Change Your Image
bayhorse
Reviews
Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970)
And the Madhouse Continues!--Part II
(A continuation from part one, of Planet of the Apes). . . Although life could very well exist on planets other than earth, in addition to the ironic twist to be found in this particular series of films, as further evidence in support of the theory that life self-generates, given only the proper conditions, and minus the need of any Creator; even this, in itself, would not necessarily prove, in the strictest conclusive sense, that God hadn't been the one to create it there, too, along with all the physical conditions necessary to support it. Yet, I still would not be the least bit astounded, if it turns out there's nothing alive out there, as well as somewhat surprised if the proof finally emerges that there is. God's Biblically-stated purpose for having created life on earth certainly renders no such possibility necessary, rather than even quite superfluous. . . . Moreover, if earth cannot be calculated, in any demonstrably intelligible way, to be the astronomical centre of the universe, which I'm certainly not stating to be necessarily the case; then it does at least appear that Jerusalem, the Eternal City, is the geographical centre of the earth's own land mass. Even more, the Bible clearly indicates that Jerusalem is, if nothing else, the theological centre of the universe (Revelation, Chapters 21-22). In this sense, even the medieval theologians would have had it right, despite the false and misleading interpretation they'd inherited from Aristotle's way of thinking; just as, to be sure, the Bible itself totally denies that the earth is flat (Isaiah 40:22). Either way, the earth is no ordinary planet, but the very one which is uniquely central to God's purpose. In fact, far from people "going to Heaven," other than the Lord Jesus Christ Himself (Ecclesiastes 3:18-22; 9:3-6) (Acts 2:29-36) (Hebrews 11:38-39) (Revelation 11:15-19); it is actually Heaven which is Biblically said to come down to earth (Matthew 6:10), but in stages. It is written that after Christ rules the entire world, from Jerusalem, with a Rod of Iron, for one-thousand years (Revelation 20:1-4), then God the Father moves His Throne down to earth as well, in the form of the New Jerusalem; as the "physical matter" itself is being burned up, and transfigured into the same spiritual substance of which Christ's own resurrected and imperishable body is composed. . . . One may ask, however, whether Enoch had gone to Heaven (Hebrews 11:5), even though this story necessarily demonstrates nothing more than that Enoch could have been snatched away from an otherwise certain death, at the hands of those he describes, also, in Jude 14-15; just as there is even evidence (II Chronicles 21:12-15) to support the contention that Elijah, far from having "gone to Heaven," was simply transported, like unto Philip (Acts 8:39-40), to another place on the earth; but, unlike with Philip, to a place from where no man could ever find him again. Similarly, the allegorical reference, in Revelation 12:14-17, concerning those who shall be Divinely protected, on the wings of a "great eagle," is undoubtedly another instance of the same kind of "translation," from one place, to another, right upon this earth; just as the common belief, that these 144,000 shall be preaching the Gospel, is compellingly overruled, in Revelation 14:6-9. And what would be the purpose of having made man unequivocally mortal in this sense, save for a resurrection from the dead (Job 19:23-27); so that, in effect, what Jesus said about, for instance, Lazarus having been asleep (John 11:11), would be literally true, while verses such as Revelation 14:9-11 are actually the more allegorical references? The point is that man would have been made mortal, as an act of mercy, to those who reject Him; unlike Satan and the other fallen spirit-beings, who are tormented everlastingly (Revelation 20:10). . . . Of course, the indication, in this verse, is that the beast and false prophet are everlastingly tormented as well; but, as with other "hard to understand" verses (II Peter 3:15-16), this could amount to nothing more than an ambiguity of language, particularly in the English. Either way, it is necessarily the case that, if the Bible is Divinely-Inspired, and thus consistently coherent in its claims, the factor of allegory, in one direction or the other, cannot be avoided. It could even be that the plural reference, as to those who everlastingly suffer, in Revelation 20:10, is to the multitudes of fallen spirit beings, while the mention of the beast and false prophet being there as well is more in the nature of a parenthetical insertion. What also seems compellingly apparent is that God perhaps intended for the actual meaning to remain unclear, as indicated, again, in the references from Ecclesiastes, above; just as, for that matter, the reference, again, to Revelation 14:11, where it is said that the smoke of the torment, of those who worshipped the beast, shall ascend, forever and ever, is something about which to "literally" ponder. I Peter 3:18-22 is perhaps the most notorious of all such "hard sayings," although it necessarily means no more than that the same Christ, who was literally, unequivocally dead, for three days and three nights, in the heart of the earth, had formerly preached, to the spirits in prison (the bondage of their sin, while they yet "lived"), through His Divine Spirit in Noah. What is totally clear, however, can be found, either way, in Deuteronomy 29:29, along with Ecclesiastes 12:12-14, which is all any of us indispensably need to know; along with, say, Matthew 16:13-17 (the only real way to know, although many pretend, I John 3:10-18, especially to themselves), and Romans 8:1-18, as well as I Corinthians 15:1-21. (Part three, in Battle for the Planet of the Apes)
Planet of the Apes (1968)
Is Man Still an Ape?--Or Rather Yet to Become One? Either Way, It's--A Madhouse!--A Madhouse!
Many insolently skeptical apes, with their religion of biological evolution, and, thus, by extension, anti-social Darwinism, too, might still be cynically, insultingly sneering that they need to see a "miracle," before they'll ever agree to capitulate, and acknowledge the authority of the Lord; in the only real way there is to verify it, through the most rationally sound and morally sober kind of insight, which leaves even them with fundamentally no excuse, particularly if their only real intent is to violate the Golden Rule without ever expecting to have to answer for it. However, by the time their "miracle" arrives, which it inevitably shall, and shortly, by now, in this world; they "might" just wish it hadn't, as those who insist upon tempting the Lord, and taking it so mockingly, belittlingly, scornfully out, even on the flesh of His servants. Gene Kelly, as E.K. Hornbeck, was so right, from Inherit the Wind, when he said, to Spencer Tracy, as Henry Drummond, "Face it, Darwin was wrong, man's still an ape!" But, then, who knows?For, if Charlton Heston is right, it may be a bit more loosely accurate to say he's not quite an apeyet! I could seriously entertain this view a bit more plausibly, were it not for the fact that the words are always just about to come out of my mouth: "Get even your eyes, indeed, even your very 'thoughts,' off me, you filthy ape!" In other words, I feel I'm already here, as I continue screaming, at least internally, that "It's a Madhouse!A Madhouse!" . . . Seriously, though, is there really any solidly scientific proof that any species transforms into another, rather than their being as separate as the Bible says they were originally created to be (Genesis 1:24-25)? I'm not referring to just evidence, either, with its yet insufficient support of such a possible conclusion. Even God is good at helping provide such misleading "evidence," for the sake of those who insist upon it, even with anything, at bottom, but the most "neutrally scientific" of motives (Isaiah 28:9-13) (Matthew 13:10-17); when He likewise helps it to be "arguable," for instance, that even Genesis 1:20-22 supports the notion that all life began in the sea, although never-mind the birds. Moreover, there's no doubt even the way many animals are structured would seem to indicate that, comparatively speaking, either it had to have happened the evolutionary way, or else God designed it deliberately to look as if it did. The atheist will sneer that he doesn't like it, that such would be a stupid idea, of any such "incompetently bungling" God. Yet, while the real God is about as fundamentally lovable, and animated by a sense of humor, as George Burns; He can also be as "difficult," when irreverently taunted