930s, no matter how improbable. For example, when Martin is run off the road, does he even bother slowing down? Nope, he drives at the same speed until he runs into a pond. Sorry, but anyone with an IQ over room temperature would at least take his foot off the gas, if not move it to the brake pedal. Believable? Not even slightly, but it's a necessary device to advance the entirely hackneyed plot. It's a bog-standard sit-com. Beyond Mr. Clunes and the locations, there's really nothing to save "Doc Martin".

Future by Design (2006)

A sweet paean to a hopelessly impractical future

[6/10 · 13 August 2012]

It's impossible not to like Jacque Fresco or to not be charmed by his enthusiasm. There's no doubt that he's a gifted stylist, immensely hardworking and sincere, and that he has synthesized most of the "futuristic" notions of the 20th century. You can see the influences of Bucky Fuller's geodesic structures, the streamlined vehicles of Norman Bel Geddes, Oscar Niemeier's curvilinear architecture. He's assembled a world-view that's appealing and might well be an improvement over what we have now. For that, he's something of a treasure.

Having said all of that in his favor, even his newest creations are dated and, almost without exception, simply replace existing problems with other problems he does not seem to see. Countless examples present themselves in this documentary.

For example, he posits "cities of the future" which are saddled with the problems that have always plagued utopian city planning, from Le Corbusier's "Ville Radieuse" to Niemeier's Brasilia. First, the resources, energy, tools, etc., required to create these cities is vastly greater than creating an organically-grown city. This is a mistake that Fresco repeats again and again. He posits huge "prefabricated buildings, assembled by robots". Instead of actually being a step forward, all this does is to shift the labor and energy from where it is now (construction crews building on-site) to construction crews building prefab modules elsewhere, and then requiring the energy to move them to the site, AND to create (and provide materials and energy for) the robots to assemble them. There is no net savings; indeed, there's a net LOSS in efficiency, all for the sake of "futuristic" prefab buildings and robot assemblers. Every "automated system" he suggests comes at a huge cost in materials, energy, manpower, etc.

Second, people simply don't like living in symmetrical cities; they're soul-crushing. Every city ever been built upon a symmetrical plan has been a failure. Most have become housing projects, slums or demolished just decades-on. And it's far more difficult to demolish and ethically dispose of "futuristic" buildings than ones made of say, brick and wood. (Monsanto's fiberglass "House of the Future" defied nearly all attempts at demolition and even after being chopped up, became toxic landfill.) It's unlikely that anyone a century from now will bemoan the loss of the "grid city", but people will always feel attracted to chaotic jumbles like Bruges, Carcassonne or Carmel-by-the-Sea. Humans are organic and they just naturally relate to organically-evolved settings.

Third, the inflexibility of planned cities is antithetical to growth and change; two things that every city needs. Fresco says that the central hub of the city will house all of the shopping facilities. With that limitation of space, a finite number of businesses can be accommodated. Which ones will be allowed there? How can they grow as they succeed? Cities aren't closed systems; they need to be flexible.

Two huge failings of Mr. Fresco's vision are those of energy demands and of materials. He speaks of aircraft that will operate by electrostatic power (something he explains by the wrong-headed analogy of squeezing a peach pit between your fingers to shoot the pit across the room. Sorry but the air cannot produce pressure against two opposite sides of an aircraft to squeeze it along). The fact is that, barring many magnitude-orders of technological advancement, "electrostatically-powered aircraft" are about as sensible as nuclear-powered autogyros. He touts a variation of the trusty "futuristic monorail", not acknowledging that monorail beamways are FAR more expensive and difficult to build and repair than traditional railway lines, and are extremely inflexible for growth or change.

Likewise, he never mentions what "futuristic" material his ambitious building projects will use. To make a large building shaped like a potato chip requires a material that can be formed in complex curves. What to use? Fiber-reinforced resin? The Futuro houses of the '60s used that; they're a nightmare of maintenance and repair (or disposal). Ditto concrete sprayed over forms. And integrating doors and windows into complex-curved structures is problematic (ask anyone who has built a geodesic dome). Metal alloys are hugely expensive. The amount of aluminum required to build a million new homes would increase the unit cost many times, and there's not enough aluminum ore on the planet to build 100 million such homes.

