Are You There, Hollywood? It's Me-- Logic

All right, Hollywood, listen up.

Conan the Barbarian-- a surprise hit from 1980 in which Arnold Schwarzenegger grunts, yells, sticks his sword into a giant snake's jaw, and learns English as he goes. Followed by a generally disliked 1984 sequel and a 2011 remake that critics are hacking to pieces like Conan's family.

Fright Night-- a masterfully campy 1985 horror flick starring Chris Sarandon as a suave vampire, William Ragsdale as an overly imaginative teenage outcast who knows his secret, and Roddy McDowall as the late-night creature feature host who somehow gets roped into destroying the vampire. Followed by a generally disliked 1988 sequel and a 2011 remake with Collin Farrell, who in addition to Bullseye and Alexander the Great, now has "vampire" on his resume.

Planet of the Apes-- a cyclical film series reaching from 1968 to 1973, much beloved by fans of classic sci-fi, technically impressive but unrealistic ape makeup, and Charlton Heston. Followed by a merchandising empire, cartoons, a very short-lived 1974 TV series, and a 2001 "remake" by professional weirdo Tim Burton, which in turn was followed by the digitized 2011 "sequel/prequel/pseudo-remake" or whatever the heck you call Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

Well, listen, Hollywood, you've obviously had your hands full this year dredging up every decent movie ever made and reworking it into something new, uninspiring, unoriginal, and generally horrendous and disrespectful. (I just want to say, I think it's hilarious that the weekend Conan and Fright Night opened, literary adaptation The Help was tops at the box office-- thank you, people of America!) So let me save you a little time. There is one movie you are not remaking. Period.

I've let you get off with mere stern lectures with all you've done before-- reworking Fall of the Roman Empire into the dull and brainless Gladiator. Hiring the screenwriter of the brilliant 1976 supernatural thriller The Omen to remake his own masterpiece just to cash in on the 6/6/06 "event"! Well, that's fine and dandy. And to be honest, Conan the Barbarian wasn't even that great in 1980.

But keep your money-grubbing paws off Poltergeist.

Poltergeist-- a wonderful 1982 blockbuster in which crazy supernatural phenomena plague an ordinary American family-- a dad who watches too much football, a long-suffering mom, a teenage girl annoyed by everything, a little girl who sees weird things, and a tween boy who constantly gets on the nerves of his sisters. Steven Spielberg executive-produced, so the film had the same genuinely affecting family relationship drama of movies like Jaws and E.T., but it was directed by Tobe Hooper (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre), so it was extremely creepy. It was scored by none other than Jerry Goldsmith (the Omen trilogy, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Planet of the Apes, etc.), who got nominated for a certain award for it, and in addition to the standard eerie, ominous and suspenseful music, it also featured one of the sweetest, most astoundingly beautiful themes ever written for a motion picture, the lullaby-like "Carol Anne's Theme" (Carol Anne was the little girl).

Well, what else can I say? It had jaw-dropping special effects (which still look pretty good, I must say), not to mention one of the weirdest people ever to mosey out of a screenwriter's imagination: Tangina, the medium with the helium drawl. And, sitting here, listening to "Carol Anne's Theme," I have this sickening feeling that I'm about to be seeing a trailer for the new Poltergeist.

I don't think I could handle that. Because here's how it would happen. The eldest daughter would be played by a Kardashian. Disney Channel and Nickelodeon would supply players for the roles of the other two kids. The score would either consist of the madcap musical shenanigans of Danny Elfman, or they'd hire some atmospheric hack to do it (Tyler Bates and Marco Beltrami, come on down!) or just use horrible pop and rock songs. The storm scene would no longer feature little Robbie and Carol Anne walking in on their parents blazing up-- they'd be walking in on the most inappropriate sex scene since The Room.

And 3-D-- of course, it would be in 3-D.

So that tears it. There's no way you could conjure up a more familial brood than the original Freelings. No way you could wind up with a score that deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Goldsmith's. No way you could find another child actress to imbue Carol Anne with the sweetness and depth that were so effortless to young Heather O'Rourke. And besides, O'Rourke died just after finishing her role in the unfavorable Poltergeist III, at the age of twelve. So replacing her-- much like finding another Superman after Christopher Reeve-- is just, well... horrible!

Which means I just have to ask. What is the point of pumping so much money into this industry if all they're going to do is give us what we've already seen-- which was much, much better the first time around anyway?

An Exciting Time to Be Alive

Why waste your time in a college classroom learning about the past when you could be out experiencing the present and the future?

For one thing, college is ultimately cheaper.

For two things, the present is extremely scary, and the future-- well, the human race seems to be skyrocketing off the tracks like that train in Spider-Man 2.

But really, this is probably the most exciting time to be alive since the late 60s. I used to be totally enamored with the Vietnam Era-- a time when a massive, multifaceted juggernaut of civil rights movements begun, a time when the people of America finally, after almost two hundred years of "the same," finally allowed themselves to be different and, in so doing, advanced civilization a few centuries in the short space of a few summers (you know what I'm talking about-- hippies, women's lib, gay liberation, antiwar movements). I would love the music, the fiction, the poetry, the films, oh, dear, the films (especially those amazing epic roadshow movies we're not lucky enough to have around anymore!) and I would think, Why wasn't I born then?

So that I could be born and live in this world. Those movements that started in the 60s didn't bloom and then suddenly die. Many of them still live on and are still necessary. And I'm still not sure what to make of it, but something sparked in my human imagination when it seemed like the entire Middle East turned upside down with revolution after revolution. The hippies, the women's libbers, the gay libbers, the antiwar folks, and so on still have so much to achieve, and I really have a feeling that so many exciting things are going to happen in the next ten years or so.

Our popular music is garbage now. We've lost the ability to march with dignity. And instead of being entangled in one horrid international conflict, we are now hopelessly entangled in three. Fortunately, 60s fashion died in the 70s. Fortunately, the spirit of social equality and community didn't. And while I'd give anything to inject some Sand Pebbles, some Hawaiis, some Doctor Zhivagos and some Fiddlers on Roofs into this MTV/Tarantino-inspired cinema culture, I'm really glad to be alive at this time in history.

Okay, cinema, maybe just the occasional Ryan's Daughter?

(If you don't get these movie references, feel free to look them up.)

Clarification from the Last Post

Yeah, I also like some of those movies from that blog. Mostly Doctor Zhivago. Ivanhoe is all right. Top Gun-- eh.

Part of critiquing cinema is being able to find the faults and/or absurd things about any movie, even the good ones.

The common thread running through Zhivago-- before the Revolution starts, after the various romantic difficulties have worked themselves out-- is Omar Sharif's mustache. :)

A Little Humor for the New Year

There's something I've always wanted to do. I've wanted to engage myself as a writer of those little summaries for movies on cable TV. I think I'd be fairly good at it, immodest as it may sound. I've spent so much of my life in the glow of the screen that it's had two effects on me: (1) turned me into a huge celluloid nerd and (2) given me the gift to know when a summary misses the mark.

So here's a sampling of my proposed work. I think you'll find these are more accurate than those you'll see in the actual listings.

Independence Day (1996) Will Smith gets mad and shoots some aliens.