and mocked into provocation (Romans 1:17-32) (Hebrews 11:6), as Jose Perez, in the Steambath; and, in the words of this enigmatic "Attendant," just as "whimsically," harrowingly unpredictable! If one doesn't like it, that's just tough luck, pal; especially if he truly insists, again, upon getting too inordinately insolent about it! . . . And where's their supposed proof, by the way, that life even spontaneously generates, from dead matter, whatever that is (Hebrews 12:25-28) (II Peter 3:10-12), if only the conditions are right? Indeed, even modern science cannot find any "solid stuff" called "matter," which is "apparently" created from nothing. Even Job was smarter than most such contemporary "educators," although he had no answer, when God reminded him that he simply hadn't been there, at the Creation; and that even he wasn't nearly as smart as he thought he was (Job, Chapters 38-41), let-alone his "Christianly comforting friends," despite even their most characteristically, perennially eloquent sermons, to this very day (Job 42:7-9), along with their basically Darwinian instincts against Job! The skeptics also emphasize statistical probabilities, and the odds against earth being the only place which contains life. But, again, it has first to be proved, short of actually discovering any extraterrestrial life, that it does, in fact, self-generate, merely given the right physical conditions. . . . And, let's be honest, for that's at least one basic reason why the skeptics really want to find life out therenot just because the prospect is so "neutrally fascinating." They feel, at least instinctively, that such a discovery will also help shatter the Biblically "primitive myth." They don't want God to exist, and just the fact that one can no less instinctively smell as much, despite all their "pious" denials, even and especially to themselves, often enough, should be more than sufficient, all by itself, in confirming this fact, even though it's not the only evidence to support as much. Also, I'm really not trying to attack or ridicule them, the way they characteristically do to their opponents. I understand their pain! I personally experience every instinct in their bodies, unlike the kind of typically religious people who smell no less intolerantly and provocatively foul! For my part, however, it's not a question of what I wish to be true! To the contrary, the notion of everlasting sleep, beyond the grave, is hardly the most discomforting thought, and would be preferable, in one irreducibly ever-relieving sense, to even the possibility of going to a place of everlasting torment, let-alone one too "eternally blissful" to imagine! It's simply a question of what I do, in fact, believe to be objectively the case, along with my arguments in support of it, which are hardly being exhausted here! (Part two, in Beneath the Planet of the Apes)
The Graduate (1967)
A Pricelessly Symbolic Reflection of Its Era
This film, in form and style, too, is a uniquely gifted work of art; on a par with other, more wastefully "forgettable," so-called "grade B" masterpieces, such as Desire In the Dust (a must, for every Raymond Burr fan), and Hell on Frisco Bay (an equal must, for every Edward G. Robinson fan). The latter two had apparently been conceived, or, at least, might just as well have been, for the very purpose of showcasing the induplicably villainous talents of, again, Raymond Burr, as Colonel Ben Marquand, and Edward G. Robinson, as Victor Amato; whereas, quite obviously, Anne Bancroft herself stands out, to this selfsame end, as Mrs. Robinson, in The Graduate; along with a no less outstanding supporting cast, as is also the case with the other two thus far mentioned. While my own release from prison bears certain outwardly, superficially, and commonly misleading similarities with those of Dustin Hoffman alone, in addition to a strong personal identification with the nature of his internal struggle as well; it is, nevertheless, my sense of deeply temperamental empathy with Alan Ladd, from Hell on Frisco Bay, and with Ken Scott, from Desire In the Dust, which serves, about as overshadowingly, to set me just as apart from Hoffman, too. I'll even expand the analogies here, by referencing myself as a cross, between John Cassavetes, from Crime In the Streets, and, again, John Cassavetes, from Edge of the City; or, similarly, again, to Hoffman, too, but much more grimly, as a cross, between Farley Granger, from Edge of Doom, and Paul Anka, from Look In Any Window. . . . Despite my enormous head start, over Alan Ladd, in the sense that he'd begun, during mid-incarceration; his own extremely volatile level of intensity had been very equal to mine, on both counts, in my case, prior to his period of confinement. However, Ken Scott had required barely no time at all to catch up, on one of the two counts, subsequent to his release; just as, by now, he's the only one with whom I bear any kind of similarity, at least in one sense, during the very end of his own extremely well-crafted Morality Play. Unlike with him, however, my own particular story-line is not entirely finished yet, even though it is historically just around the bend; as my own real-life version of Jo Van Fleet, from East of Eden, along with her other son, are also about to discover. Indeed, an equally superlative performance, by Edward Binns, from Desire In the Dust, is about to make its mark, too, the hard way; particularly with relation to those who also participate in the selfsame profession he did, but much more commonly than superlatively. Fortunately, the relatively imminent ending which I currently anticipate is much more historically if not otherwise so very circumstantially well-timed than had been the case, say, for Preston Foster, from The Last Days of Pompeii, or Kirk Douglas, from Spartacus; even when the latter had decided he could endure no more, let-alone when Laurence Olivier had finally had enough of him. What I have to concern myself with the most, however, is the extent to which the much more endurably noble temperament, of Spartacus, is still being displaced, in my case, with the one of, again, Kirk Douglas, from The Last Sunset, during his more dangerously, irrepressibly volatile intervals. Likewise, Al Pacino, even at the end of The Godfather II, let-alone III, just as analogously and tragically comes to mind; alongside the equally unfortunate relevance, on second and third thought, of these very same segments, from Stallone's Rambo saga. . . . I do consider myself fortunate, nevertheless, that my story hadn't already ended, long ago, in the same way it had for Dustin Hoffman, or even Alan Ladd. More to the point, it probably wouldn't have made any difference, had I decided to continue the same senselessly masochistic ritual, right up to the back of the church; let-alone while slugging it out in a speed boat, against all the forces of hell! How brutally laughable that I had ever wanted it to work at all, contrary to the dignity as well as patience and self-control which required an alternate form of education to become more perfectly-ingrained; and which, even despite my current imperfections, has a much better chance of finally sinking in on time. Even then, I'd also despised the entire lot of them, no less than they did me; the way Jack Ging felt, along with Brett Halsey, about the former's own father and sister, at the end of Desire In the Dust. Regardless of how much time life proceeds to grant their kind, they only seem to continue feeling more and more delighted about what they are; to the point where I also deeply identify with Burt Lancaster, from The Swimmer, and feel just as Desperately, Fatalistically Vulnerable, during my numerously weakest moments, also like Anthony Quinn at the end of La Strada. Vincent Price, as The Last Man on Earth, is an appropriate analogy, too; alongside Charlton Heston, as The Omega Man! I feel as fed up, and for the same reasons, as Dr. Louis J. Prescott (Gene Lockhart), when he dived off the mast, to his death, in The Sea Wolf!--Or like Rod Serling's Leading star, from Number Twelve Looks Just Like You, as well as The Obsolete Man! And let's not forget John Hurt, under the Tutelage of Richard Burton, in 1984! They still despise me, but with even less reason, as well as more, than Brett Halsey had, for popping Ken Scott in the jaw; just as even the latter had much better reason than I would have, were I to reply, to the numerous jabs I'd received, by saying, "I don't blame you for doing that, doc!" However, my warning is just the same as his, but on even Higher Authority than they're so hysterically, violently, idolatrously venerating, when he continued, "But don't try throwing another one!"
Hard Times (1975)
Bronson at His Best!