His "car of the future", with its "self-repairing body", covered with photovoltaic skin and equipped with radar and computer to prevent collisions, is a nightmare of complexity, materials and energy cost, and repair and disposal challenges. All of that technology just so drivers can pay less attention to driving? One could learn something from proponents of "appropriate technology" who might instead suggest building bicycles enveloped in bamboo and fabric streamlining. Of course, they're not "futuristic" looking, but in their favor, they can be built at home by most reasonably handy people out of cheap materials that can easily be repaired and recycled.

It's not enough to come up with an appealing form that looks sleek and desirable; a designer must also understand materials and their limitations. Does Mr. Fresco? If so, he never touches on it; he just trots out one epically ambitious structure or vehicle after another, as if the shape will overcome the challenges of materials, construction, economy, repair or disposal.

One thing I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Fresco about is an hour into the film where he very cogently explains why humans create superstitions, and how they hold us back. Bravo to him for that, and for challenging our species to do better than we have thus far. But all of the ambition in the world, unless coupled with a good understanding of what it takes to make dreams reality, is little more than window-dressing. Mr. Fresco dresses a window beautifully, but brings us no closer to the future. Still, the film is highly recommended for retro-futurists and dreamers. And in an ideal world, he would have every resource needed to build those dreams.

Secret Mysteries of America's Beginnings Volume 2: Riddles in Stone - The Secret Architecture of Washington D.C. (2007 Video)

utter rubbish & conspiracy mongering

[3/10 · 13 July 2012]

"Riddles in Stone" purports to expose the truth behind Masonic influences upon the design of Washington DC, and its supposed "purpose". Well, it's largely crap. How do I know? First, I'm a Freemason. And not just some "porch Mason"; I'm 32nd Degree in the Scottish Rite, a member of a Traditional Observance Lodge, and deeply involved in Masonic philosophy and esoteric thought. I'm _also_ a skeptic, especially when it comes to claims made about Masonry and world history. It's that background that informs my opinion about this "documentary".

First, I'm wary of any narrator who constantly says things like "...it's said that..." and "...some think that..." Those are worthless qualifiers that can be used to excuse the most ridiculous nonsense. I could just as "accurately" say that "it's been said that the moon is made of cheese", and be absolutely correct since it HAS been claimed (a century or more ago). Does that lend credence to the actual claim that the moon IS made of cheese? Hardly!

Next, the film spends far too much time trotting out the presence of the number 13 in US history and iconography (such as the Great Seal), as if it is some mysterious -- not to mention ominous -- presence. They only passingly mention that "some say that this is because there were 13 States". Well, no kidding! It was hugely important that there were 13 Colonies, and the use of 13 ranks in the pyramid on the Great Seal and 13 stars in the flag and elsewhere, celebrate that fact. Can you feature some conspiracy theory-monger today going on about the sinister presence of the number 50 in the US today (50 being the number of the pentagram multiplied by the number of toes on George Washington)?! Instead of simply admitting that the union of the 13 Colonies into 13 States was hugely significant to early Americans, the show goes out of its way to try to tie it to some arcane numerological significance. Pathetic.

Also, the show goes to great lengths to try to claim the existence of a pentagram in the streets of Washington DC. They show a variety of maps and overlays, but all of them are manipulated to make it look far more like a pentagram. The fact is that it's NOT a pentagram. It's a collection of 30 and 60-degree angles, as one finds in cities from NY to San Francisco. Pentagrams are ONLY made up of 36 and 72-degree angles. So the "pentagram" they claim exists in DC is actually a squashed, 4-legged one. Now, if Masons had a blank slate to work with when laying out DC, don't you think we would've used 36 and 72-degree angle streets rather than 30 and 60? There's so much else to find fault with about this show, but I have no interest in going into more detail. The final and most significant fault is that they interview a host of certifiable loonies and outright liars like "Dr." Ed Decker, who claims to know that the 30th Degree ritual in the Scottish Rite involves drinking blood out of a human skull! How does Decker "know" this? Because he claims that his father was a Freemason.

