Isn’t this tie the greatest? She sure can pick ’em! I like to think of it as a bold, metallic blue.
Or maybe cerulean blue, like a gentle breeze. (Actually, it isn’t, but I can’t resist an obscure “The X-Files” reference.)
And it has the truly unpredictable effect of enhancing my impression of Robert De Niro in “The Untouchables!” (See the photos below; I am the one on the right.)
I had fun with “Guardians of the Galaxy” (2014). I’d rate it an 8 out of 10, if a little grudgingly. For me, it started quite strong with its introduction of Chris Pratt’s roguish space antihero; I actually had no idea he could be this funny. (I’ve only seen him once before, weighed down by the failed comedic scripting of 2015’s “Jurassic World.”)
I’m sorry to say that my interest in “Guardians of the Galaxy” waned just a bit as it subsequently unfolded as a cartoonish, relatively tame, family-friendly adventure — complete with a heartwarming value-of-friendship lesson. That’s fine, I guess — it’s cool and it makes sense that the Marvel Cinematic Universe should offer films more appropriate for younger viewers. Can you imagine, however, how hilarious this movie would be if it truly deserved its (befuddling) PG-13 rating, and really pressed the envelope? Between Pratt’s wit and these offbeat character concepts, it would be amazing.
I still had fun with this, though, thanks mainly to the action and the impressive special effects. I’d recommend it, and I’m planning on seeing the sequel.
Postscript — people are saying that this is the MCU’s answer to “Star Wars,” and I suppose it could be. But I had a lot more fun thinking that the movie was channeling Harry Harrison’s priceless science fiction book series featuring criminal-antiheroes — the “Stainless Steel Rat” adventures.
The poem’s actual title is “A Visit From St. Nicholas,” but the above is the title by which many of us remember it.
I hope that you and yours enjoy a wonderful Christmas Eve tonight. Just make sure you are fast asleep when St. Nick arrives. (He can always tell!)
*****
“A Visit from St. Nicholas”
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
The perennial half-joking debate about whether “Die Hard” (1988) is a Christmas movie will be with us for a long time, I guess. Yes, it is a Christmas movie — not only does it take place on Christmas Eve, the holiday helps set up the plot. (Our protagonists are at the besieged Nakatomi Tower for a Christmas party.) It just happens to be an ironic Christmas movie, that’s all.
And if we’re on the subject of ironic Christmas movies, I have to recommend “A Midnight Clear” (1992). It’s one of those films that doesn’t deserve its obscurity. It’s absolutely exceptional and poetic, which makes it maddening to me that a lot of people haven’t even heard of it.
I won’t describe it at length, because it’s one of those movies where “the less you know, the more you’ll enjoy it.” (Even its central plot development is meant to be unexpected.) I’ve never seen the trailer for this, but I can only imagine that it fails to avoid at least some spoilers.
Suffice to say that “A Midnight Clear” is a truly great film — one I would rate a perfect 10. It’s perfect. It just might make you look at war differently.
It’s a collection of contradictions, too. It’s a war movie with an (arguably) pacifist message, and a “Christmas movie” that is absolutely mournful. (I am not actually suggesting that anyone watch it to feel festive.) It’s also a World War II movie made in the 90’s, but it feels as though it’s channeling the sadness and existential loss of the post-Vietnam 1970’s.
Again, if you choose to watch it, learn as little as possible about it beforehand. And be aware that it’s probably sadder than you think. Let me know what you think about it, too. I’m curious about how other people feel about it.
Scratch one thing off the bucket list — I finally got around to watching Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rebecca.” (A cinephilic uncle introduced me to a handful of the director’s better known classics when I was an adolescent — “Rebecca” was one that we never got around to.) Based on my own enjoyment of it, I’d rate this film an 8 out of 10.
Please bear in mind that this is one of the slower Hitchcock films. Until its plot accelerates toward its end, it spends much of its running length as a methodically paced, brooding Gothic romance and mystery. It’s also a psychological thriller, and you can tell that Hitchcock is working to translate onto the screen its character-focused source novel. (I haven’t read Daphne du Maurier’s eponymous 1938 book.)
“Rebecca’s” final act brings the viewer into familiar Hitchcock territory with some interesting surprises. What I liked best about seeing the director’s style, however, was his trademark sharp characters and dialogue — with both heroes and villains sparring in a dry-witted and rapid-fire fashion. It’s something you don’t often see today. I don’t think all old movies are like this — some of the “classics” I’ve been recommended are absolutely vapid. But Hitchcock treated his viewer as intelligent adults, and I think it’s part of the reason why people love him.
Yes, I do realize that only an approval-seeking pedant will broadcast the fact that he found an error in a newspaper headline. At least I’ve got that self-awareness thing going for me. And I make plenty of my own mistakes right here on this blog. Somebody called me on the unforgivable *your/you’re confusion just last week.
Hey, I spent a couple of years on the other side of the desk where this kind of nitpicking is concerned. When I was a reporter, there were people who positively loved to call us when they spotted a mistake.