I've seen about all of them, but there's only one which is Vintage Bronson, and that's Chaney, in Hard Times! This characterization was as resonant with meaning as it should be no less unnecessary than pointless to have to attempt to describe; just as any such commentary would inherently make no difference, to anyone who requires such a thing, for a man of so very few words himself. Like something almost out of this world, he emerged from nowhere, and disappeared just as enigmatically. I would have thought to include him before, in my attempt to rank at least the very few fictional prizefighters I consider worth instructively mentioning at all; save for the fact that he was as thoroughly "unprofessional," by his own definition, as he would have been unclassifiably over the very top of the scale in either case, and certainly a natural-born loner as well. He fought with the same single-minded, simply well-focused kind of attention which animated his every breath, as one who appeared no less symbolically predestined by nature to be incapable of defeat than Johnny Cash, as Abe Cross, in A Gunfight. Guns were not exactly his specialty in this one, even though he knew how to deliver the most unmistakably effective message with one in his hand, at exactly the right moment. . . . In fact, even certain of the more unsavory characters in this film had succeeded at commanding a much higher level of my respect than just about anybody I've ever encountered of a more "lawfully, respectably well-civilized" predisposition, who take such delusionally self-righteous pride at allegedly representing anything "morally above" the most universally primitive kinds of instincts. I'm referring, here, to something even more refreshingly and predictably candid, as coming from such transparently digestible representatives of the real world, than the mere fact that, unlike with the most typically and "virtuously uncorruptible," one can succeed even at buying certain of the most basic human rights from them, if only he has the money; rights which the abstractly disingenuous hot air of even the most loftily letter-perfect of formally-binding Constitutions has never actually intended to guarantee, as difficult as it would be to deliver upon such a promise, even if it did; to so very many who must fight, even for the right to exist at all, in conformity with the most spontaneously, circumstantially, and mercilessly self-defining of rules. What I mean is that, in addition to being the kinds of specimens of humanity with whom alone one can at all do even the most soundly scrupulous kind of business, instead of being inflexibly mowed down by "legal" restrictions only the most typically and formally "law-abiding" have the lack of sense to take seriously, even a most genuine element of Honor is likewise to be found within them alone! . . . It certainly hadn't been easy for a man of Chick Gandil's kind of pride to conform with the above description, at least not when he finally found himself on the side of a hefty bet only his opponent could not afford to lose. Yet, after having momentarily succumbed to the most despicably futile kind of temptation, he nevertheless came through, in the spirit of something so much better than a mere honor among thieves; which even some of the very worst from among them at least have enough sense to realize is structurally indispensable, if only for the most pragmatically selfish of reasons they are analytically discerning enough to truly appreciate. And, of course, Spencer "Speed" Weed, thanks to the almost innocently self-defeating extent of his own follies, would have been unable to arrive nearly that far along, apart from the kind of loan which required only the collateral of a few breakable ribs, if necessary, after the fact, to secure, minus anything as "respectably" sterile as an "application" to finalize. It's just about enough to make me wish I were living even under Al Capone's "protection," or Peter Falk, from Murder, Inc.; instead of at the "mercy" of the kind of racket which rather took them out, if not having actually been so much more "legitimately" and undetectably absorbed by precisely their kind. . . . I've been suffocating far-too-long, from the sort of typically, "Civilizedly Christian" lack of mentality which speaks of "love" only as a ruse, and which can thereby even succeed at sneaking up upon its prey from the very front; just as, when it speaks of "forgiveness," such is only to excuse if not deny the most culpably unrepentant faults! Even the most parasitically "learned" of "gentlemen" and "scholars" at the university instinctively hated Nietzsche to a "man," as though they respected anything better than the kind of "strength" he'd repudiated; just as they lack even the guts to fight their own unscrupulous battles, like any self-respectingly Noble Savage; as well as the brains to realize they simply love to slander and wound the rare, thus alone vulnerable "weakness" of my sincerity; while privately, invisibly sneering, right into my face, that they can do anything they want, and get away with it! It's no wonder they chose the only kind of "strictly literary" specialty even their puppeteers demand they be able to bluff their way through rhetorically! The same Hard Times which help cut through every such "Idealistically Civilized" Facade are again about to materialize, but on a scale which shall perhaps render even this higher level of consciousness more terminally incapable of survival. The previous such interval had only been the most senselessly unheeded warning, concerning a Covenant With Death which is, this time, about to be Totally Annulled--Ezekiel 8:6-18!
Requiem for a Heavyweight (1962)
The Art of Boxing
Although Mountain Rivera ties, with Mike Benson (Nick Adams), from an original episode of The Outer Limits, entitled Fun and Games, along with Joe Smith (James Edwards), from an original episode of The Fugitive, entitled Decision In the Ring, at being only my second favorite prizefighter (or, actually, the third, if one counts Jack Palance), only a viewing of my expanded layout shall reveal the answer as to who my number one is. But, as I also reiterate there, the difference is so very razor-thin only for the sake of those who no less meaninglessly than pedantically glory at splitting hairs, for essentially the same lack of any overwhelmingly factual reason there can only be a single winner, in any given category, during the Academy Awards. When viewed in such a symbolically endemic light, one cannot but regard boxing as being perhaps the most honest of all the professions, in a manner which particularly the greater multitudes of its spectators are not even artistically discerning enough to savour. . . . An unusually rare yet elementary level of perception is required, to avoid falling for such a pious fraud as Rocky Balboa, the Italian Stallion, despite the vast extent to which even I had initially been moved by the aura of his innocence. Such opponents as Apollo Creed and Clubber Lang most coherently understood, speaking about the real "Eye of the Tiger," that there's scarcely any such thing as a "nice, friendly round!" It's only in training that anything approximating the isometric principle even at all instrumentally applies, but about as precariously as the shifting winds of circumstance. That's why, contrary to something I'd read about Stallone, my favorite, from between the two, is Rambo, rather than Rocky; but only in the first segment (where I really started liking that soldier--a lot!), while Rocky ended, for me, in the third installment. . . . And, speaking of real artists, once again (or, rather, for the very first time, unless only my number one favorite is counted here, along with Mike Benson and Joe Smith), it required a connoisseur of Rod Serling's own supremely superlative stature to understand, in a manner even Mountain Rivera had remained too romantically punch-drunk to grasp, what the sport of boxing really does entail (as also very cogently depicted in a little Night Gallery segment, minus any dialogue); especially for a real-life champ who has therefore alone managed to retain the Unchallenged Title of his name change, and corresponding conversion to Islam, even despite the further handicap of an inalterable pigment in his skin. . . . What Serling undoubtedly lamented, all the way back to The Twilight Zone, about the hopelessly-ineradicable nature of this sport, shall perhaps yet quite terminally prove to have been symbolic of America's greatest weakness, once all her corresponding strength has been totally milked to the bone, for all it's worth. This could be particularly the case, given the kinds of fights she goes so enthusiastically to engage, particularly with the gloves so very "civilizedly," self-handicappingly donned, let-alone if they ever come off, in the form of nuclear devices which totally self-defeat their only potentially useful purpose, precisely to the extent that they have to be used at all! But, then, as long as this continues to be a plutocracy, governed by nothing but politicians and voters who merely want to win, regardless of the truth, and regardless of justice, as Al Pacino said, at the end of And Justice for All, I find very little reason to hope.
Lethal Weapon 4 (1998)
Is it Really a Freedom of, or From, the Law?
In fact, that choice of movie directors, from the previous segment, who needed the Moe Howard treatment, and a few corresponding lessons, in the most uncommonly respectful, humanly-dignifying of manners, minus an army of conveniently available cops, to rescue him from the more evenly, immediately, and constructively chivalrous consequences of an insolence only characteristic of the most deliberately, systematically, victimizingly ill-cultivated swine, even with relation to still other, equally, and solely, by nature, self-defining projections of the same, until he finally saw the light; had been about as cleverly, symbolically "subtle," in its clearest implications, as, for instance, a never-seen look-alike, of Amanda Bearse, from right out of Fright Night; although even the nature of the error which provoked his, over-against the "more understandably defensive" indignance of his reaction, rests upon the flimsiest, most conveniently, sinisterly obscuring foundation, of one who, for his part, is merely acting, at acting, at not acting, to the overshadowing of a more urgently real and dangerously neglected problem, involving, to speak almost as obscuringly as synonymously, those who prove even more convincing, when it comes to the practice of not acting, at, one could only wish, the even finer art of merely acting. . . . Either way, though, Riggs remained just as impulsively, even innocently, refreshingly true-to-form, in his target, as well as method, when it came to upholding his image, or what was at least still salvageably left of it, even to behold at all, as had the vampire, referenced immediately above, with, by then, his own even more irresistibly compelling lack of choice; although one can only wonder why, for instance, Clint Eastwood had failed to be nearly as astutely on-cue, when, in The Gauntlet, his already so dangerously faltering intuition, on several almost terminally reckless occasions, had begun manifesting itself in the terminology of a preacher, with his answer, to Sondra Locke, about taking certain things on faith, rather than in the form of even a most dire warning, as to the kinds of answers which can only be acquired the Hard Way; but, merely assuming, of course, against all the real odds in the world, that they had made it nearly as far as city hall, let-alone actually prevailed, even then, out of the jaws of a legal system so "efficiently" infested with a predominance of henchmen who are paid, as Blakelock said, not to think, but only to "react," to what is "right," simply because it is the law, minus any neatly-quantifiable concept of the only real law being that which is already so "debatably" and, thus alone, "insolubly" right. . . . Contrarily, though, given the inherent need of interpreting even the most clearly unambiguous kind of language, for content as well as applicability, rather than leaving even the latter to be determined only by the most Pontifically Infallible kind of authority; even an Adlerian Slip or two, which Murtaugh employed, for the purpose of laying down the nature of the law, to Leo Getz, is about the only kind of "improvement" to be otherwise so indispensably, even urgently expected, perhaps even more often than not, even on a totally freelance basis; as well as being so harrowingly reminiscent, in intent as well as quality, of Broderick Crawford, to Stephen Boyd, in The Oscar, or Brian Dennehy, to Sylvester Stallone, in First Blood, or even the Honorable Henry T. Fleming, to Arthur Kirkland, in And Justice for All, as to almost have necessitated the greater desirability of even a reprisal of Joe Pesci's characterization, from Goodfellas! Moreover, were it not for the fact that, as an ambassador (II Corinthians 5:20) (Ephesians 6:20), minus any "Diplomatic Immunity," my formal mandate authorizes nothing more than the attempt to peacefully, rationally persuade; I'd have been preparing a sequel, to The Patriot, single-handedly, if necessary, by now; over the issue, just for openers, of Teaand Taxesagain! . . . Jet Li, unfortunately, had been far-too-correct, as well, in his understanding as to the real nature of the law; along with his frighteningly superlative proficiency at the kinds of skills intended to help Riggs save a bit more face, the kind he'd also so cleverly salvaged while exiting ringside; just in case, that is, of any possible errors in judgment, from his audience, that he'd actually regarded himself as the greatest master of all; over-against even a much more seriously sadistic streak, too, which just about rendered even his own almost as genuinely unamusing, especially to him, as well as to the department psychologist, not to mention Murtaugh, as an actual trip to Uranus (or should I say Neptune?) could also very easily have been! Also, had it been me, rather than Leo, who'd been the victim, of one-too-many pranks, such as that mean-spirited set-up, subsequent to all the unprovoked bad-mouthing and belittlement, at a certain traffic stop, even after the times I'd already been impulsively thrown to the ground, face down, for no good reason, with cocked guns aimed at the back of my neck; I might have been almost tempted to remember the words, of Glycon, to Demetrius, in the sequel to The Robe, when he said, "Forget your religion, for just one day . . . Your God will thank you for it!" In fact, that pipsqueak, in the back seat, really needed a Jocko DeParis, The Strange One, to have dispensed with him; before far-too-many, of the likes of both, even on this side of the Rubicon, had undoubtedly ever graduated from the academy! But, then, if six long years of such, even at the university, followed by the related drowning, of my Natalie Wood, from Splendor in the Grass, had not decisively broken me down, I've therefore already long proved myself to be among the safest prospects of all! But I'd better stop now, as I'm getting a bit too "misty!" Nice guys still finish last, but Payback is going to be a real bear, while not a bone of His Body was broken (John 19:36)!