The show also relies heavily upon the claims of William Schnoebelen, another outright fraud who claims to know all about Freemasonry, but has never been a Mason, despite his claims. (He also claims to have been a Satanist, a Wiccan, a Gnostic bishop, a Mormon, an Old Roman Catholic priest, a 90th Degree Mason in the Ancient and Primitive Rite of Memphis Misraim Freemasonry, and a vampire! --and all of this by the age of 37, when he got "saved". Somehow, he finds time to be a prominent critic of Freemasonry, and to "know" all of its secrets. Amazing.

The ONLY saving features of this show are some good shots of architectural features and artworks in DC, and interviews with reasonable people like Brent Morris and Trevor McKeown who come across as as sensible and sober as Schnoebelen and Decker are hysterical and comically misinformed. "Riddles in Stone" is just entertainment where truth takes 3rd place behind sensationalism and conspiracy-mongering.

A Dance to the Music of Time (1997– )

Disappointing and often annoying

[3/10 · 16 June 2012]

I should preface my remarks by saying that I've not read the source material (Anthony Powell's twelve semi-autobiographical novels) so I can't comment on that aspect of the story. My frustration with the protagonist Nick Jenkins passivity no doubt reflects Powell's original creation. I thought that James Purefoy did a credible job portraying Jenkins and it was a relief to see him take a break from the usual scenery chewing, sneering and smirking he so often exhibits in his period film performances. To the contrary -- he's understated and passive to the point of bewilderment which, I presume, was Powell's intention.

Much of the rest of the cast is excellent (and any frequent viewer of British period films will recognize many fine character actors), although the characters themselves are often inexplicably unappealing. Throughout it all, Jenkins stays collegial, if not congenial, with every one of them, no matter how despicable they might be. That struck me as unbelievable, but again -- I suspect that Powell was using Jenkins as a personification of the British trait of "getting on with people". Fair enough.

What, then, is my objection to "A Dance to the Music of Time"? They are three, two of which have to do with the structure of the story. First, the adaptation feels forced and is hugely uneven. You always know things are going badly in a film when characters employ declamation to introduce themselves. "Why hello, young Winston Churchill! You may not remember me, but I'm the Prince of Wales." (I just made that up for effect, but it reflects the tin-eared dialogue often employed in the miniseries when it needs to Tell Us Something.) Yes, it's madness to try to abridge 12 novels down to seven hours on film, but that decision largely doomed the miniseries' credibility.

Second, the further along the film goes, the less focus it has. It wanders off into one utterly pointless subplot after another, trying to express the passage of time and zeitgeists along the way. No sale. It feels forced and perfunctory.

Finally, due to the timeframe of the film (1920s through '60s), characters must age. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, James Purefoy is one of the very few who is replaced with a different (and older) actor, and one who looks nothing like him. This requires more awkward exposition ("Hello, Bill. You may not remember me, but I'm Nicholas Jenkins, even though I look nothing like the Nick Jenkins you knew in Episode Three.") Why was this done? Widmerpool and most of the other actors progressively age (to varying degrees of believability), but just swapping out the protagonist for a different actor torpedoes the film's credibility all the more. Inexplicably, Miranda Richardson not only portrays the same character throughout, she does not age one year. Absurd.

Ultimately, this film left me scratching and shaking my head. Perhaps the books bring something more to the story, but the film felt like a contrived string of events both banal and pseudo-historic, with a hollow man at the center. We never care about any of the characters, nor do we see anything of substance inside of the protagonist. He's a cypher, an "everyman" and ultimately a bore to follow for seven hours.

The Odyssey (1997)

Great Zeus: what utterly dismal crap!

[2/10 · 1 June 2012]

This is an Odyssey for people who were weaned on network TV and are incapable of reading. Director Konchalovskiy is, apparently, one such person, given the way he utterly eschews any subtlety or nuance, overloading every scene with sweeping, syrupy music that insists you _feel_ very deeply what he insists you feel, as well as over-the-top special effects and scenery-chewing from nearly every actor.

