Tag Archives: Eric Robert Nolan

A review of “Deliver Us From Evil” (2014)

“Deliver Us From Evil” (2014) pleasantly surprised me by being a pretty decent horror movie; I’d give it an 8 out of 10.

I expected a predictable melodrama between its two primary protagonists — the hardened, intractably “close-minded” cop and the wise young priest.  This, I thought, would upstage a thin, generic, supernatural backstory.

Well … there was some of that expected character interaction, but I admit that it was done pretty well.  And the old fashioned scares served up here make this an above average horror movie.

I say “old fashioned” because this seemed to channel the demonic possession classics that defined this horror movie sub-genre, for me, anyway — “The Exorcist” (1973) and “The Exorcist III” (1990).  It has an expansive story that begins in a nicely surprising battle scene in Iraq, then shifts its focus to several chilling violent crimes in New York City.  Then it effectively blends a horror story with a police thriller.  And the story is detailed, with some thought put into the demon’s modus operandi and choice of victims, as well as the their investigation by streetwise New York City cops.  A straight horror-thriller like this is a nice contrast to recent well made supernatural horror films like last year’s “The Babadook” or “It Follows,” which were ambiguous and heavily thematic, personal stories with virtually no exposition.

Eric Bana and Edgar Ramirez were both terrific; even they might have been upstaged by Joel McHale in a supporting role as Bana’s foul mouthed but loyal anti-hero partner. I was rooting for him more than the thinly drawn hero scripted for Bana. (Can any NYC cops really wield a knife like that?  If so, that’s totally badass.)  McHale is damn good — I’ll be looking for him in his regular role in the upcoming revival of “The X Files.”  If you were an NYC cop, wouldn’t you want a partner like that?  Seriously … that dude is BADASS.

Regrettably, this movie’s thought and creativity do seem to lose steam toward the end.  Certain scares and images were done wonderfully.  The scenes inside the asylum were great, for example, especially one shot that made me think of the Batman mythos’ Arkham Asylum.  Others fell flat.  Our Big Bad, when finally revealed in full, is just a generic ugly dude in drab whiteface.  And a sequence involving a piano is shot with little visual flair.

The most frightening subplot of all involves a troubled girl in her bedroom; it’s cut short and rendered irrelevant in order to move the plot forward.  And the finale features an exorcism that recycles mostly old tropes from the sub-genre.

Hey … this was still a good movie, though.  It certainly was better than I thought it would be.  I’d cheerfully recommend it.

Oh!  One more thing — this is supposedly based on a true story.  Scott Derrickson’s interesting screenplay derives from the 2001 book, “Beware The Night,” by retired NYC police officer Ralph Sarchie (Bana’s character).  I wonder what evidence anyone has gathered to either support or debunk the story here.

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That wicked cool moment when “The Gunslinger” reminds you of W. H. Auden.

The following is from Auden’s “The Third Temptation,” part of “The Quest.”

He watched with all his organs of concern
How princes walk, what wives and children say,
Re-opened old graves in his heart to learn
What laws the dead had died to disobey,

And came reluctantly to his conclusion:
“All the arm-chair philosophies are false;
To love another adds to the confusion;
The song of mercy is the Devil’s Waltz.”

And the quote below is from Stephen King’s “The Gunslinger.”

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“The Quest” actually contains a bunch of key images reminiscent of King’s series.  We can easily conclude that these are coincidental, as they serve different thematic purposes.  But it’s still fun to spot the common images.

You can find the entirety of “The Quest” right here:

http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/wh-auden/the-quest-5/

Visit the Bill of Rights Institute.

Blog correspondent Len Ornstein can always be relied upon for an understanding of constitutional principles, as well as a little historical context for a lot of the debates we see in the headlines and in our Facebook feeds.

He’s advised me more than once to peruse the website of the Bill of Rights Institute.  I’m glad he did. It’s an outstanding resource for all things constitutional — divided into online and downloadable resources for students and teachers.  To me, it seems like a great educational resource for anybody, though — not just those in a school setting.  If nothing else, it will inform your position the next time you are arguing with that darn liberal or that darn conservative.

Visit the Bill of Rights Institute right here:

http://www.billofrightsinstitute.org/

As of today, this blog has 100 followers!!!

Yeah, okay, that pales in comparison to my friends who have 400 or more.  But I feel like David Koresh!  Except … nonviolent.  And nonreligious.  And I’m only a BORDERLINE sociopath instead of the full shebang.  Whenever I feel my worse half coming on, I warn those near me with the Taco Bell slogan, lest they be affected when I MAKE A RUN FOR THE BORDER.

Seriously, though, THANKS for reading, guys!  Given that at least 100 people are now “following,” I feel like I should express some sort of coherent ideology here, instead of just horror movie reviews, tips on which comics to read, and my own misguided attempts at portraying myself as among the literati.

So I have resolved to produce a manifesto.  Don’t hold your breath; it might take a while.  But I’ll write it and place it here.  I promise.

“As I Walked Out One Evening,” by W. H. Auden

I posted a new poem of mine a little while ago; this is the poem that it makes reference to — W. H. Auden’s “As I Walked Out One Evening.”

This was the first of Auden’s poems that I’d ever read, maybe 25 years ago.  I believe it is his most popular.

“As I Walked Out One Evening,” by W. H. Auden

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
“Love has no ending.

“I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you
Till China and Africa meet
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street.