Scarface (1983) Al Pacino gets mad and shoots everyone in sight.

Hello, Dolly! (1969) Two and a half hours of your life you'll never get back.

The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) Ha! Fooled ya!

Ivanhoe (1952) People who talk funnily fight over some guy with a lion's heart, and presumably the ears of a bunny.

Driving Miss Daisy (1989) Morgan Freeman challenges Jessica Tandy to the sanctified "act-off."

All the President's Men (1976) A brutal indictment of '70s politics, but mostly of '70s hair.

Rocky (1976) The life story of the world's luckiest punching bag.

Alice in Wonderland (2009) Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with a rabbit.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2006) Like Alice in Wonderland with unnaturally white teeth.

Top Gun (1986) Story of the forbidden love between a man, a plane, and his wingman. And something about Kelly McGillis.

The Sound of Music (1965) The Austrian Partridge Family fight the Nazis with the power... of showstopping musical numbers!

Doctor Zhivago (1965) Omar Sharif grows a mustache... again.

The Last Airbender (2010) A once-revered filmmaker hits rock bottom after an eight-year descent.


And to everyone in my life-- especially those who are going through difficult times right now-- I just want you to understand that I honestly and irrevocably love you.

The Answer To Everything!

A brief message to the protesters who think the tumultuous personal strife suffered by the late Elizabeth Edwards-- including her death-- is all the result of God's anger over an accepting stance on same-sex marriage. And remember, these are the same folks who protest at soldiers' funerals.

Ahem. Protesters:

Is that your answer to everything? God hates gays, so He makes innocent people suffer? Is that really how you picture God? Vengeful and unflinching, inflicting pain on anyone even if they never committed the sin he's supposedly punishing?

Doesn't God love everyone? Didn't Christ on the cross-- which may be one of the most painful, humiliating experiences ever devised by man's twisted imagination-- turn his voice to heaven to ask God to forgive his torturers? Is that the kind of thing done by a god who smites anyone over any sin?

Most importantly of all: why must you add to the suffering of the already-beleaguered, people you claim have already been punished by God? If that's right, isn't punishment by God enough agony for them?

Personally, I don't believe God would have a problem with same-sex marriage. But I respect that people do have such an opinion. The thing is, most people who think that don't insist on using death and other senseless tragedy as a soap box for sending a message.

Call Me a Scrooge, But....

Why, you may ask (if you knew what I was listening to right now), am I listening to Miklos Rozsa's Sodom and Gomorrah soundtrack instead of immersing myself in Christmas music as the rest of the civilized world seems to have done?

A) Because Miklos Rozsa was one of the most phenomenal geniuses ever to inhabit the planet and even his score for that notoriously cruddy shambles of a screen spectacle is a glorious work of art, further reinforcing my belief that a Rozsa score could have improved even a modern joke like Transformers.

B) Because I'm already sick of it.

Christmas music has been slithering around the airwaves since early November, and I am burned out. After all, how many times can you hear "Rudolph" and "Frosty" and "White Christmas" and (shudder) "The Christmas Shoes" before you want to scream at the top of your lungs?

We of the Pacific Northwest are further graced (although disgraced may be more accurate) with the kind of regional hogwash that would make Giorgio Moroder cringe. Examples: "Christmas in the Northwest," a shamelessly emotional ballad celebrating the joys of living in a snowless but evergreen state, replete with an instrumental, string-dominated reprise of the chorus and a mention of God giving us a gift and wrapping it in... you guessed it, green; and a song whose title I believe is something like "Seattle's Latte Land," an irritating retread of "Winter Wonderland" that further reinforces the stereotype that all Seattleites are pretentious, coffee-guzzling elitists with an unhealthy appreciation for cutesy music.

I can actually, at times, enjoy the music of this festive season as much as the next guy. I absolutely love me some "harking" and "conspiring" by a "fire". But after a zillion not-too-different versions of the same old songs (local spoofs notwithstanding), enough is enough.

Here's a brief Christmas playlist that I've found serves as an effective antidote, at least temporarily, to the Xmas OD.

• A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack by Vince Guaraldi-- Dominated by Guaraldi's now-iconic (but then unknown) music such as "Linus and Lucy" and the elegant, wondrous "Christmastime is Here," this soundtrack only sparingly relies on the old favorites. And old Chuck's holiday specials are so legendary now that no amount of airtime overload could rip it from its beloved place in all our hearts. The soundtrack CD is a must even for jazz haters like myself.
• The Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack by Danny Elfman-- "What's This," "Kidnap the Sandy Claws," etc. Not many movies can claim to be multi-seasonal (Holiday Inn and Miracle on 34th Street are the only others that come even close in my book) and not many Christmas CDs offer boxes filled with poxes as a gift suggestion.
• Bob Rivers' Twisted Christmas Albums-- The cultural-lampoon smorgasbord that gave us such unforgettable gems as "Walkin' Round in Women's Underwear," "Chipmunks Roasting on an Open Fire" (Melvinnnnnn!) and "The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen." Need I say more?
• "Road to Bethlehem/The Nativity" from King of Kings/"Star of Bethlehem/Adoration of the Magi" from Ben-Hur by Miklos Rozsa-- If you know me (or have read the upper spiel on this post), you saw this one or something like it coming. But not many composers get the chance to score the same scenario for two different movies. Those that do usually don't succeed like Rozsa. "Nativity" captures more of the weariness, joy, and uncertainty of Christ's birth; "Star" and "Magi" are more awed and reverent, yet they both sound vaguely similar. Certainly no one ever wrote more beautiful music for Christ than Rozsa, and if these offerings aren't enough to convince you, check out also: the King of Kings theme, the Christ theme from Ben-Hur, and "Quo Vadis Domine" from Quo Vadis.

So no, Sodom and Gomorrah isn't exactly Christmas-like. But the next time I hear "The Twelve Days of You-Know-What" I'm going to scream like a banshee who's just been kicked south of the equator.

No Such Thing As "Too Low to Go On"

This is a bad time in my life. A lot of people said 2009 would probably be the worst year of our lives, but in reality, I think it had a lot of highs. Another happy, healthy baby was added to my always-extending pantheon of nieces and nephews. I graduated high school, which (not to sound too proud) was a pretty big accomplishment for me.

But 2010 is shaping up to be pretty bad. Last year, people were planning on saying, "At least I survived 2009!" I plan to say, "At least I survived 2010." The cruel irony that Peter Hyams and Arthur C. Clarke's 2010 happens to be one of my all-time favorite movies is not lost on me.

Particularly this month, things just aren't really right in my world. And I'm not talking about myself because apart from being unnaturally lonely (and it feels great to type that out) and unhealthily stressed out about a college that's messing with me like a shark toddler plays with toy chum, I'm pretty much OK. It would be nice if my problems could go away (in fact, I'll be eternally grateful to anyone who happens to have a magic button or wand laying around).

But I'm more concerned about the people who are important to me. About their baby drama. About their economic woes. About their clinical depression (and there's a lot of that in the air, which is not cool). About the fact that many of the people I know and hold dear are struggling so hard and there's really nothing I can do to help them.