Armand Assante is, of course, incapable of anything but scenery-chewing, as are most of his fellow cast members. It's as if Konchalovskiy said "OK, now everybody turn it up to eleven!" Homer's epic story is rendered "super-ultra-mega-epic!" for TV. Every plot turn, every character, has to be introduced with declamation or voice-over. Bereft of anything but Hollywood blather, this is a pathetic waste of money and effort.

Save your time and read the original story.

Going Postal (2010)

Embarrassingly bad

[2/10 · 17 March 2012]

"Going Postal" is a cringeworthy adaptation of Terry Pratchett's work for TV where every subtlety is lost, characters are utterly 2-dimensional, and music steamrolls you at every turn. Pratchett seems to have taken every cliché'd character imaginable (including the animated kitchen sink) and thrown them into a Steampunk "Christmas Carol". Vampires? Check. Werewolves? Check. Golems? Check. (And the Golem in question here is almost a direct rip-off of "Kryten" from "Red Dwarf".) But for all that "Going Postal" has that is unwelcome, it's conspicuously lacking two elements: a character that you can give a damn about, and a "McGuffin" that makes you care about what happens to them. "Going Postal" is a superficially clever premise that is utterly let down by a paper-thin script and made insufferable by treacly music and unnecessary voice-over. Give this one a WIDE miss.

The Ruling Class (1972)

A quirky fantasy becomes a turgid polemic over 2.5 hours

[3/10 · 3 October 2011]

What a sorry mess! "The Ruling Class" begins as full of promise and with wit and an irreverent willingness to defy convention and slowly (glacially!) mutates over its 2-1/2 hour running time into a directionless screed against Britain's aristocracy.

Never willing to let the audience grasp their intentions on their own, again and again Peter Medak uses hamfisted characterizations and plot devices to convey author Peter Barnes' view that the titled in Britain are superficial, hypocritical, incestuous, calloused, categorically corrupt and evil, congenitally insane, the personification of Satan, and Jack the Ripper himself! And the members of the House of Lords? Why they're a bunch of stuffy old corpses. No, really! NO, REALLY! Every time you say to yourself "Yeah, I get it", the Two Peters reply "Oh, no you don't; not by a long shot!" and then proceed to tell you the same thing over and over and over and over and over again.

Peter O'Toole is pretty good (although led down by comically bad make-up and wigs), but O'Toole is much better elsewhere. Unless you're an O'Toole completist, save yourself 2-1/2 hours of having tabloid-level editorializing rubbed in your face.

The Secret of Moonacre (2008)

Answer me this question:

[20 August 2011]

One question: Are you under 13? If so, you may enjoy "Moonacre".

Are you over 13? If so, you will likely find "Moonacre" to be a steaming pile of crap, worthy of being avoided at all cost.

If the filmmakers could've made "Moonacre" any more trite, clichéd and formulaic, then by god, they wou'd've done so. Every conceivable fantasy film trope is trotted out and juiced within an inch of its pulp. Imperiled princess? Evil uncle? Hapless guardian? Arranged marriage? Checks all around. White unicorn? Black lion? Check and double-check. Neither advance the plot, but are just there as signifiers of "magical nobility", of course. Add to this a cast of patently 2-dimensional characters, portentious voice-over exposition, cringe-worthy dialogue and some of the cheesiest CGI effects this side of a freshman college course in CGI, and you have this entire sorry mess figured out within the first 5 minutes. There's really nothing to recommend "Moonacre" and SO much to recommend against it.

Tous les matins du monde (1991)

That's Irritainment!

[14 July 2011]

Monsieur de Sainte Columbe is a cinematic staple: an Official Tortured Musical Genius, straight from central casting. His two virtues are that he's a master of the viol and its music, and that he's deeply distraught about his young, beautiful wife's untimely death. Those are the ONLY virtues he possesses. He's also the biggest ass in France; mistreating his young daughters, killing their pet beetle, telling the representatives of the King to go stuff himself for daring to praise him and invite him to play at court, deliberately smashing his pupil's priceless viol, and so on. His pupil's crime? "You're playing, but it's not *music*!" Sainte Columbe cries. And we're supposed to sympathize with him?!