Lethal Weapon 3 (1992)
Shot for Sport, as Prey, While Jaywalking?
While things do have ways of becoming complicated, all by themselves; there's still just enough thought, quite systematically though collusively embodying them, to where the prospect of things becoming uncomplicated, all by themselves, would never be permitted, by any statistically viable measure of effort; save to the extent of such being the only possible solution, or at least the only one potentially required, in its capacity to insure that every vital truth is just as fatally shot in the back! . . . That is, to the virtually categorical exclusion of just as individually and intelligently-systematic-an-attempt to successfully as well as deliberately and even quite forcefully untangle all this sinisterly-underhanded intrigue; with nothing, one could only wish, but the most effective of ex-cop killers, at least in terms of the kind of armor which really needs be officially pierced; while targeting about the only real threat to, just for openers, Second Amendment Rights, in particular, which the NRA would be the very last to confront. . . . Riggs was an extremely slick act, even to those without the eyes to see completely through the loop of such a vitally indispensable parable. Yet, perhaps only because I'm still a lover of Mad Magazine, as well as the only kind of required reading in which I could never really believe; I wish he'd grow back that beautiful mane, despite even the extent to which we'd both love to be able to bypass the Mayhem and Chaos of the past fifty years alone, not to mention various other things which dare no less unjustifiably clash with the most uniformly rank-and-file blues. . . . I do hope it's not merely a false assumption that he is more than the most typically modern kind of Thespian, contrary to the abject probability of an alter-ego whose Greek even most Classically sneaks up from behind; so as to project the mere appearance of a Pathos bordering on the very Razor's Edge of self-absorption, within a Continuum of Being involving nothing butInvolvementand its redeemingly-transfiguring embodiment of even the most otherwise "merely professional" forms of detachment as well. . . . As a Christian, of course, I'd have no official authorization to follow the lead of the NRA, assuming it is even consciously let-alone explicitly aware of the implication that its guns would be of any use against the very Institutionalization which so systematically threatens, should I rather say, last, and even least of all, the Second Amendment; even given that the only other conceivable alternative, a reinstatement of even the Second Amendment, on the basis of Due Process, is the most hopelessly futile as well as sanely-reliable alternative. . . . As an American, though, minus any scripturally-prohibitive restraints (which, again, is certainly not the case), I'd be duty-bound, by our very Constitutional Philosophy, to act in the only way left, according to It, upon how systematically I've been denied Official Redress of so many of my more seriously intolerable grievances. But, then, thank God I'm not an American first, particularly given her own logically non-sequitur inversion, when carefully examined, of the real meaning of Separation of Church and State. The "trial" of Marcellus Gallio (Richard Burton), with Caligula (Jay Robinson) presiding, at the end of The Robe, is more than adequate to help make my meaning here clear; at least for anyone, if anyone, with even the brains, let-alone the will, to distill it! . . . That is, coupled with the kind of Class Warfare, between those relative few for whom society exists, and those many by means of whom it exists, which reduces the NRA to the most tactically-misleading kind of Ornament, along with Emmanuel Goldstein and the so-called "liberally" American institutions, at the other end of this collusively well-coordinated panorama of "equally represented" images. Ordinarily, it would be a real dilemma, particularly for a real Christian, over-against the typically professing ones, who compel me to much more meticulously define what I mean, lest I be confused with them, almost as much to their consternation as to that of my own! . . . That is, to decide which constitutes the real law of the land; either the de facto law, the kind only brute force could ever challenge the equally brutal enforcement of, if necessary; or, the very Constitutionally abstract codes, over-against the many layers of which this de facto law at least theoretically should be measured; assuming it is possible to overcome the most endlessly rhetorical debates, in favor of anything more than just as arbitrarily-rhetorical-a-consensus as to the difference, in any particular kind of case. . . . But then, again, it's only in a purely hypothetical sense, at least for purposes of action rather than definition, that such an issue concerns me at all, even as an American; as one, that is, who is duty-bound not to react, in any violently opposing way, to any facet of the de facto law; regardless of how illegal, by any real Constitutional definition, it may happen to be, or may not merely happen to be; as opposed to how even the Riggs in me would sometimes just-as-soon opt to handle the problem, that is, on any normal day! . . . Part II, in Lethal Weapon IV
Lethal Weapon 2 (1989)
A Very Poetically Symbolic Message, Part II
If there are any real heroes left in the world, I'd sooner include even a future heroin dealer who got off anything but easily, before nominating any grandson of slaves with a concept of law which still can't even look a simple child in the eyes, with the kind of answer he needs about whom that law is really glad to shoot! . . . That is, a concept of law which intimidatingly flaunts its own vulgarly intoxicating duty to bypass, not only the most legitimately overriding sense of personal debt, but also nothing less than the First Principle of the Nuremberg Tribunals!Right?or Wrong? Wrong!Right!and Right!But, this time, about as lightly as the Miranda concept is trivialized, as an opposing mirror image! . . . That is, at least until Due Process is just as questionably exchanged, even for a general's time to die; just as it had only thus been for a family member, grounded under punitive asylum; as if these allegedly opposing images lacked an operationally identical point of origin, obscured by eternal contrasts made manifestly relevant only after the fact, minus any optional way to die. . . . That is, as well as contrary to their own insufferably paternalistic insistence that the lesser substance by nature leads to the greater, but with the same Bad Faith behind their raving that sellers would be impossible without buyers, until the truth is ironically taken hostage, against even the most consistently incoherent incentive not to know. . . . Ordinarily, I'd have been much-too-negatively overwhelmed by the misleadingly pretentious duplicity of such a twistedly-discordant composite, were it not for the way even those more bitterly offensive elements had been Divinely grafted in; albeit with the aid of those who already have their reward, save for the very dismal fact that it has barely begun to be paid in full! . . . That is, as a reminder not to continue cursing our civilized heritage, even for let-alone through its grossest misinterpretations of just about every genuinely moral principle it even more self-indictingly knows so very well how to preach, and just as demandingly impose! . . . But, rather, let us mourn for it, as it continues, right to the very Razor's Edge of every rapidly-narrowing Shade of Gray, to demonstrate that its is the kind of Superlatively Idealistic Imagery which needs be just as artistically, compellingly subdued; via a few jolts of shock therapy which cut so anorexically thin that one is almost doomed to sayGood Night! . . . Yes, right up to the closing cemetery scene, with its tenderly somber and solitarily meditative mood; which speaks so clearly of the love I'll always have for my own "Victoria Lynn," and of a metamorphosis which just may succeed at putting me again in touch with my deepest feelings. . . . That is, contrary to an inner sense of emptiness which still projects only the illusion of her absence, as well as a very serious form of blindness which time cannot for very much longer afford to indulgebefore even its Diplomatic Immunity is fatally revoked--and involving the real meaning, here and now, of Ezekiel 24:15-27!