About the recent (but no longer new) glut of bullying-related gay suicides. I don't know anyone directly affected by it, but it should be on everybody's minds. Fortunately, Dan Savage and other incredible people have put together the It Gets Better Project with the goal of helping prevent other similar tragedies. It's horrible enough when external violence claims a life for such a stupid reason. It doesn't need to get any more horrible.

Aaaaaand to top it all off, it's election season. Which means that the airwaves (both on radio and television), phone lines, and mailboxes are inundated with the additional negativity of hack politicians trying to drag their opponents down with them. Like we needed the extra stress! (My theory: if mudslinging were banned, nobody would ever run for public office.)

The point in all this is that life works itself out in the end. It's how I can still have hope for myself, and how I still have hope for all of you. I'm an optimist, no matter how negative I skew at times. I have a friend who likes to point out how depressing some of the movies I like are. She sees Tommy as a story about a traumatized child whose life ends in despair after losing everything and everyone he holds dear. I see it as a movie about a boy who is actually cured of being deaf, dumb and blind and comes out of the horrible tragedies life throws his way battered, yes, but a wiser person. I know someone else who insists Camelot is horribly depressing because two best friends go to war when one friend betrays the other with the other's wife. I see it as a story about a man whose optimism and love help him to create a fantastic dream-- that fails, yes, but in the end, his optimism and love help him realize that there is a future as long as we remember the past. I suppose one could also see Carousel as a story about a layabout wifebeater who somehow ends up in heaven and whose widow never moves on with her life-- I see it as the quintessential tale of redemption and family love, and there is nothing downbeat about that ending on the seashore after the graduation.

Yes, these examples are all from movies. You should know how I operate by now. But you know-- no low is too low. Life is bowl-parabolic in nature. It may dip, but it always turns back upwards. Always.

Anarchy in the Streets

Just today, I was walking. You know, being a pedestrian and that? Well, let me reaffirm one of my long-held observations about traffic: you can't be an aggressive walker. Many people choose to be aggressive drivers, but that's because they have big, powerful automobiles at their command. But if you want to be an aggressive walker, your days are pretty much numbered because some drivers will do anything to save a few seconds.

Well, I was crossing the street not far from where I live. It's a three-way stoplight: west, east, and south, with clearly marked, lit crosswalks. Since traffic rarely comes from the south, it's hard to cross from north to south-- it requires a lot of waiting, usually. But that's okay. What's not okay to me as a walker (and a human being with common sense) are all the people who don't realize that, since it's not forbidden by a sign, right turners at this light coming from the south are allowed to take their turn even though they have a red light provided there is no traffic coming. I can't stand waiting for the light and seeing this person (who, apparently, doesn't know driving laws as well as some of us who don't have licenses) wait, pulled completely forward past the near crosswalk and virtually into the potentially approaching traffic, for a green light to take their turn even though they've had countless opportunities to turn. You see, usually what happens in these scenarios is, I get my walk light and they get a green at the same time, and they seem to expect to be able to turn first-- even though the pedestrian has the right of way. I've been honked at, sworn at, and who knows what else at this crosswalk because I know that their green will last a good twenty seconds or so after my light is completely gone, so I go first because (a) it's my right and (b) I'm not at all slow when I cross the street, so they don't have to wait much longer anyway.

Well, today it happened again. Same crosswalk. Honk and all. Only today, the story is slightly different because I encountered this driver a second time, pulling out of a driveway that had no traffic light. He was in a truck, ready to turn right across two lanes of traffic (on a fairly busy street-- a right turn and a turnaround probably would have been quicker). As could be expected, he was pulled completely out into the bike lane, interfering with pedestrians' ability to cross because we would either have to walk around his truck or step out onto the street to get past. I didn't realize it was the same truck at first, but when the passenger took the time and effort to flip me off on the rebound, I knew fate had struck once more. Obviously, my adherence to what I thought was a well-known and perfectly reasonable law caused these people so much inconvenience and irritation that they carried a grudge, and possibly still do. (I should also explain that I'm wearing a bright, fairly distinctive shirt right now.)

Once again, I feel like I'm expected to be at the mercy of impatient, possibly reckless motorists just because I don't have a way to transport myself right now except for my own two legs and the local transit systems. Somehow the hierarchy of traffic has toppled, with vehicles at the top of the pyramid, crushing cyclists, who in turn are spinning their wheels over pedestrians. But the fact is fairly simple. The only vehicle I own right now is myself. I'm a human being. A slightly overweight human being, to be sure, but if I walked into a car (which would be fairly amusing to see) it really wouldn't cause any damage. Cars "walking" into human beings, however, can cause anything from a broken bone to an ended life. So, yes, unfortunately, that does require paying attention. (Walkers have to pay attention, too.) And being patient. And realizing that traffic laws are there for a reason.

No, I'm not the kind of person who is offended by every middle finger thrown his way. But in this case, it's just another depressing reminder that taking a walk is taking your life into your hands.

The Movie That [Should Have] Started a Revolution

Okay, the title is a bit of an overreaction. Either that or it needs clarification: I'm not talking about an actual gunpowder-and-guts revolution like that little tiff we had with King George, nor the strong surge of noncooperation that freed India from the British. I'm talking about a cultural revolution-- a swift, sudden, and mass re-wiring of the way we view our fellow human beings.

The reason I watch movies so often is not because I mistake them for real life, nor because I prefer the simulated human interactions therein to those with real people. Neither of those items hold true for me. I watch movies for a number of complex reasons, the pertinent one of the day being that it always amazes me the way some films can either galvanize and polarize the public... or simply be allowed to be relegated to the status of "cute, moderately successful and perfectly harmless message movie." For instance, Spartacus ignited a war over censorship that raged on into the early 90s; David Lean's Doctor Zhivago, on the other hand, became little more than a 200-minute sleeping pill with a repetitive score and some requisite themes about individuality and the strength of the human heart.

The movie I'm about to discuss, unfortunately, has become a disciple of the Zhivago tradition. The difference: it's actually worth three and a half hours (although it lasts less than half of that time) and should have become something big. But, being an independent comedy, let's face it, it never had a chance.

Today's movie, class, is called Were the World Mine. Simply put (if you can put it simply), it tells of the bizarre events that transpire when a far-out English teacher decides to put on a production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream... at the all-boys high school where she works. She casts a reluctant but shockingly talented guy named Timothy in the role of Puck. Timothy-- being gay-- has been abused by his schoolmates for years, and the play invites more and more trauma into his life, particularly from the school rugby team (yes, rugby) and its alarmingly macho coach, who is not pleased with the thought of the rugby players playing the likes of fairies and girls. Meanwhile, Timothy gets fed up with all the attitude, and finds, between the lines of the play's text, the recipe for Cupid's Love Juice, which, when sprayed on someone's eyes, causes them to fall in love with the first person they see.

Timothy sprays it on everyone, starting with the entire rugby team, who are soon pairing off like jackrabbits; the rugby coach, who develops a burning passion for the principal; the principal's creepy, cosmetic-hawking wife, who becomes unnaturally enamored of Timothy's bewildered mother, etc. One girl's would-be boyfriend ends up pining for Puck while not one, but two, cheerleaders are trying to catch her eye. Most of the students' parents, however, seem to have missed the memo, demanding that the English teacher be fired and the play be canceled. The teacher seeks out Timothy, who's gotten what he wanted but caused a dangerous mix-up, and must set things straight (no pun intended) at the play, which will, in fact, go on.