Making the l o n g viol-playing scenes more difficult to watch than they might be, Jean-Pierre Marielle, who portrays Sainte Columbe, is unfortunately utterly unconvincing as a viol player. His finger positions and movements on the fretboard in no way match the notes being played, nor does his bowing even roughly match the rhythm. Instead, he just gives us his patented Tortured Genius Face. And Guillaume Depardieu, as his young pupil is likewise unconvincing; acting more like a self-conscious teen heartthrob (tossing his long hair and flaring his nostrils) than acting with anything like subtlety. He also delivers one of the most groan-producing voice-over lines in cinematic history: "My thick prick hung between my legs". Yeah. Really. He did. I think at that point, the camera threw up in its mouth.

"Tout les Matins du Monde" is little more than a rehash of "Amadeus" (made 6 years earlier), right down to the contrite voice-over by the hack who stole the glory of the *real* musical genius, the uneasy relationship between court musician and king, the contrived romance and so on. Although "Amadeus" had its faults, its pacing and sparkling wit helped hide them. "Tout les Matins..." has no such savior. It plods along with one forced and implausible emotional scene after another. It does have some handsome locations and lovely baroque music, but in the end, it's simply not enough to save it from being irritating, predictable and ultimately, unengaging.

Upstairs Downstairs (2010–2012)

A hateful bastardization of the original

[3/10 · 22 April 2011]

There once was a BBC series called "Upstairs, Downstairs". It was an understated (if occasionally tear-jerking) class study about the way that the upper classes depended upon their servants and the way their servants found dignity in their employment.

This miniseries has just three things in common with it: the title, Jean Marsh, and the house's address. EVERYTHING else is wrong, and a travesty of the sort of thoughtful, nuanced plots and characterizations in the original. If anything, this show clearly delineates just how far the BBC has slipped in its inexorable slide into smarmy sensationalism and politically-correct pandering to approved identity politics, and middlebrow tastes and mores. Doubt me? Take a look:

1. They try to sexy things up with a female family member having a barely-concealed affair with a male servant. That would've been unthinkable in the original series, and unthinkable in reality in the 1930s. Any head-of-house even suspecting such a dalliance would've sacked the servant and, in all likelihood, have him thrown in jail (or worse). I suppose I should be surprised they didn't make the servant black, for good measure. Yes, yes -- men in such households dallied with servant girls but, double-standard tho' it was, the other way 'round was unthinkable.

2. They have to yank on the heartstrings (and assuage the guilt of the British public who were largely indifferent to the plight of the Jews) by having a Jewish refugee arrive as a new maid -- who (naturally) had once been an upper-class lady, and turns out to be one of the most noble characters (cue the violins). And, since simply making her out to be a victim in five respects wasn't enough (a persecuted Jewess, a foreigner, a virtual widow, a mother separated from her child, and being reduced to servitude), they then have to kill her off with...asthma. I'm surprised they didn't give her a wooden leg and a speech impediment as well.

3. The other most "noble" character is, of course, non-white -- the virtuous Hindu. We are expected to feel outrage and pity because he is somewhat excluded from the family's intimacy. Never mind the fact that he (1) came from a lower-class family and (2) is now living in comfort and security at the largess of the Holland family, in exchange for having to type up Lady Holland's memoirs. Oh, the indignity! -the outrage! (cue fist shaking at the sky)

4. The casting of the original was pretty much flawless. The casting here is seriously uneven -- the biggest clanger being "Hallum Holland" (what WERE they smoking when they came up with that gem of alliteration?!) who simply does not look remotely like a British aristocrat. A Chippendale's dancer, a gay beefcake model, an Italian gigolo, yes. A British aristocrat, no. This was a key role, and no amount of eyebrow-furrowing or eye-flashing can make up for the fact that he's utterly miscast.

