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.

You Know What Would Be Amazing?

If hypocrisy would just die and never return to life.

From obnoxious neighbors who crank up their music to "Ramones" level (watch Rock and Roll High School-- it's terrific!) and then insist that the complainants are actually the ones making noise, to bigoted anti-gay activists hiring male prostitutes and claiming they did it for rehabilitation (I mean, please, how very Nights of Cabiria), it's clear, however, that hypocrisy is alive and well.

I know it's an older story, but when I first heard about it a week ago, I thought it was best to let it fade. But a week later, we're still hearing about George Rekers, and, quite frankly, it bears constant reminding.

Why is Rekers so intent on making life miserable for people who, apparently, have more guts than he could ever hope? He helped found the Family Research Council, and it is because of people like him, the intellectual equivalent of Anita Bryant, that American civil rights are decades behind where they should be. But, in many ways, Anita Bryant was better than Rekers because Bryant didn't pretend to be anything she wasn't. (Well, knowingly, anyway. She pretended to be loving rather than hateful.) For all the talk there is about gay people wanting to destroy the kingdom of God and recruit children to their sinful ways, it is, in fact, just the opposite. God's kingdom is, from my humble understanding of faith, a kingdom of love for everyone. Men and women telling people they're evil and will go to Hell for it must be just as evil. Didn't Jesus say something about casting stones?

And, by the way, a note on the section of the Bible that most adamantly proclaims that man lying with man is sinful. It comes from Leviticus-- read it if you have doubts-- which is the book that also declares the eating of some animals-- including pigs and shellfish-- to be abomination. It's also the book that dictates the regulations for animal sacrifice. Hey, bigots-- when was the last time you morally refused to eat shrimp? Or when you slaughtered a lamb to the glory of God?

Return "Letters to Juliet" to Sender: Remembering a Forgotten Classic

Another victory this week for the Nicholas Sparksian refuse that seems to be getting more and more popular with movie audiences every year: the release of Letters to Juliet, which, from what I've seen and read, is just another overly sentimental dung heap casting a trendy actress (in this case, Amanda Seyfried, from Jennifer's Body-- I hesitate to use that seven-letter "a" word) in some sort of gorgeous foreign locale with a new reworking of the same plot we've seen zillions and zillions of times before.

One definite pro about the film: it casts, as an older couple longing to be reunited, the great Vanessa Redgrave and the... well, Franco Nero. For those of you who have no exposure to the classics, Redgrave and Nero, 43 years ago, starred in a movie about love and longing that was actually good, but one which was eviscerated by critics and passed over by the paying audience.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, I transport you to the year 1967 for your cultural edification. Today's lesson is about Camelot.

Seven years prior, Frederick Loewe and Alan Jay Lerner (My Fair Lady, Brigadoon) had yet another success on Broadway with a quirky re-working of the Arthurian legend, primarily dealing with the Arthur/Guenevere/Lancelot love triangle. While critics weren't thoroughly pleased with it (criticizing mainly the book while lauding the songs), it was quite popular and gave Richard Burton his first and only musical stage role (as King Arthur), and the last for Julie Andrews (Guenevere) before she became a movie star.

So when The Sound of Music was released in 1965, becoming the most successful film up to its time, every studio in Hollywood began looking for a musical of equal scope and depth to surpass its popularity. That includes Warner Brothers, whose notoriously gruff chieftain, Jack Warner, had recently had a huge success of his own with the film version of Lerner and Loewe's My Fair Lady. Believing the songwriting duo had what it took to keep audiences happy, he bet an obscene amount of money on a spectacular adaptation of their Camelot with a revamped script and a more memorable rendition of the score.

Unfortunately for the studio, the public wasn't too impressed with their casting decisions, among other things. Not one face from the original Broadway cast returned. Richard Harris (who later in his life would originate the role of Dumbledore in the Harry Potter films) played the King, Vanessa Redgrave, already an accomplished and beautiful British star, was Guenevere, and relative newcomer Franco Nero (who couldn't sing) was Lancelot.

Nor was the audience happy with the songs that got the axe-- admittedly extraneous but beloved songs like "Before I Gaze at You Again," "Fie on Goodness," and Mordred's only solo, "The Seven Deadly Virtues." Critics harped on the superficial excesses of the film-- the extravagant costumes, the apparently tacky-looking sets, and even, in some cases, the makeup-- then turned around and calling it empty spectacle. Pretty big irony coming from people who never looked past the surface.

And so, like King Arthur himself, Camelot faded into vanished memory, an expensive but unpopular venture. Jack Warner left the studio he helped build, and the only other notable film he ever produced was 1776.

But after the movie musical genre went kaput, there grew in number the legions of wistful fans longing for a return to the dignity and intelligence they represented. Now, dignity and intelligence Camelot has to spare. Harris and Redgrave are incredible in their roles, and Gene Merlino does an excellent job singing for Nero. Lionel Jeffries is hilarious as the goofy Pellinore and Laurence Naismith a fascinating, but scarce, Merlyn. The instrumental sections of the music-- handled by the legendary Alfred Newman-- sound ten times better than those from the stage show. And without the movie, the song "If Ever I Would Leave You" would have died soon after the sixties passed.