The point is that Were the World Mine raises not just one, but a handful of issues that are very important. The most important is the fear and ostracism that gay teenagers face, from both the adults they should trust and the peers with whom they should be friends. This is a situation that must be remedied immediately. In some cases, it can contribute to teen suicide; but it's still reprehensible in less dire circumstances. It's amazing how people are willing to start throwing stones at perceived sinners, even though Jesus expressly forbade it. And adolescence is torturous enough without teens having an extra helping of pain and insult heaped on them. Contrary to popular belief, homosexuality is no more a choice than humanity. Well, genetic humanity, at any rate.

Less critically, the movie calls foul on high schools that emphasize athletics and demand preferential treatment over the arts. I'm not saying either deserves more than the other. A reasonable society should accomodate both. The arts are a part of our culture's past as well as its future; athletics, on the flipside, promotes health and (in the ideal conditions) healthy competition. I don't believe a country with such a high obesity rate can afford to abandon physical education, but if that's all our schools take pride in, we'll have a very fit, but very illiterate, nation.

Sadly, no one watched the movie. Well, okay, a lot of people did-- it was a festival flick, and a very popular one, at that. But given that there are no (fiery) explosions and it's not a remake of a slasher flick, it never got the wide exposure our society so richly needed it to get. So watch it! Spread the word! Share it with everyone you know! No matter what your political leaning, this is a crucial movie. If more modern films were like this, we'd get an added bonus: we might occasionally have something worthwhile to see at the theater! (No offense to Toy Story 3 or Fantastic Mr. Fox.)

He Who Is Tired Of Sarcasm Is Tired Of Life

Such a man would have sat in front of a blank computer screen for about five minutes without thinking of anything sad about the world to comment on. He would be so dull and run-down that he would insert all kinds of extraneous and redundant words into his blog post and capitalize every single letter in his title line.

It isn't that the week has been uneventful. I mean, for crying out loud, I wrote about music last week, didn't I? Old music. Music that you've probably never heard from movies you've probably never seen because I have extremely personalized tastes... but I digress. That isn't the topic for this week. But when I logged on to my home site and saw the so-called "news" and its top headline-- Lady Gaga's showstopping outfit for the VMAs-- I was suddenly hit with a soul-crushing wave of sheer... inertia. The world has gone beyond what I want to imagine it as, so I know longer try to imagine (or rather fathom) it.

I mean, you would think that nine years after the barbarity and tragedy of 9/11, people finally would have realized that Americans need to accept one another and stand together as one country. But instead of the wonderful, heart-swelling sense of national oneness I felt even at the age of ten after the events of that day, I would say that, in terms of interpersonal relations and cultural consciousness, we're at an even worse place. In a nation where we were once so afraid of Communists that we ostracized anyone who fit our stereotype of what a Communist should be (primarily those of Russian descent), only the names and stereotypes have changed. Now we shun all Muslims because of a minority among their numbers who are more vocal and who menace us. Gay marriage is still illegal in most states, and gay parents are viewed as incompetent. After 9/11, our priorities should have been thus. 1: the heartbreaking exercise of cleanup. That was dealt with with resolve, stamina, and heroism. 2: the swift, furious, and precise pursuit of those responsible. We all know how that one worked out. But at least we gave it a shot (however far from the bullseye). Not like 3: securing the same freedoms of marriage, parenthood, and recognition for everyone. Making sure that a widow/widower/orphan of such a day wouldn't be denied key information because of something so trivial as "legal relationship" if-- and may every force of divinity and nature forgive me for the inevitable thought we've all had-- something like that should ever happen again.

But nine years later, I still see the same hateful rhetoric being spewed out to keep these rights from others. It is important to note that I realize that not every opponent of gay marriage is hateful. But what can I say? Everyone is equal. And I used to think what made this country so great was its sense of (forgive the sexist word) brotherhood. But I no longer see that.

The reality is simply this. The legality of marriage is a civil concept, not a religious one. Why else would (heterosexual) civil ceremonies be as valid under U.S. law as spiritual ones? The federal or state governments both lack the authority to use such a broad criteria as gender to deny the civil benefits of marriage. Each individual religion can deal with the issue as it will, at least in my opinion, because just as the government can't deny the right to marry, neither can it deny the right to worship as an individual or religious body sees fit, however personally we may disagree with their teachings. That's that "First Amendment" thing we've been hearing about... which, incidentally, makes it possible for me to ramble on in my second overly long post in a week.

Sexual, religious, and familial morals are not to be enforced or judged by the state. One person's civil rights-- be they the right to marry or the right to micromanage the institution by establishing gender rules for it-- are not up for a vote.

And what do I say to a person who would tell a child that their home life is abnormal and their parents are living in sin? I would say this: what kind of horrible person says something like that to a child? Or about a child?

Another grand truth: there is no normal home life. We were all raised under different circumstances. The so-called "traditional family" also didn't exist until one group or another tried to corral everyone under the same, highly exclusive moral umbrella. But the thing people invoke when they say "traditional family"-- the idea of a number of kids raised by a married mother and father-- will continue until the world has ended.

Two people have only the power to cheapen their own marriage, not the whole institution. But if the cheapening of marriage was possible... it's already happened. Look to rock stars, pop stars, movie stars, professional athletes, and certain other mouthy hypocrites when you assign blame.

As two people can cheapen a marriage, so too can they cause it to appreciate. Remember that, too. I've seen my share of unhappily married couples, but I've also seen plenty that work very hard and love each other very much. That's a good thing, no matter whether your towels say "His & Hers" or "Hers & Hers."

To reiterate-- leave civil marriage open to all. You can't tell me a Britney Spears husband-du-jour is less damaging to the institution than a lifelong menu of husband and husband/wife and wife baguette. (I don't know why gay marriage is a baguette; a croissant, if you will, or perhaps an eclair; maybe less fancy, like a cinnamon raisin bagel. Hold on a minute, I'm kind of hungry.)

This has been an experiment in unfocused writing (in case you couldn't tell, har-har-har). I started going with one thing, and I just wanted to see where I'd wind up. The results tell me I'll be hawking equal rights until I die.

No classic arts news to report this time around, although I will say for the thousandth time: Exorcist II: The Heretic is not that bad.

Why This Nineteen-Year-Old Thinks They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

So I was listening to the "Epic Film Scores of Miklos Rozsa" the other day. It is by far one of the best albums ever conceived, fourteen epic film score tracks (four from Ben-Hur [1959], three from El Cid [1961], three from Quo Vadis [1951], and four from King of Kings [1961]) plus, as a bonus, Rozsa's twelve-minute concerto from Spellbound. The music inspired me to see the only one of those four epics I'd never seen before, King of Kings. And a thought hit me like a ton of bricks and a ton of feathers while I was trying to figure out whether or not the actress who played Mary actually said her own lines.