“I’ll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

“The years shall run like rabbits
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages
And the first love of the world.”

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
“O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

“In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

“In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

“Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver’s brilliant bow.

“O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you’ve missed.

“The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

“Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer
And Jill goes down on her back.

“O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

“O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.”

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming
And the deep river ran on.

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“All Our Faults Are Fallen Leaves,” by Eric Robert Nolan

You guys know I struggle with writing “happy poems.”  When I sat down to write this, I intended it as a kind of “Happy Autumn” poem to all my friends.

I wound up using the fires of Hell as its central motif.  Oh well.  It actually does have a positive message.  Really!  Give it a glance!  So, Happy Autumn, guys!!  And … y’know … go to hell?

“All Our Faults Are Fallen Leaves”

Again an annual angled auburn hand
announces advancing Autumn —
fingers aflame, the first Fallen leaf,
As slow in its descent, and as red,
as flailing Lucifer.

Hell in our sylvan vision
begins with a single spark.
The sting of the prior winter
subsided in July,
eroded at August.
Now, as at every September,
let new and cooler winds
fan a temperate flame.

May this nascent season only
bring brick-tinted perdition
and carmine Abaddon.
Where flames should burn, may there be
only rose tones on wide wine canvasses,
tormentless florid scarlets,
griefs eased in garnet trees.

What I hold in my heart to be true
is Edict at every Autumn:
Magentas may not make
forgetful a distracted God,
unless we ourselves forget
or burn to overlook.

Auden told us “One Evening”
to “Stand, stand at the window,”
and that we would love our neighbor,
but he didn’t counsel at all
about how we should smolder there.

Outside my window, and yours,
if the Conflagration itself
acquits us all by claiming only
the trees upon the hill,
the Commonwealth a hearth,
Virginia an Inferno,

Then you and I
should burn in our hearts to absolve
ourselves and one another,
standing before the glass,
our curtains catching,
our beds combusting,
our bureaus each a pyre.
Take my hand, my friend, and smile,
there on the scorching floor,
beneath the searing ceiling and
beside the blackening mirror
that troubles us no longer,
for, about it, Auden was wrong.
God’s wrathful eye
will find you and I
incandescent.  The damned
are yet consigned to kindness.
All our faults are Fallen leaves.
Forgive where God will not.

Out of our purgatory
of injury’s daily indifference,
let our Lake of Fire
be but blush squadrons of oaks,
cerise seas of cedar, fed
running ruby by sycamore rivers,
their shores reassured
by calm copper sequoias,
all their banks ablaze
in yellowing eucalyptus.

Let the demons we hold
harden into bark
holding up Inferno.
All their hands are branches now;
all their palms are burning.

There, then, softly burning, you and I,
may our Autumn find
judgmentless russets,
vermilion for our sins,
dahlia forgiveness,
a red for every error,
every man a love,
every love infernal,
and friends where devils would reign.

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2015

— Author’s note: the poem to which I’ve responded above, with its images of standing at the window and the mirror, is W. H. Auden’s “As I Walked Out One Evening.”

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Photo credit:  “Orange in Middletown,” by AgnosticPreachersKid (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

AND CHEESEBURGERS on sandwich bread.

But I had New York Irish parents who worked their asses off to make me dinner every night, give me lots of other stuff (including a big yard with a fort and two imbecile dogs), and then pay for most of my college education.  Not too shabby for a couple of kids from Queens.  I had it a hell of a lot better than a lot of kids I see on the news today.

The only “struggle” we endured was when one particularly dark soul gave my mom “The Casserole Cookbook” one Christmas, and our fare, for a while, took a turn to the Lovecraftian.  But that didn’t last.

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“But should you fail to keep your kingdom …”

But should you fail to keep your kingdom
And, like your father before you, come
Where thought accuses and feeling mocks,
Believe your pain; praise the scorching rocks
For their desiccation of your lust,
Thank the bitter treatment of the tide
For its dissolution of your pride,
That the whirlwind may arrange your will
And the deluge release it to find
The spring in the desert, the fruitful
Island in the sea, where flesh and mind
Are delivered from mistrust.

—  from “Alonso to Ferdinand,” in W. H. Auden’s “The Sea and the Mirror”

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Damn fine product.

I does loves me some Jansport.

Amazon.com has OUTSTANDING customer service.   No, believe it or not, I am actually not being sarcastic here … Amazon.com really does have outstanding customer service.  If you ever have a problem, call them and ask for the very helpful “Mike A.,” and then leave positive feedback on the automated service, because his my homeboy.

One word of caution … if you ever buy a backpack online, be sure to READ its measurements, then make sure your desired cargo will fit.  The vendors employ extremely small-boned men to model for these online listings, so every backpack looks huge.

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Tonight we sleep peacefully thanks to the ardor of the brave.

If you are reading this now, then you are likely to head to bed soon for the night, safely.

If you are like many today, then you might have said a prayer, or a few words of thanks, for the soldiers, the police, the firemen, and the emergency professionals who have made such safety possible.

You and I will retire to sleep tonight without event.  We will awaken in a free state tomorrow.  These are rarer things than we often realize, in a frequently ugly world, where despots threaten and madmen make red pageantry in our skylines and in our saddest inner moments.  But tonight we sleep peacefully thanks to the ardor of the brave.

Indeed, we WILL never forget.

To all of the especially good men and women whose job it is to keep us safe, often at the highest risk to themselves:

Good luck, Godspeed, and thank you for your service.

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