Lethal Weapon (1987)
A Very Poetically Symbolic Message
Please consider this very symbolic remembrance of me, as it reflects the internal struggle I have been undergoing just as coarsely yet sensitively; including certain language I hope you need no more tastefully shun than embrace, despite my deepest apologies, even for some of what can be much-too-plainly seen as well. . . . I'm also sorry it's so intricate-an-interweaving of just about everything to which I most essentially relate, and just about every image I've so thoroughly come to renounce; but perhaps not quite on time to avoid dying of cancer, almost as Fatalistically as I sometimes feel tempted to jump, if not indulge the most compulsively-evasive appetites! . . . It's as if the good guys, those only the god of this age really loves for what they are, but no more than to the point where even that remains so unavoidably expedient to his most tenderly domesticating sensibilities, were not any other than Mr. Joshua and The General. . . . That is, contrary to the viciously, systematically slandered image of just about everything this god as dishonestly, shamefully despises, while insuring that it hates him back in a way which really does work, if only to prolong the dirty little secret that it's not crazy! . . . They're still denying it a more chivalrously sporting Shot at the Title, and have even quite carelessly written it off for dead, due to a zeal for being thorough which they mistakenly assume has penetrated to the very heart of the problem! . . . They thereby defy a Force of Reason it need renew, every single day, in order to continue doing the only thing it's ever really been good at; over-against their need never to admit how accidentally neat they are at even wounding it in the leg, let-alone with such rhetorically mystifying impactright between the eyes! . . . That is, just as far-too-many of their more intentionally fatal blows must be even more accurately yet lyingly listed by them as accidental, at least in the only way which can possibly matter at all; to those who quite conveniently pay no more real mind to the motive than to the deed, lest even by luck the worst kind of marksmanship does operationally manage to redeem. . . . That is, while embodying a Reason of Force which often tells the truth, but never by nature because it is the truth; contrary to as explicitly-relentless-a-denial as necessary of this very truth, in the form of their most fundamentally, categorically misleading expedient. . . . How much more gracefully yet I'd love to be able to put my weapon permanently under the pillow, rather than needing a hollow point to do the job right; as one who never really expects to be home for Christmas, but only followed without mercy by one last reminder that the closing theme is all that remains, even of his dreams. . . . Part II, in Lethal Weapon II
The Last Mile (1959)
Mickey Rooney Gave a Superlatively Masterful Performance!
While the original 1932 version, with Preston Foster, was good, there's no remake more worthy than this 1959 one, or more impossible to find anywhere, just as I strongly suspect Mickey Rooney to have had something to do with that. Never could a mere performance have ever been so masterfully brilliant, or a script more thought-provoking, as well as an improvement upon the original. Many years after the last of my several viewings of this film, in 1970, I read an article in which Mickey Rooney was recounting a visit he'd made to death row, and which had apparently very drastically eliminated whatever sense of personal identification he'd felt with people in similar circumstances. The article was about as short as the main character here, and didn't cover much, other than the extent to which his extreme disillusionment with the quality of the inmates themselves had been emphasized, even in language I would not care to explicitly quote here. . . . . One of my main problems with capital punishment is that, of course, it is not evenly, impartially applied, just as many innocent people are far-too-carelessly, thus unnecessarily sent to meet this particular fate. Another problem I have with it is that it is not applied swiftly enough, or, for that matter, even publicly enough! The bible makes a special point, in such cases, about one of the more important purposes of such, as a deterrent, being ineffectually obscured, minus, not only a public viewing, but also the direct participation of all! As for those who claim to prove, statistically, that such is not an effective deterrent? In addition to having a problem about the reliability of their data, I have little if any objectively disprovable doubt many are behind bars now due to the extent that such a deterrent is lacking. However, I do have a problem about the fact that Robert Duvall, in The Apostle, had been punished at all, for his particular "crime," or that the only hope of leniency for one such as he would have to be based on a "temporary insanity" defense, as though that would serve as the only acceptable excuse in his kind of case. . . . In addition to various other questions concerning the motives of Mickey Rooney for that particular visit he'd recounted, and about the answers to which I can only try to speculate, I suspect the main one had been of a decidedly religious nature. I don't know exactly when he'd become the professing Christian he now makes it a special point, whenever possible, to emphasize that he is; but, as anybody should be well-aware, this particular category of people tends to be the most vehemently out for blood, when it comes to extracting an eye for an eye. However, I have no particular bone of contention concerning that, per se, just as there's no doubt, scripturally speaking, that not all, and perhaps not even most, shall be spared the same ultimate fate, at the hands of the Lord Himself, as a result of His sacrifice on the cross. However, there is a problem, for me, about the spirit or attitude with which most professing Christians emphasize their enthusiasm for capital punishment; for, contrary to the Lord Himself, who would love to see everybody saved (Ezekiel 18:32) (II Peter 3:9), they seem to go vindictively out of their way to find reasons to condemn! . . . What most people, on either side of this superlatively ever-burning issue, cannot appear to sufficiently appreciate, is that the Lord is as dynamically and elusively soft in nature as He is hard. The two sides of His nature appear to be so inherently incompatible as to render Him mentally deranged, at least by any strictly human reckoning. Yet, regardless of how harrowingly ungraspable this miraculously dynamic blending of the water and oil in His nature surely is, there can be no doubt that anything short of it, or anything fanatically and characteristically on either one side or the other of this equation, falls inadequately and unacceptably short of the entire judicial truth. Indeed, I've seen the most blood-curdling thirst for the same come out, self-contradictorily enough, on far-too-many occasions, whenever the categorically anti-death penalty advocates are confronted, even in the most rationally well-balanced ways, with the fact that, although the Lord died for everybody, not all are thereby going to be saved. After-all, in order to receive absolution, one must, to repeat the same term, reach out and receive it, that is, repent (Luke 13:3-5). Could anything make more sense? . . . But, then, what about the Lord's command to forgive, even in the case of one's enemies, of those who despise and persecute you without a just cause or provocation? One of the far-too-prevailing difficulties with this kind of sentimentality, as popularly misinterpreted, is the way it obscuringly over-simplifies the real meaning of forgiveness. The act of forgiveness does not, in itself, mean the same thing as unconditionally excusing the one being forgiven. When one takes a clearly sober, rationally well-balanced view here, from the perspective of God's own attitude, all it actually amounts to is a fervent wish that the one forgiven will ultimately succeed at finding his way, seeing the light, and being granted mercy. This attitude is, of course, the very opposite of, say, that of Jonah, who actually resented it when God told him that his preaching to the people of Nineveh would result in their repentance. Jonah didn't want them to repent, but vindictively desired that they be destroyed. How self-righteously, cold-bloodedly like unto most professing Christians he was, save that even his reasons were undoubtedly better than most! I envy Jonah almost as much as he would me! However, minus the repentance of the one being forgiven, any forgiveness he may receive from a genuine Christian is not going to do him any good. In such a case, the only one to benefit is the real Christian himself!