King of Kings... is not a great movie. It's probably not even a good movie. Films about the life of Christ are as numerous as those loaves on the Mount (after the multiplication, of course), and tend to fall into a predictable pattern: Jesus is a long-haired white guy who performs miracles, is persecuted, then betrayed, then crucified, and ultimately resurrected. Of course that's the way the story has to be told, and it is a very good story at that (although the movie, The Greatest Story Ever Told, was a giant crock; at least this one is better). But after all, how many times can you watch the Nativity, then the miracles, then the Last Supper, then the Garden of Gethsemane, then the trial, then Golgotha, then (in many versions) the third day? I've counted, thus far, eight, including one rock opera and one interpretive version set in early-1970s New York. But while King of Kings goes beyond the scope of most Christ stories-- it begins with General Pompey, who was hunted down and killed thirty years before Christ was born-- and includes more of the "teen years" of Christ's life than we ever learned in Sunday school (yes, I went to Sunday school for several years), it's still the same story. Jesus is born in a stable; spirited to Egypt to save his life from Herod's order and so forth. And the key role is played by Jeffrey Hunter-- yes, Captain Christopher Pike from the original Star Trek-- and even though this movie was five years before that show, and even though he's decked out in Jesus' long-haired white boy costume, you really can't avoid thinking, "Great boar of Samoa! It's Captain Pike!"

But, at long last, we come to my epiphany, received after a few hours of looping the movie's mystical, solemn theme music.

It's nothing religious, though I know some people are apt to have religious experiences while watching or reading Biblical stories. It's purely the envy (yes, a sin, I know) of a nineteen-year-old guy who has survived the cinematic indignity of going to a theatre and seeing that the most popular films are the likes of Get Him To the Greek, Legally Blonde, and Transformers.

The point: where is the music in these dreadful nightmares of cultural degradation?

All film music these days has pretty much been reduced to either generic, percussive "stock music" (in movies like Pirates of the Caribbean, Gladiator, and Transformers) or playlists of popular songs by shallow, popular artists. Occasionally, you do have a film that has its own unique sound (such as Alexander and Avatar) but, walking away from them, there's nothing you remember. And your feeling or appreciation of the movie has not been helped by the music, which means the music no longer serves its purpose.

So here's my question, or really more of a collage of same: Is it laziness? Whether moviegoers are too lazy to get invested in something that doesn't explode or so-called "composers" are too lazy to write anything that does, is that the reason for this latest alarming downward trend? Or are today's composers intimidated by the quality of the work of artists like Rozsa, Alex North, Dimitri Tiomkin, Alfred Newman, Jerry Goldsmith, and even the more contemporary John Williams (what is he up to now, by the way?), with the result that the field has reached a point of utter, existential stagnation?

I'm guessing the former. And another note: this puts fans of my favorite musical genre at a significant disadvantage. Most music lovers get to discover new music. But there's nothing coming out these days that people like me would be interested in!

This is a long post, and I promise it's almost over. I just have to go back for a second to my mention of the film El Cid. Have you seen it? Charlton Heston plays Rodrigo Diaz of Vivar (also known as the Cid), a heroic historical Spaniard who fought to unite the people of Spain-- Christians and Muslims, Moors-- against the invading Moors from Africa. All in all, it's a great movie. There is, however, one glaring flaw in it. The leader of the African Moors, Ben Yusuf (Herbert Lom, Clouseau's self-flagellating boss from the Pink Panther films), is a purely evil character. He has no depth, no nuance, and no motivation (beyond, apparently, being a Muslim) for wanting to destroy the Christians of Spain. Most of the film's other Muslims have a similar attitude, with the exception of the "good Muslims," those who join forces with the Cid for the greater good of Spain, who do seem to be fairly well-rounded characters. But from all the stories in the news lately, I can't help thinking that most people in this country are getting their ideas of Muslims from Lom's portrayal of Ben Yusuf. The entire religion is being painted with a mind-bogglingly wide brush as evil Satanic terrorists. By the same logic, one could call Christians a bunch of torturous, goose-stepping, book-burning, stubborn scum, judging solely from the events of small groups of them in times of history like the Holocaust and the Spanish Inquisition.

But no religion is so simple that it can be defined by the actions of its extremist fringe, and no human being is so simple that they can be defined by the actions of others of similar-- though perhaps still widely diverging-- religious beliefs.

Sigh... where have all the Rozsas gone?

I Will Say This... And No More

I do not like Glenn Beck. Ideological differences aside (and they are huge), I still can find nothing about him worth respecting. I do not like his smug, superior voice, which puts unnecessary emphasis on every single word. I do not like his conceited smile. I do not like people who fill other people's heads with fear in an effort to control them and obtain their support.

He insists "progressivism" is a disease. Well, Beck Man, I got news for you. Progressivism is how women in this country got the vote and how people of all colors can vote without having to submit to a "literacy test." Progressives control the flow of American destiny. When we really do have justice for everyone (cough cough gay marriage cough) we can finally say that progress has worked. What's so wrong about every law-abiding American having the same rights? According to Beck, it's cancerous to believe such a thing.

So I'd like to maintain a safe distance from Beck and all his venomous, hateful rhetoric that disguises prejudice and arrogance as the will of God. Let me ask you a question. Doesn't God have compassion for all people? God doesn't hate. God doesn't hold grudges, or care about opinion polls. God knows whether President Obama is a Muslim or a Christian (not that it really matters), and whether he was really born in the United States (and haven't we moved past that by now?!).

So enough already! If you've got nothing but violent hate and festering anecdotes, don't pass it off as fact. Glenn Beck doesn't need to reclaim America's honor-- he needs to claim some common sense!

An Important Aside to Xander Candor Readers and Perusers: Please don't forget to vote in Xander Candor's poll every month. The current poll (which you should be able to find at the top left of the blog) runs all through September. I look forward to your answers!

FAQ

In perusing the comments you readers leave on my blog, I occasionally discover questions you ask me that I, initially, wasn't too sure how to answer. Should I leave a comment on the post in reply? No-- good chance you wouldn't see it. Should I go to your own individual blog and leave a message in the interest of "reciprocity"? No-- not as easy to refer back to prior comments.

Finally, I settled on a method. I realized I've been fortunate enough to have people who actually read my random (and very leftist) ramblings from time to time. So I want to thank anyone who reads Xander Candor-- remember, without my readers, I'm just a crazy guy with a keypad and access to the internet. So thank you! And from time to time, I shall produce an "FAQ" post to not only answer questions, but also address some of the more interesting non-interrogative points.

Following my first "Worst Movies of All Time" list, I was asked how I first saw Twilight by a reader (you know who you are-- hi!) who, apparently, was a big fan of the books and refused to watch the movies. The A to that Q: I was being visited by a certain sister who decided to watch it. She had a certain infant son at the time, and without the crib, when his naptime rolled around, he had to be held by someone. That someone was his uncle. So for two hours, the nephew was asleep and I was stuck while that certain sister watched for the very first time Twilight. People holding sleeping babies, understandably, have very little mobility.

As for one of the other comments on that post... well, I simply think Stephenie Meyer needs to go away. I would prefer a secluded island somewhere where the world will never know what she's up to, except perhaps close friends and family members. But any words from this day on that leave her pen (or word processing software, as you will) will immediately be blasted by yours truly as more civilization-killing blandness.

And someone (or someones) keep leaving random snippets of profound statements on the comment posts. I have no idea who you are, but it's always very interesting to read. Thank you.