My point is, it's incredible that Redgrave and Nero (who are now, apparently, married-- take that, critics who said they had no chemistry on screen) are on the big screen together again. But in a world that already includes this forgotten masterpiece (or near-masterpiece, anyway), why would they stoop so low?

I weep for the future of film... but its past is alive and well as long as we think about movies like this.

Is Elena Kagan A Lesbian?

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...





Does it matter?!

In Case You Didn't Know About This....

Earlier this week I received a reaffirmation of what makes life on this planet we've fouled up worth living.

In case you haven't heard of Erik Martin, allow me to give you a brief summary of his story. Erik Martin is a young and terminally ill boy. But thanks to the Make a Wish Foundation-- who, let's face it, are pretty much the most incredible charity on the face of the Earth-- he's more than that. He is a superhero.

Yes, meet Electron Boy, the daring defender of the depressed. You see, Erik Made a Wish. His Wish was to be a superhero. The Foundation, being amazing like that, decided to grant it. Not only that, they found the most unspeakably awesome way to make this happen! Erik became Electron Boy-- costume and all-- and set out on a trek across Seattle to put evil in its place. With the help of local actors and companies, the narrative played out like the best comic book movie ever made. He got to go around solving mysteries created by his evil archnemesis with the help of his sidekick, Lightning Lad. He got to meet Spider-Man and he got a key to the city. Ah, yes-- remember when the whole "key to the city" thing was a tacky cliche in such movies as Spider-Man 3, Superman III, and Rocky III? This young man actually deserved one.

Of course, this story has been zooming around the Web faster than [insert tacky, overused comic-book analogy of your choice], but I think it bears repetition because the story amazes and inspires me. I'll never forget the bravery of the boy behind Electron Boy's mask, nor those who helped his wish come true.

Even with such atrocities going on in the outside world as war, famine, and all the other evils we've come to deplore, one miracle of human kindness like this and life suddenly seems worth it all.

It's the Big Piece of Garbage All Over Again

Sometimes I think Futurama can't come back to television quickly enough.

Oh, not because I miss it on a purely entertainment level (although I really do!) but because its bold social commentary is needed now more than ever. And, let's face it, no one pays any attention to a dead TV show. Unless your name is William Shatner.

I was astounded but none too surprised to learn of the great gushing oil slick blighting the Gulf Coast. But what's even more astounding is that the thinkers have created quite a few proposals for stopping it, but when it comes to implementing them, they are waiting for.... For what? Embossed invitations? Stone tablets? A creepy drunken robot speaking from the future through a rip in the space-time continuum?

While I agree that taking an action without regard for its consequences is reeeeeeally pretty stupid, I happen to know for a fact that the consequences of this spill are having a cataclysmic impact on a very fragile ecosystem. We all know that news is slow to come, so perhaps even as I write this a plan has been put into action. But considering the age and unfathomable (believe me, no pun intended) size of this disaster, I'd say it's long overdue. Get it through your heads, people. Things happen very fast. If said things are bad-- or, dare I say, calamitous-- amplify that speed estimate by a factor of about fifty. Amplify, and then fix! When the smoke (or, in this case, oil) has cleared, then take the blame for your mistakes. But prepare for that, too. No one is right about everything 100% of the time, and what makes a person intelligent, to some extent, is the willingness to bear responsibility.

The Unbearable Awesomeness of Being... Jon Stewart

This is just a quick little tidbit to remind us why everyone in the nation should watch The Daily Show on a regular basis.

Last week, Jon Stewart was "rebuked" (as though!) by Fox News for calling them out on obvious hypocrisy. Stewart responded by hiring a gospel choir to suggest, in song, what the hypocrites at Fox News could go do to themselves. In no uncertain terms. Later that week, the gospel choir and their 33%-bleeped three-word song made a reprise on the show, this time directed at people who threaten death over jokes on TV shows, death threats powered by religion. The songs included Stewart doing some of the lamest, and therefore most amazing, dancing ever done by a comedian on national television.

There was one other thing about them, too... what was it? Oh, yeah. They were completely and totally true!!

Stewart has a tempestuous relationship with Fox News because, like every public media outlet/individual in America (and often the world), he calls them out when they do something stupid, hypocritical, blatantly shortsighted, or obnoxious. This is not Stewart being "offensive," for crying out loud! This is Stewart doing the job the (non-comical) media is supposed to do: acting as a watchdog over the government. Unfortunately, the "real" news in this country has somehow received the mistaken memo that their job is to inform the public of Tiger Woods' adultery and to give little anecdotes about huge stories that don't mean anything and don't tell anyone a flip. Yes, I read the newspapers. But what use is a newspaper when its reporters don't report anything I actually need to know? Or, often, can even understand beneath all the layers of meaningless rhetoric and anecdotal statistics?

True, Stewart's humor is often puerile. He did a five-minute-plus riff on Congressman Dick Sweat. But what separates Stewart from the tasteless, ridiculous shows that are puerile for the simple reason of being so (some of which, like Archer, are good; others, like Family Guy, simply nauseating) is this. Underneath all the bleeped language, funny voices, and genital jokes is what we're not getting from the news media.

News.

And a big shoutout to my friends on Brain Logging and Sponsored by Boredom.