A Christmas Carol (1938)
The Angst of Ebenezer Scrooge
For my part, the bitterness and cynicism of Scrooge is something much more genuine than all the self-righteously, judgmentally, venomously, "wholesomely sweet-smelling" hypocrisy which can't wait to get its hands on his money; in a way which makes even the merchants more honest, and which the image of Tiny Tim is prostituted for the purpose of obscuring most effectively. And they dare call Peter Lorre The Face Behind the Mask! I've had the lifelong displeasure of knowing their kind well, just as it was because of my formerly, vulnerably childlike innocence and trust, the kind they conned out of me, that they'd hated me even more, before the fact, and to the spoiling of my soul, than they do him in their compassionlessly backstabbing spite and envy. I've never encountered anybody, in religion, education, or anywhere else, conservatively or liberally, who cares at all about the "Business of Mankind," contrary to the therefore compoundingly, nauseatingly, brutally, mystifyingly self-deceptive endlessness of the infamy of their mere words! The most "inadvertently" redeeming ending to the Dickens story is the deeper reason that Scrooge had been judged worthy of a final chance at redemption! . . . If there's anything this typically "sweet-smelling" kind will turn on even more vindictively than one who tells them the most scornfully they don't really love a living thing, it's the person whose innocence awakens the Claggart in them, but less honestly or woundedly than even he'd ever had it in for Billy Budd! Claggart's too internally complex for them, but even a final product of his kind of handiwork as refreshingly uncomplicated as General Zod knows most of them better than they do themselves! In fact, I can just about understand, but with the most genuinely "laughable" of tears in my own eyes, why it was that even General Zod had soon begun to find these earth creatures so very boring! They're almost enough to make me wish I could trade my Father God for something as mutually exclusive as The Godfather, given how they love to mock the kind of anguish they have no capacity to feel, but only to inflict! Try asking Rock Hudson, from The Spiral Road, about that; although even his preacher of a father had been more inquisitionally, transparently sporting about showing his true colors, and his own already tragically destroyed sense of humanity! . . . In case anyone believes this is all I really have against Xmas, there's also the scripturally-compelling evidence that this uncoincidentally, anciently Pagan Winter Solstice could never have been Christ's birthday, any more than he could have died on a Friday. The only annual Holy Day biblically calculated to fall on the same day of the week, every year, is Pentecost!--Not the Passover! Indeed, if the Lord didn't die on a Wednesday, in the middle of the literal week, as well as of Daniel's Seventieth Week, just before sunset, then Christianity would have to be just as false as God's Word! So much for their outright lies. But these typically self-professing Christians can't even utter a single truth without turning it likewise into the most hatefully-bigoted kind of lie! That's why Spencer Tracy was so much more palatable than Fredric March as to have been capable of literally mopping the floor with him, in Inherit the Wind! On the contrary, though, speaking of "hobby horses," about the only real "scientific proof" Henry Drummond and his kind actually have for their half-baked theories, is the even more philosophically mediocre, presumptuously nimble-minded "conviction" that, because there cannot possibly be any God in the first place, it therefore simply "must" have happened in the only way there is left! . . . And, again, who can really blame even them, given the extent to which they're up against the most viciously anti-social Darwinists of all, those about as philosophically inconsistent as the "naturalists" who nevertheless speak of nothing but a "love" I've never been able to find in any of them, either! You can, for instance, behold the "Spirit of Xmas" in any shopping mall, with people walking about drooling over inanimate objects, while completely ignoring one-another, and even giving dirty, petrifying looks if you try to "suspiciously" acknowledge their presenceas the most worthless objects of all! They're right out of George A. Romero's Dawn of the Dead!--Or, as Rodriguez said to Sol Nazerman, in The Pawnbroker, "Right in the middle of one big whorehouse, right in the bosom of the world!--Right in the middle of it, and you don't know it!--Or, maybe something else, maybe because you don't want to know! Are you the kind who doesn't want to know about things, feel about things, are you that kind?" Then, there's what a hired gunslinger, Vern Hickson, said to Victoria Barkley, in an episode of The Big Valley, entitled The Profit and the Lost: "Bankers don't kill people? Everybody, everybody kills! And for the same reason--money! My way's more honest--that's all!"
The Mask of Zorro (1998)
A Superbly-Inspiring Work of Art!
Speaking of cinematic masterpieces, the Final Anti-Type, the Seventh and Last Head, on the Image of the Beast (Daniel 7:7), really should preview carefully one of the very best, as well as, now, and, therefore, all-the-more-amazingly, one of the latest; in which some of the finest examples of his dreaded "Oligarchical Principle," Noblemen who, to quote a line from the film, "say one thing and think another," are very vividly displayed. In fact, Zorro is a very personal Trademark to me, as a connoisseur who couldn't be more delighted with the latest enhancement upon an already immortalized classic. Whereas most ultra-modern cinema tends merely to substitute for the lack of any formal resonance, with technological enhancements designed to stimulate the most sensationalistically depraved senses alone, The Mask of Zorro is a genuine work of art; to begin with, in the strictest aesthetic sense per se, as well as in the form of one of the most thoughtfully inspiring and carefully well plotted Morality Plays I've ever encountered, right up there with the inherently insurpassable Robin Hood of Errol Flynn! All the right elements of action, romance, chivalry, and honor serve to bring out the deepest subtleties of the human spirit, with a refinement which can only be appreciated to the unfortunately rare extent it deserves by those who find it nothing short of the most personally and permanently transfiguring experience, rather than as the mere entertainment it no less abundantly is. . . . Even the casting, as well as the script, and the finely blended musical score, could not have been more to perfection! Anthony Hopkins was in the finest form I have ever seen for him, as Don Diego de la Vega, with his magnificently aristocratic charm, and genuine nobility of stature. And, of course, Antonio Banderas holds his own with an artistic mastery every bit as impressive as the swordsmanship it nevertheless so much less plausibly embodies, particularly on such buffoonably short notice, along with just about all the skills of a Valentino, a Bruce Lee, and even a Tarzan combined; although I wish that little trick with the candles, which had Basil Rathbone laughing out the other side of his face as well, in 1940, had likewise somehow found its way into this particular script, in some imaginatively analogous form. . . . Even while exaggerated to the point of the most deliberately fanciful ludicrousness, I only wish I could say in everything but the strictest ethical sense as well, one embodying a fight for the most genuinely independent kind of California; such antics are, in the process, really only intended to lend greater buoyancy to the spirit and imagination of a Vision for which almost nobody is even soberly religious enough to search. The truth is that the herd loves and insists upon nothing more than to be kept fattened, contented, dumbed down, and led by the nose, particularly with the most beautifully self-flattering delusions! Indeed, about two-hundred years of modern democracy have done more than the past few thousand to completely confirm perhaps even its grossest incapacity for anything else, as well as its strongest instinct to murder anybody who dares tell it as much!--Speaking even of most Working Class Heroes who think they have any more use for John Lennon than he did for them! What most of them really need, to replace the unwarrantedly inflated view they currently have of themselves, is enough of the right kind of guidance and discipline, for a totally unprecedented change! . . . Catherine Zeta-Jones could not have been more charmingly tailored to her role, with the same added sword-in-hand through which Stuart Wilson likewise compounds so dynamically upon the original 1940 script. In fact, I never realized just what a superb character actor Mr. Wilson actually is, until given a chance to compare this performance, of Don Rafael Montero, with his part, for instance, as the equally though much less demandingly evil "ex" cop, Jack Travis, in Lethal Weapon III. As Captain James T. Kirk, from the Star Ship Enterprise, would have put it, he's definitely earned his pay for the week, along with other compensations just about as harrowingly reminiscent of the great Kodos; that is, next to an equally fine performance, of Captain Harrison Love, played by Matthew Letscher, whose own chivalrously ignoble sense of "honor" had also come to its most Divinely-Predestined End (Psalms 57:6), as seen through the eyes of its very own worst enemy. . . . And it's certainly no surprise to see the name of Steven Spielberg among the list of credits, for the same reason it would have been quite a surprise to me had just about anybody else been able to pull off this particular little stunt. To quote still another line from the film, which might as well have come directly from, again, the Final Anti-Type, the Seventh and Last Head, on the Image of the Beast, "The children should never have to see the things we do," after-all; and yet, to the contrary, he, as with any real "traitor to his own class," should be among the first to insist that the children not be spared even the most tastefully as well as meaningfully well-proportioned violence in this one! But, to be perfectly honest, I have very little hope here, for essentially the same reasonHe'll Never Be Rid of Me!
Falling Down (1993)
Screaming "Fire" In a House That Is Perhaps Actually Burning!