By the way, if you're not watching Futurama, you should be. It will remind you that there are gifted people working in TV and cinema these days... they're just getting quieter and less numerous.

Thank you for your attention.

Victory at C... California, That Is!

Congratulations, Judge Vaughn Walker. You helped strike a victory for justice, morality and decency this week.

I'm referring, of course, to his decision to overturn California's unnecessary, hateful, overwhelmingly phobic ban on same-sex marriage.

The ban (known on the ballot as Proposition 8) was passed with a 2% majority in the enormous southwestern state back in Aught-8. Of course, by democratic rules, a simple majority was needed. But 2% is a little nebulous, wouldn't you say? So thanks to its powerful backers (entirely religious-conservative, although I'm sure confusion over the wording of the proposition did contribute some) which included apolitical churches and fear-and-hatemongering politicians and pundits, hordes of loving, committed couples were no longer allowed to enter into the same holy sanctity of marriage shared by billions throughout history who were happily and successfully united. Also Henry VIII and Britney Spears.

"Sanctity of marriage" is an abstraction, and in my mind, entirely personal. The institution of marriage, in my opinion, has no universal sanctity when it can be dissolved with a simple phrase as vague as "irreconcilable differences." And not when thousands of couples are drunkenly married in Vegas not knowing their spouses' names. Not when supermodels and "actors/actresses" have new wedded spouses every month. If you ask me, two married people create their own sanctity by their devotion to each other. A marriage isn't automatically better because it's between a man and a woman instead of two men or two women.

This, of course, applies only to civil marriages and marriages performed under faiths that embrace same-sex couples. Obviously, all religions are welcome to set their own standards for who is worthy of marriage. But with that right comes the responsibility not to interfere with those who choose love and equality. And yes, I realize that's a loaded sentence, because I don't believe discrimination against the GLBTQ is any better than discrimination against racial or religious minorities, or against women. Or men, for that matter-- no double standards today, thank you very much.

Quite frankly, the tidal wave sweeping across this country to make way for victory on this issue is the same that previously surged across America and ended slavery and allowed women to vote. It's called progress.

So well done, California. I await the results of the appeals. My advice to the ban proponents: Don't push it, please. Sometimes the world needs to change. This is one such time.

The Newest Plot by Extremist Wackos Masquerading as Concerned Citizens

I know that title line is a little dramatic, but let's face facts. Extremist nuts on both the left and the right are intent on utterly destroying this nation. This week, we hear from the right.

I read a letter to the editor of the Everett Herald on Monday suggesting that to help balance the state's budget by completely defunding Planned Parenthood. For those of you who don't know, Planned Parenthood is a clinic of sorts that provides all sorts of family planning and sex-ed services, including but not limited to: free STD screenings, contraceptive distribution, and even abortions.

My personal feelings on abortion aside, it is by no means the only service provided by Parenthood. Far more effort and attention are lavished on prevention, including educating people about the risks of sexual activity and all potential repercussions-- including pregnancy. People like the guy who wrote this letter would have us believe that Planned Parenthood is nothing but a baby butcher shop.

What happens when struggling, unwealthy young women and men (as Planned Parenthood serves both) need the kind of advice/counseling/education that they can only get from a place like Parenthood, and they find they can't get it because the platform has been yanked from directly beneath the organization? Contrary to popular fringe-wacko belief, if they can't find the services they need, they won't abstain from the dirty deed. They'll do it without protection and education if necessary. What happens then? Best case scenario, no negative consequences. Or there could be an unplanned pregnancy, which is likely to end in abortion or (billions of times worse!) postnatal abandonment. Or there could be a sexually transmitted disease. Without the kind of services and products that Parenthood provides, that burden may end up falling even harder on (you guessed it) the taxpayer when the party/parties concerned need cheap healthcare or possibly hospital attention due to childbirth.

Believing that abstinence prevails is a foolhardy idea that endangers millions of lives. Human beings seem to have a fair amount of control over their instincts and urges; but in most cases, it's still not enough. Which is why any doctrine (be it religious, political, or purely personal) that preaches abstinence and also condemns the use of contraceptives is a doctrine of death. Next time, the violently hateful people who sit in many positions of authority should try teaching instead of firing off. They might learn something themselves in the process.

Defunding Planned Parenthood is not the act of concerned citizens interested in maintaining the moral purity and low tax prices they've come to cherish. It sends the message that if you want to have sex before marriage, you deserve any ill fortune that befalls you. That's just rhetoric.

Still in the News?!

Several months ago (I believe roughly in the vicinity of September), renowned filmmaker (renowned strictly in cinematic circles) Roman Polanski was apprehended by authorities in connection with a 1977 child-rape case. I blogged about the event when it occurred, likening the media to vultures swooping upon decaying carrion, but also saying it's right and just that Polanski pay for his crime. And quite frankly, child rape is, in my opinion, one of the worst crimes of them all.

Well, people are still talking about it! There was an opinion piece in one of the newspapers recently calling for a boycott of Polanski's films.

You have got to be kidding me.

Let's all agree that the rape was heinous and disgusting. Rape always is. But what bearing does it have on the quality of a movie like Rosemary's Baby, which was released nine years before the crime was committed? Or Polanski's adaptation of Shakespeare's "Scottish play," which was released six years before?

I'm sure that proponents of the boycott will insist that, for instance, Rosemary's Baby reflected early signs of a troubled, potentially violent mind. The film's plot involves a young wife being drugged by her neighbors and dragged unconscious to a Satanic ritual wherein the living devil is conjured up, then proceeds to impregnate her. Disney fare it ain't. But before you boycott it, bear in mind that: (a) it is based on a novel written by Ira Levin, who has no other connection to the director; (b) it's purely fictional; and (c) the whole nine year thing!

Polanski's films exist in a world completely separate of his crime. It is not fair to the hundreds upon hundreds of other artisans who craft a motion picture together to boycott them because of one individual. If you object to Rosemary's Baby, object to the content or the thematic elements. Even object to the tacky 60s styles before the director! Polanski's crimes should be judged as criminal. His films? Purely as cinematic. Take OJ Simpson, for example. The man may be one of the worst actors in history, but that's how I remember his film work. And only how.

A Point of Clarification

I have recently learned that there are plans to build a mosque on Ground Zero. Naturally, this is very contentious. I happened to have a few thoughts on the matter.

My first comment concerns those who believe the mosque would be an affront to the memories, dreams, and survivors of the holocaust (note the lack of capital letter; this does not refer to the inhuman tragedy of WWII, but to that of September 11). I would say that these people need to understand what they condemn. When humans and other animals are wounded-- when our communities are deliberately attacked in such a wanton, premeditated, brutal, and devastating fashion-- the desire for revenge often overrides reason and intellect. But after almost nine years, are we still at that stage? Still salivating for vengeance and not caring whether the vengeance is misdirected as long as it hits "them"?

What I mean is, the true religion of Islam is one that teaches good, decency, and love. So is Judaism. So is Christianity. These three radically different religions, all born in the same part of the world, are really not so "different" at all. There is a "they" responsible for 9/11. But if you have decided that "they" means "all Muslims," you are wrong. The attack was sanctioned by a minority group of extremists who believed they needed to destroy all their enemies in a whirlwind of fire and blood. That group of extremists is responsible for 9/11.