5. Ham-fisted irony: the humble houseboy, whose mother gives him a picture for his wall that admonishes "Blessed are the Meek", is named "Johnny Proude". Oh, the IRONY! DO YOU GET IT?! HUMBLE! MEEK! And yet: PROUDE! Where do we get these ideas, you ask? From Sainsbury's, in a handy 4-pack!

6. Behold: the world's most annoying, in-your-face maid, "Ivy Morris". She sings! She dances! She's a lovable little scamp, always up for a spunky remark, a shag with another servant, or a heartfelt sob. Imagine an 18 year-old Little Orphan Annie after too much cocaine and you'll have her character pegged. Strewth.

7. And direct from Central Casting: the Eccentric, Controlling Mother! She has a pet monkey, fer chrissakes! She's ridden elephants! Is that crazy or what?!!1! Clearly, this is an "Upstairs, Downstairs" for an audience who was weaned on 1990s sitcoms and dramedies, who read tabloids and hates anyone that they believe is more privileged then they are. An audience who thinks in black and white, who is incapable of connecting dots or grasping subtleties, who accepts every stereotype of victimhood and is quick to condemn any tradition as the province of the enemy.

Really, it's remarkable that Britain today is actually a first-world nation, prosperous and low in crime, when you consider that this show depicts it as having been built and run by people who are shallow, vapid, helpless, prejudiced and/or downright evil. And probably child-molesting Satan-worshipers too. Yes, Britain must've been built by gnomes, aided by noble non-Caucasians, noble non-Protestants and noble (insert whatever other minority happens to be fashionable at the moment). Handicapped lesbian Chinese dwarfs, mostly.

What this show *really* should've been called is "Upstairs, Downstairs 2: Revenge of the Servants". Because after all, rooting for the underdog is more than just a sporting notion: it's now MANDATORY.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008)

just PAINFUL

[2/10 · 27 January 2011]

In 1939, when the book "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day" was written, such films were cranked out by the gross. At the very best, they were directed by Howard Hawks, and they flowed along with easy wit and little time for the audience to question any plot weaknesses. At the worst, they were trite potboilers. Alas, this film apes the latter. It trots out every single "screwball romantic comedy" trope from "Dinner at Eight" to "Pillow Talk" without bringing a single new thing to the mix. So much for the plot.

Amy Adams plays the equivalent of "Lorelei Lee" (and pastiches Carole Lombard and every other screwball blonde in cinematic history) turned up to eleven. She's madcap! She's ditzy! She just can't say no! Frances McDormand is a capable actress, but she attempts to conceal her faux British accent behind chewing her words, as if she's afraid to be heard clearly. So much for the two leads.

With questionable acting, 2-dimensional characters and the flimsiest of all possible plots, the only thing that can save the film would be very deft direction. Alas, even that it lacks. It's always an indication of the weakness of a film when the director throws in "mood-setting music" in every scene. Such is the case here. Need the audience to get excited? Blare the rinky-dink jazz! Need them to try to care about this romance or that? Cue the sobbing strings! Heavy-handed? That doesn't even begin to describe it.

There is only one group of people who could find this film appealing: women with a taste for "retro" styling whose cinematic standards have consistently been lowered to the basement floor. Anyone who appreciates sparkling, original romantic comedies will simply find it woefully lacking in every regard.

Diabolically Yours (1967)

Maddening and utterly unbelievable

[4/10 · 21 January 2011]

"Diabolically Yours" uses the same tired old trope that dozens of other films from the 1930s onward have employed: a man wakes up in a hospital, not sure who he is, but suspecting that he's not who everyone says he is. If that man is the film's protagonist, we need to develop empathy for him. And the surest way to thwart any empathy is for the plot to make him a fool.

Why would a man who began by being suspicious of the story he was being set in, and who found more things to be suspicious of at every turn, keep reacting in the most foolish and trusting way? In the interest of not giving spoilers, let me just say that you or I, finding ourselves in his position, would've behaved far more sensibly than Alain Delon's character does here. The real fault lies in the plot for simply recycling a predictable story line and requiring stupidity of the "hero" in order to make it play out.

The film does offer two concession prizes: some appealing cinematography in the 1960s Eastmancolor process, and a cracking jazz score by François de Roubaix.