Why do I like Mr. Foster so much, and even empathize with him so completely?--Albeit Purely Hypothetically! Is it really just because I must be no less crazy than he, as most would readily insist? Or, could it possibly be something much less typically simple (non-) minded than that, which is more popularly, normatively, thus alone unassailably reflected in what has happened, what we've all allowed to occur, to every one of us, and insist upon keeping that way? Perhaps it's the form, and not the content, of how he'd begun expressing himself? Well, then, maybe he should have just found a friend to talk to, or even a stranger on the street; one who would, no doubt, have sarcastically called him crazy, regardless of how calmly and sensibly he'd tried to share his feelings! In fact, far-too-many, if not most, instinctively interpret kindness as weakness and stupidity! About the only form of somebody's need to falsely or at least ignorantly but sincerely believe himself at all Christianly Compassionate, rather than much more predictably and viciously resentful, which he'd thereby have had even a small chance of encountering; would have undoubtedly assumed the conventionally and evasively falsifying expression of a suggestion that he see a psychiatrist, where the presupposition that he's the only one with the problem remains axiomatically supreme. At best, the psychiatrist might uncharacteristically concede, if he's sufficiently "one-upped," that, while society itself unwittingly suffers from its own pseudo-collective form of psychosis, there's nothing anybody can do to change that, thus leaving the only realistically sane alternative that of adjusting to it, while antiseptically neutralizing the very reason why society itself could and even should consider changing, one real individual at a time, if not all of them, at once! . . . His wife was certainly not available, just as the film itself at least appears to presuppose that no account as to how the brutally-insensitive hostility in her attitude had come about needs to be offered, since the answer to that is allegedly right before the horrified eyes of the audience, which smugly assumes the way he's expressing himself to be nothing but the cause, rather than perhaps at least as decisively an effect of the fact that no other form of approach had ever made any constructive difference. In fact, try saying "please," to the Devil, and his technique will often be to get your goat, so he can be the one to point the finger! The only thing which never self-vindicatingly comes into focus is the kind of man who just wants to see his daughter, or the kind of man whose reasons for feeling so dangerously perturbed should have been no less self-evidently and understandably revealing. Perhaps he should have made a movie about the problem, although it would have thereby been reduced to nothing but a form of contained and squared-away entertainment, infested with mere actors (as well as Circus Maximus spectators), who've learned nothing, but only want to be, as Nietzsche so cynically and accurately observed, well-paid, and "glorified," in full (Matthew 6:1-6). Or, what if he'd tried to share his thoughts on a web site such as this, about a similar kind of film; only to have received a long string of negative votes, and even complaints to the web site masters about how he's not sticking to an appropriately relevant or artistically non-controversial critique of the film; from many-too-many who are offended due to their unwillingness to handle any deeper, more meaningfully relevant kind of truth, and whose demands that the comments be deleted would thereafter be instantaneously honored? . . . I was going to say that such people are typically reflective of Hitler, in their spontaneously instinctive inclination to insist that anything they don't like be totally censored; particularly if their feeling is prevalent enough to where they know their demand would thereby alone be self-evidently vindicated, no questions asked, as well as very undemocratically minus any respect for perhaps even the many who would have appreciated a chance to read such comments. But, then, on second thought, perhaps even Hitler was also if not even primarily reacting, in spirit, to the very kind of people who would have unhesitatingly reacted, in precisely his way, to still others, who would have reacted, in exactly the same way, to them, had any one of them, from either category, simply had the chance Hitler did to do so, coupled with what Scarface called "the guts to be what you want to be," which alone most so very "virtuously," timidly, domesticatedly, albeit no less brutally, uncompromisingly, in attitude, lack. I have no doubt that most would want my head, or at least my comments bigotedly deleted, for what I'm about to say, in the more constructive way that they'd thus quite hypocritically suggested the Columbine boys should rather have expressed themselves! Nevertheless, what I do believe is that there is a great deal of truth to the assertion that Hitler had been at least as much a reaction to "Hitler" as anything else (he had himself called it "Fighting Terror with Terror!"), and that this is at least as much the reason he's been so hatefully, hysterically demonized, from beneath all the indispensably good arguments against him behind which they conveniently hide from themselves! Even Bible Believers incoherently forget that, when Paul and Peter speak of all the powers that be having been Divinely-Ordained, Hitler must thereby have been meant, too, at least for the duration of his tenure, and for a much better reason than that he had simply "come out of nowhere, " to disrupt an otherwise "Christianly Harmonious" situation! The biggest waste of all is that nobody's learned, even from Hitler! However, the next and last one will prove to be much more "antithetical" or "diplomatically palatable" than he had been, particularly in his most equally, morally unjustifiable folly!
Impact (2004)
Also Very Well Done
This is a continuation of the critique of The Making of The Passion of the Christ. The actual Trinity (Matthew 28:19) is a reference, not to the "Three Persons" of God, but to the Three Functions or Manifestations of God. The Holy Spirit is, not an "It," contrary to what Mr. Herbert W. Armstrong contends (just as he uniquely errs in saying there were, not Three Persons, but rather Two Persons, in Eternity Past), but rather the very Spirit of the Father. That's why Jesus, in having been conceived by the Holy Spirit, is thereby the Son of the Father, rather than being the Son of the Holy Spirit instead of the Father. Consider an ordinary human being, created in the image and likeness of God, consisting of a soul (an animated body) and an individual spirit; however, not, again, as two persons, but rather as one (just as the mortally human soul and spirit are separated, at the point of physical death, Hebrews 4:12). God the Father was the separately Creative Manifestation of God, in the beginning; and, thus, the Symbolic Image of the Word, or the Son; until, that is, He became the Father. But, while the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of the Father, Jesus had an individual human spirit, which united with the Father's, after His water baptism in the Jordan; so that the two had become one, and blended, in the most uniquely, virtually indistinguishable way of all. . . . However, that very process had been unavailable to Fallen man, in the most Judicially open sense, until Jesus had become a totally Perfected and Glorified participant in the Holy Spirit, so that this Spirit was actually Their Spirit, in the most Completely Finished sense. Moreover, Scripture further confirms the extent to which Jesus had to be Perfected (Hebrews 2:9-10); in a manner which would not have been necessary, for Him, had He "simply" and "unequivocally" or "unparadoxically" been God! That's why Pentecost could not have occurred before all this was fulfilled (John 16:5-11). The most which can be said for the concept of the "Three Person Trinity" is that, paradoxically, the very language being employed, here, in defense of the Real Trinity, could also be quite logically, consistently applied to the concept of "Three Persons," too; however, in a manner to where the very question of whether "Three Persons" are actually involved becomes, at best, something hopelessly, paradoxically insoluble. Moreover, at least some of the reasons the "Three Person Trinity" is no less structurally disjointed than strictly superfluous per se, should be explicitly clear enough by now. Even the very best possible manner of defending it is necessarily as inadequate as the very thing being defended in the process, as an "adaptation" of the polytheism of pre-Christian Rome. . . . When carefully examined, the only real difference (aside from Rome's uniquely historical predominance, as the Mother of all cults), by way of Mainstream Protestant Fundamentalist definition, between a "sect" and a "cult," is that the former embrace the doctrine of the Trinity, while the latter do not. Indeed, aside from this one essential difference, Rome fits virtually every Mainstream Protestant Fundamentalist definition of a "cult." Just to cite but one "minor bit" of such predominantly astonishing blindness in this respect, particularly among professing Christians of all "sectarian" denominations; where does, for instance, Romans 14:5-6, appear to condone the teaching that everlasting torment is the inevitable result of "unrepentantly" missing a Mass on Sunday, or a "Holy Day of Obligation," or eating a piece of meat on Friday? Such regressions into spiritual bondage are quite elaborately exposed for what they really are in Paul's Epistle to the Galatians. Grace, in general, as opposed to Law, is also poetically symbolized in the outline of Daniel's Seventieth Week (Daniel 9:20-27), which begins with a baptism (Matthew 3:13-17) and ends with a baptism (Acts 10). Just as John the Baptist, who symbolized Law, had said he must "decrease" (John 3:30); so, also, did the order itself symbolically "evolve," from that of the Holy Spirit following the baptism itself, to that of this same "Baptism of Fire" preceding the baptism itself. More accurately, Peter, at the end of Acts 10, is commanding, as such, not that baptism be mandatory, but rather that it not be forbidden. There's an infinity of difference, in spirit, between having to be baptized, and having no reason not to be, as beautifully ushering in as well as symbolizing the overall spirit of New Covenant obedience. A real Christian is free rather than bound to be baptized--after the fact.