I am, however, rather curious about why it was decided to build a mosque at Ground Zero. My theory is that the entity/entities who conceived of the idea believed it would be a symbol of peace and understanding. That is a worthy goal, certainly, but it completely ignores the truth of human nature: many humans won't tolerate peace and understanding because they'll take them for signs of weakness. Or because they live in a world removed from the two concepts and would rather see anything different die because it's not the same.

The only alternative to that theory is as sick and twisted as can be imagined considering the circumstances-- that someone thought of the idea directly to cause conflict, knowing full well that the angry and resentful would see it as an insult and a desecration.

In light of these thoughts, I really don't know what to think about this mosque. But I would hate to see one more hateful word spewed, or (infinitely worse) one more life taken because we human beings aren't ready for peace and understanding.

Where Evil Lurks, Part 2: And the Losers Are....

Here we are, dear readers. After much skimming over of lists detailing horrid films it couldn't be narrowed down any more than this. A tie between two films in the same franchise. Appropriately, movies this bad, this devious, and this painful to watch could only be about one character: the Antichrist.

When The Omen (1976) was first conceived, it was a very different movie than it became: tasteless, obvious, and heinously irresponsible. Fortunately writer David Seltzer and director Richard Donner came to focus on the power of faith as a theme rather than the existence of evil, making the original Omen film a staggering story of a man forced to come to terms with the nature of God when confronted with the ultimate challenge to the survival of goodness: the birth of Satan's son. Many Christian groups (including the Vatican) praised the film for helping to bring wayward Christians back to their various churches. But it succeeded with more than just the message: it allowed Fox to recover from a serious financial drought, and some of the profits were used to make George Lucas' most popular film, Star Wars. A sequel was guaranteed.

Sadly, neither Donner nor Seltzer returned for Damien: Omen II (1978).

Set some six or seven years after the original, Damien focuses on the title Antichrist as a whiny pubescent brat played with supreme obnoxiousness by Jonathan Scott-Taylor. It depicts his discovery of his true identity and an attempt (very similar to that in the first film in terms of story structure) to destroy him spearheaded by his wary uncle (William Holden) and (perhaps unwittingly) thwarted by his suspiciously overprotective aunt (Lee Grant). It's formulaic, in other words. It's no spoiler to tell you that Holden's character dies at the end after failing to eliminate Damien. Nor to tell you that anyone who even tries to solve the mystery of his identity meets an untimely end.

But those untimely ends represent what is majorly, glaringly wrong with the film. The original used subtle, virtually bloodless means to dispatch its victims, and the audience never saw it coming. In the sequel, however, the writers ridiculously decided to vamp up the violence and gore. One character falls several stories in an elevator and is subsequently sliced in half by a live cable from the ceiling. Another has his/her eyes picked out by ravens and is subsequently bowled over by a conveniently located, nonchalant semi truck. It's absolutely sick. Sick and unintelligent.

Perhaps worse than the gruesome deaths is the acting. Laborious, budget-busting director Mike Hodges was replaced early on by schedule and budget-friendly Don Taylor, but Taylor was obviously so concerned with finishing the picture on time that he neglected to procure passable performances from his cast-- even the great Holden is listless, lifeless and bored. Even Jerry Goldsmith's music fails, though not as spectacularly. Without a doubt, Damien is the worst sequel of all time.

Remakes, however, are another matter.

The Omen franchise survived through one more theatrical movie (infinitely better than the second), a cheesy and preposterous TV "movie," and an inexplicable NBC pilot that had nothing to do with the real Omen. When 6/6/2006 rolled around (thirty years to the day since the release of the original), Fox once more trotted out one of its most puzzlingly uneven franchises with a remake of the original film, once more written solely by David Seltzer.

Seltzer uses exactly the same plot. Gone, however, are the cheesy 70s haircuts, the subtlety, the fantastic and effective music, and any hint of originality. The deaths are bloodier and one has been completely altered, all done to cater to the moviegoing crowd of the year 2006. Liev Schreiber (a capable enough thespian) stands in the role originated by Gregory Peck and is no substitute. Julia Stiles takes over from the late, incomparable Lee Remick in the role of the mother and wife-- she was in Save the Last Dance, which speaks for itself. Mia Farrow plays the evil nanny once played brilliantly by Billie Whitelaw, and even she is terrible, as are Pete Postlethwaite, Michael Gambon, and that irritating new kid playing five-year-old son-of-sin Damien. Instead of crafting an innovative or at least useful score, as Goldsmith did, Marco Beltrami uses what sounds like modern stock music. And instead of the subtle terror of the original, the "director" uses sudden appearances by mysterious masked figures (which look like they escaped from a bad M. Night Shyamalan flick) to keep the audience on edge.

The point is, how dare they remake a classic like that?! Fortunately, their marketing ploy (6/6/06) didn't work, and the loose excuse for a film will forever stand on its own. Fortunately, we have at least one great Omen movie to look back on and preserve as an American cultural milestone. Next thing you know, they'll be remaking Star Wars.

And that concludes XC's list of the 10 worst movies of all time. Okay, 11, my mistake. If you ever get curious, you can check them out (if you haven't seen them already), but now you've been warned. Heed the omens (hee hee hee) and escape while you still can!

Footnote: The world is a joke, in case you've been following the news, or in case you haven't.

Xander's Film Registry Continued: Where Evil Lurks

Hey, folks. It just occurred to me that this is the 75th post on Xander Candor. That's kind of like a milestone, or so it seems, so I want to do something special for it. On my last Film Registry post, I promised that when I went back to the Registry, I would create its opposite number-- a sort of "hall of shame" (forgive the cliche) in which would dwell the most insipid and poorly executed films of all time, movies to avoid at all costs. I managed to coalesce the overt hideousness in the annals of cinema into a list of eleven-- ten seemed just a tad inadequate, as there is a tie for the #1 spot, which is really no great honor. Let me begin by saying I salute filmmakers with the courage to make nothing out of something. But if you're not trying to make a piece of trash... where do you go wrong anyway? Previous Registry entries have been in chronological order; this list is presented as a countdown. Enjoy the list; avoid the movies.

10) Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1978)
I thought it would be one of those so-bad-it's-amazing cult wonders, like Howard the Duck and The Apple. But it's not. Every negative word against this "film" is correct and appropriate. Everyone herein renders Beatles tunes fairly capably (the soundtrack is pleasant to hear), but the imagery and personalities are so grating that the music means nothing. The characters live in a bland middle American town called Heartland, USA and lead their bland lives, except for the Lonely Hearts Club Band, who must rescue Heartland from the insidious FVB (Future Villain Band-- the writer was not very clever or subtle). There's a character named Strawberry Fields (guess what her big song is?) and a band called Lucy and the Diamonds. I have always liked Julie Taymor's Across the Universe. But seeing how bad a Beatles jukebox musical could be made me love it even more.

9) Forrest Gump (1994)
Sorry, folks, I don't see the attraction. Tom Hanks is not at fault for the mess that was made of this movie. Otherwise, it's just one big visual gimmick that tries to have heart but instead makes a pastime of awkwardness and discomfort. And at nearly 150 minutes, it somehow manages to feel longer than the three-hour disaster The Fall of the Roman Empire.