If you’re ever inclined to do that yourself, then please bear two things in mind:
Here’s another happy Christmas memory — the Find Your Fate Adventure books featuring Indiana Jones. I was happy indeed when Santa brought these. They were first published by Ballantine Books in 1984 and 1985, and they were basically Choose Your Own Adventure books in which you teamed up with Indy in the same type of archeological adventure you saw in the movies or in his comic book series.
Like most series of this type, they were penned by different authors and tended to vary in quality. The second book, “Indiana Jones and the Lost Treasure of Sheba,” was authored by Rose Estes, who wrote some terrific title in the Endless Quest series, TSR’s own excellent take on the format in the Dungeons & Dragons genre. There also were several written by R.L. Stine, they were reprinted in the 90’s following his popularity with his Goosebumps series.
I had the first four that you see below. I seem to remember one being kinda bad, but I’m not sure I remember which. It might have been Andrew Helfer’s “Indiana Jones and the Cup of the Vampire.” (It was whichever book portrayed the reader as Indiana Jones’ cousin, who he repeatedly addressed as “Cuz.”) The other books were damned great fun, though. I do remember Estes’ “Lost Treasure of Sheba” being quite good.
I never owned the fifth book you see below, and never read it. I can’t resist including it here, though, simply because of its title — “Indiana Jones and the Ape Slaves of Howling Island.” If that isn’t the most interesting title in the history of western literature, I don’t know what is. I’m 45 years old, and I would snap that up right off the bookstore shelf if I saw it. Somebody should have gotten a raise for that one.
(Specifically my complaint that the near-godlike “Force” powers employed are neither supported by the script nor precedented in the prior films.)
The Force is the Force, of course of of course,
And no one can limit the Force, of course,
Unless, of course, they use the Force
As a shameless deus ex machina!!!
[sung to the tune of “Mister Ed”]
I’ll never be able to love “Star Wars” the way its lifelong fans do. After the unexpected magic of the first three films, the subsequent movies almost always seemed to me to be just space fantasies for kids, formulaically developed to hit all the right notes and sell licensed merchandise. (The exception would be last year’s generally excellent “Star Wars: Rogue One,” which uniquely felt like a genuine, human story that a creator wanted to tell, rather than something brainstormed until consensus in a corporate writers’ room.) With that said, I’ll happily report here that “Star Wars: The Last Jedi” was actually very good — as someone with little favorable bias toward the franchise, I’d rate it an 8 out of 10.
The movie simply got more right than it got wrong. It’s still a marketing-oriented space opera developed for mass appeal, but it managed to rise above that because its many elements included more hits than misses.
If I had to pick one thing that made this movie succeed for me, it’s the balance it struck between its epic war story and its narrower sword-and-sorcery central plot thread. I like how the film began with an interstellar war — it had ordinary, mortal, relatable human characters fight and make sacrifices. Anyone can relate to characters like that because they are interchangeable with people fighting a war in our world. (It was also excellently rendered, in terms of fantastic visuals and some creative ideas.) Only afterward does the movie layer in the far-out Jedi stuff, which contrasts the war story and adds complexity to it.
The second thing I liked about it was its terrific special effects — I’ve never seen a “Star Wars” movie without them, even if the prequels had a more cartoonish, toylike quality to what they depicted.
The third, I think, was the return of Mark Hamill’s Luke Skywalker. Hamill is actually quite a good actor, and his skilled turn here was alternately funny and dramatically convincing. I found myself more nostalgic after watching Luke’s return to the franchise than after Han Solo’s return in “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” (2015). (And I love Harrison Ford just as much as everyone else in the universe.)
Is there a lot to nitpick? Sure. In addition to some plot holes, the character of Rose was rather annoying. (Spunky young idealists can grate on the nerves if they’re too cutesy and seem to ingratiate themselves to the viewer.)
But a far larger weakness is that “the force” has become more of a deus ex machina than ever before. I can’t be specific here because I want to avoid spoilers, but both the Jedi and their Sith counterparts employ incredible new powers in the movie that are absolutely unprecedented. It isn’t explained at all, and it isn’t consistent with any prior “Star Wars” movie. And it feels like a cheat that is both sweeping and … a little strange.
Still, I’d recommend this movie — even if you didn’t love every “Star Wars” movie you’ve seen in the past.
I’ll end with a quick note about the “porgs” — those little penguinesque aliens that are supposedly dividing longtime fans into opposing war-camps. I loved the damn things. It makes perfect sense that Luke’s hideaway planet would have local fauna. And I read that the filmmakers actually did include them for an understandable reason. The island shooting location’s landscape was inhabited by puffins. It made more sense to overwrite them with CGI stand-ins than to digitally remove them altogether.
I know I’m addressing here what’s already appeared all over the news, but here are the seven words that the Trump administration has allegedly banned from appearing in The Center for Disease Control’s budget documents. (In fairness to the administration, CDC Director Brenda Fitzgerald tweeted Sunday to dispute those claims, which first appeared in The Washington Post. You can read about her response here.)
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 