8) Somewhere in Time (1980)
I have nothing but respect for the late Christopher Reeve. He was a "Man of Steel" off-screen as well as on, and the best true-life hero Hollywood has ever provided. The biggest mistake of his career? Accepting the male lead in this low-key, visually disorienting adaptation of a talky, incoherent Richard Matheson story in which a man falls in love with a woman decades in the past. It's absolutely hokey and unbelievable, but sadly it more closely follows the pattern of a cheesy romance than a campy one.

7) Romeo + Juliet (1996)
My opinion of Shakespeare's most famous tragedy is negative at best. But while I've never seen a direct adaptation of it I even remotely liked, Baz Luhrmann's DiCaprio/Danes travesty is by far the worst ever. Set in "Verona Beach, California" in the nineties, it features guns called "Swords", Mercutio in high heels, and... Leonardo DiCaprio (enough said). There is also too much color, and the cast acts like they're reading "Dawson's Creek" rather than acting the Bard of Avon.

6) Cabaret (1972)
Occasionally you will see a movie that will make you ask, "Why in the wide, wide universe would I ever have sat through this?" Cabaret is such a movie. Joel Grey is pretty funny as the emcee, but that lead actress (we do not speak her name) seems not only a waste of celluloid, but at times even a waste of... everything. She plays a capricious, frivolous, irritating, frustratingly nonchalant and selfish songbird who demands the world's attention and claws at the spotlight like a feral cat. That's not acting.

5) Transformers (2007)
Or: What's Wrong With 21st-Century Filmmaking. Executive-produced by once-genius Steven Spielberg and directed by the bland Michael Bay, starring the uninspired Shia LeBeouf and the meaningless Megan Fox, it updates the 1980s toy franchise, bringing every element of it into the modern time period... except the ridiculous cartoon voice of Optimus Prime. It's obviously meant to distract us with shiny CGI creations and big explosions while it kills the industry that created such masterpieces as Lawrence of Arabia, Amadeus, East of Eden, and My Fair Lady.

4) Superman Returns (2006)
Everything bad about this movie-- and that's quite a long list-- boils down to one simple fact: Brandon Routh is in no way, shape, or form a suitable replacement for Christopher Reeve. Because there is none. As public as the film franchise's humiliation was at 1987's Superman IV: The Quest for Peace, it should have stopped then forever. While it still had the genius of Reeve at its epicenter. Overlong, mindless, too elaborate and too late.

3) Twilight (2008)
Whew, speaking of mindless. Stephenie Meyer is responsible for this horridly unwelcome pop culture cash cow. As if the books weren't bad enough, they had to be adapted into this cheap, colorless, spineless film series that somehow manages to interest millions upon millions of fans in the "plight" of a criminally underdeveloped character whose sole problem in life is, "I have love problems." There is no emotion in the acting, no intelligence in the plotting, nothing likeable in any of the characters, and that voice-over narration is probably the worst single cinematic misstep since.... I can't think of anything.

2) Titanic (1997)
Ah, Leo-- you've been very bad to us. Shame on you. And you, James Cameron-- I would have expected better of you, Mr. Aliens and The Abyss. The best part of this movie is Kathy Bates... have you any idea how much it pains me to say that? At the center is a laborious and predictable romance between a rich, engaged girl and a poor boy. The sinking of the Titanic is meant merely as a backdrop, but considering the cutting-edge nature of the effects used in the sequence, it's clearly the star of the show. This movie's enduring popularity is yet another insult to the industry.

As for that tie for #1... it's really too bad to sum up concisely. It'll have to have its own post. Tune in next time for a double bill so unspeakably bad, so painfully unlikeable, so gruesomely unentertaining, that it comes after Titanic on a list of bad movies.

The 3-Strip Process: Changing People's Idiotic Ways

At the beginning of the twentieth century, there was no such thing as color in cinematic films. The miracle of moving images was somewhat muted by the fact that the images were grainy, stringy, and in black-and-white. But, of course, the real world is made up of many colors, not just black and white. Eventually, through innovation and ingenuity, film scientists were able to invent color processes that turned films more realistic and visually complex than they could ever be before. The most lavish and well-maintained style of color-- used on such widely appreciated classics as The Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, and more-- was a three-strip process that coalesced reds, yellows, and blues into the full color spectrum. It provided bright, vivid colors.

What is the point of this, you may ask?

Well, while Hollywood keeps pushing forward with visual innovation (mostly to naught, but they do keep trying), the rest of the world seems to be stuck in black and white.

I'm referring primarily, of course, to the dramatic events in the Middle East in recent weeks-- mainly the continued enforcement of Israel's naval blockade of Gaza... and the recent destruction of a ship allegedly transporting aid into the devastated territory.

People are so quick to jump to one side or the other. On the one hand, people blindly insist we should sternly condemn Israel for destroying what may have been a strictly peaceful mission. Equally alarmingly, on the other hand, people just as blindly say that Israel is our ally and we should stick by them no matter what.

Both of these mindsets show a bigger mentality of either skimming headlines to glean news or of stubbornly dividing the world into black and white, right and wrong, enemy and friend. Neither of these mentalities are correct. Complex news articles cannot be summed up in a single phrase; and since when are right and wrong absolutes? Shouldn't we be required to apply critical thinking to each specific situation?

Here's what I've discovered about the most recent flare-up in the sizzling Israeli/Palestinian conflict: nothing conclusive. I automatically discount the extreme-right-or-left news outlets. My primary information comes from two local newspapers. These, naturally, say different things every day. Then, of course, I also discount the pundits-- especially, once more, the extremists-- both on the Charles Krauthammer and Eugene Robinson sides of the spectrum. Their job is not to report; it is to state their opinions. Opinions, as is commonly known, are not facts. This seems to leave, aside from the World News sections of the papers, internet research. And guess what happens there? Find one item in favor of one side, and immediately you'll find another that favors the other.

This has gone on for some time.

What remains is for me to say this. I do not condone any sort of violence. War is reprehensible to the utmost. Were it significantly less bloody, it would be childish to the extreme. But we are a race of angry children, feuding over a sandbox we don't actually own. And I know this. To all the people-- that includes you, Helen Thomas!-- who say there's only room for one race in Palestine, read closely.

Thousands of years ago, before the foundation of the Muslim religion, both Arabs and Hebrews lived in Palestine. It was where the Hebrews lived before they were sold into slavery in Egypt. It was where they went when they obtained their freedom. But what's important to remember is that it is holy territory to three different faiths-- faiths that really aren't so different except by labels and minutiae. This is going to cause conflict. It's inevitable. But there is no answer to the question, "Which single group belongs in Palestine?" It's not up to us. As kids, we're told to get along and play nicely. Let's have a little grown-up behavior, shall we?

Until I know for sure Israel was in the wrong, I won't condemn them. Until I know for sure that Hamas wasn't running guns into Gaza, I won't say they did.

And until the situation in Gaza-- the debris and squalor and suffering-- is rectified, I'll stubbornly call, against all odds and all hope, for a little adult behavior and some three-strip dignity.