The Making of 'The Passion of the Christ' (2004)
Very Well Done
The simple truth is that there is only one Christian God, one original Person of God, contrary to the well-founded criticism of Islam that Roman Catholicism, with its "Triune God," is indeed quite non-biblically (this being my added emphasis, rather than that of Islam) albeit ambiguously and rhetorically rather than "paradoxically" polytheistic in form. What about the traditionally-argued claim that God had originally been referred to in the plural, via the term "Elohim" (Genesis 1:26)? Actually, if the angels were present at the creation of the physical universe (Job 38:1-7), then it is hardly a far cry to assume that they were also present at the creation of man; just as, for that matter, it would have proved "awkward," to say the least, had God not addressed the angels themselves, directly, in the second person, on that very occasion! But, then, what about John 1:1-15, in which Christ is referred to as "The Word," who, in the beginning, was with God, and was God? In the beginning was the Creative Power of God, and the Creative Power of God was with God, and the Creative Power of God was God. As for John 1:2? Before Christ's physical conception as a separate manifestation, He was with God, but in the same way any offspring is "with" his parents before conception (Hebrews 7:9-10), but not as a separate identity. Christ was, again, with God, and was God. Christ represents the Creative Power of God (Colossians 1:15-19), the Distinctive Person of God; which can have no coherent meaning apart from the concept of a beginning, and His creation of that which is not God (Revelation 1:8). This Creative Power of God had eventually produced (or, more accurately, reproduced) a created and separate manifestation, or Perfect Reflection, of this very Creative Power. Christ, as a separate and mortal individual, per se, with a distinctive Identity, did indeed have a beginning. But, then, what about still other statements, from Christ Himself, which seem to indicate the "pre-existence" of a "Second Person" (John 17:5)? This is rather a reference to predestination! Cross-reference it with, for instance, Ephesians 1:4! And, if one still insists upon more, then try Revelation 13:8! Moreover, one can only praise the heavens, the way Jesus did, in Matthew 11:25-27, upon marveling no less at the, at bottom, no less merely political in motivation than childishly pseudo-religious wrangling (Colossians 2:1-10) (I Corinthians 1:10-29) of those who finally concluded the current "Trinity" Doctrine! While you're also glimpsing through I Corinthians, Chapters Two and Three, concerning even the "wonders" of the current "non-denominationalism," too, for that matter (1:12d), please try taking particularly special note of 3:10-20! . . . But, then, what about statements to the effect that "Before Abraham was, I Am" (John 8:58)? Actually, the Spirit is Indivisibly One, and it is only in this sense, along with the fact that Christ is an Exact Duplicate of the One who thereby became His Father, that Christ, as a separately mortal individual, had been "Pre-Existent" as such. Even scriptures such as Matthew 19:17 quite symbolically serve to reinforce this point, as Christ therein attributes His Own Goodness, distinctively enough (from Himself), to God. Moreover, Christ very explicitly disavows any claim, as a still mortal individual, to Omniscience as well (Matthew 24:36). As a separately mortal individual, Christ did indeed have a beginning, when He was miraculously conceived (quite distinctively, in this sense, John 1:14, next only to the first Adam) minus a human father (although Satan had been capable of siring offspring through human females, too, Genesis 6:1-4, like right out of Rosemary's Baby!). The only real paradox, here, is that of how such a thing could have occurred per se, of how Christ could have been (the Son of) God, and yet also not God (the Son of Man), too (Matthew 26:64; 27:40); rather than in the form of how God could have been "One," and yet "Three Separate Persons," before the advent of Christ's conception in Mary's womb. Christ, as distinct from God, rather sits at the Right Hand of God (Romans 8:34). He is God, in the sense, also, that all authority has been handed unto Him (Hebrews 1:1-6). Similarly, those who shall rule with Him (Revelation 3:9), in their Immortally Transfigured States, likewise share in this very distinction, albeit to various degrees, from beneath Him (Matthew 25:14-23) (Luke 19:11-19). The simple, rhetorically uncluttered truth, is that God the Father had a Son, with a beginning, and yet no end (Isaiah 9:6-7) (Hebrews 1:8-12). All the rest of the ultimately redeemed, with their mortally human fathers, shall yet be, each in their own order (I Corinthians 15:20-25), imperishably transfigured, but as spiritually adopted Sons (Romans 8:14-15). Unlike only Jesus Himself, even the "Natural Branches" (Romans 11) share merely in His maternally biological lineage; which ultimately, individually profits nothing, in and of itself (Luke 3:8). See the second and final part of this critique in Impact: The Passion of the Christ
The Final Conflict (1981)
Packed With Thought-Provoking Symbolism
Of course, Michael York's version of The Final Conflict was much more literally on the mark, even though Sam Neill's no less chillingly, charmingly magnetic performance was packed with an even more in-depth, thought-provoking element of symbolism. In this connection, beyond the drawing of a few logically plausible inferences, in conjunction with various questions of "military strategy," it would be quite an ambitious leap to attempt a clinically psychological analysis of Satan. It's certainly beyond much real doubt that, having lost everything he'd been so abundantly handed, on a proverbial silver platter, he was, again, as Damien so passionately expressed it, in a bit of his own kind of agony; although, for all that, there were apparently no regrets, except for what only his enormous pride, as so well expressed by Milton, had blinded him to foreseeingnamely, the inherent inevitability of his losing the War in Heaven he started. Thereafter, the thought of anything short of taking what he wanted by force had still been no less unbearably demeaning and compromising to him, particularly in the form of his having rather attempted to more honestly earn his rightful place, God's way; although, about as self-compromisingly albeit unavoidably, one can just about hear him, even now, putting his enormous rhetorical skills into action, once they'd been about all he'd had left, by way of personal defense; in his argument to the effect that it was God, and not he, who amounted to the real "Tyrant!" . . . Moreover, now that Satan has had about six-thousand years to no less incorrigibly continue "inadvertently" proving himself so categorically dead-wrong, one should not even need the prophecy, so graciously provided in advance, as to how utterly unbroken he shall prove to have been, even subsequent to a yet future one-thousand year period of confinement in the Bottomless Pit of Revelation 20:1-3!Which is undoubtedly one important reason, from among others too fascinatingly lengthy to delineate here, why God patterned the prophetic sequence of events in precisely this way, in answer to the logical question of at least a few, as to whether it would have done any good for even the Infinite Compassion of God to have provided some kind of "savior," or whatever, even for him; that is, merely assuming, but only in the most academically insoluble sense, that such a thing would have been possible at all; or, at least, somehow provided for, under an alternatively-predetermined Plan, had the Lord foreseen such a fruitfully-redeeming necessity to have been the case. . . . However, either way, one can be certain that God takes no pleasure in having to forfeit any of His most magnificently angelic creations, just as He considered Satan to have been no less personally than symbolically, judicially, and even didactically more than worth the kind of six-thousand-year Trial of the Ages, at human expense, which is now about near its end. Of course, God had been sporting enough, in the process, to have given Adam the choice (as to whether each individual's morally free options would subsequently have to be decided on the easy road, rather than the hard one); one which could have rather resulted in Satan's having lost his wager, right on the spot, thereafter no longer to have been potentially useful for anything, eitherother than the Lake of FireRevelation 20:10! After-all, Adam's choice could not have been a real one, if this hadn't also constituted a correspondingly real possibility. But, alas, it didn't actually materialize, after-all! . . . Finally, there's no comparing the Fairest of Trials having been granted, by the alleged "Tyrant," God, to Satan; with the kind of "Trial" Satan delivered to the Only Begotten Son of God, in return! Additionally, just about anybody worth everlastingly salvaging, by now, should have well-surpassed Satan's continuing level of denial; in his insistence that even democratically, capitalistically "scientific" competition, the kind which has allegedly "synthesized" the "principle" of universal selfishness with a system of "lawful checks and balances" which externally if not motivationally serve to prevent the unscrupulous victimization of anybody in the process, thus at least potentially opening the way for the individual self-actualization of all, is anything better than the inevitably, decisively unacceptable failure it is still very terminally proving itself to be. . . . And, to be sure, subsequent to his defeat at the Cross, Satan has been utilizing the only real strategy he has left; in that, for about two millennia now, he's been systematically masquerading as the only credible thing remaining (John 16:7-11), even to the most characteristically, "morally-minded" of atheists, namely, his Opponent, along with an array of remarkably-interlocking though "contrastingly" effective results! No "Tyrant," after-all, could possibly have demonstrated His point (or, for that matter, Satan's, too) any more effectively, selflessly, expensively, indictingly, and, of course, no less redeemingly!Than had been accomplished at the Cross!--That is, the total antithesis of everything "scientifically socialistic" or "altruistically" hedonistic as well!--Although, for essentially the same reason, His was not the only "Time of Jacob's Trouble," to the exclusion of still another, shortly to commence! . . . The Tragic Irony is that one doesn't have to tell ole Cool Hand Luke how compromising to God's Image Satan has inherently demonstrated himself to be, and what a brutally painful "Failure to Communicate" it's helped to foster; to the point where His Very Existence per se would appear the greatest of every Impossibility in which He claims to specialize, especially for one who's struggling as desperately as even Anthony Quinn's Barabbas to make Him "compute!" Howard Beale discovered, too, in a manner which didn't turn out to be very funny, after-all, about the kind of Court Jester to which God has been reduced; just as even His Clinically Bi-Polar Sense of Humor is perhaps the most Absurdly Bearable thing about Him, but only if there's really Nobody There to Thus Have to Blame, other than the most "Easternly Wholistic" or "Pantheistically, Adventurously, Amorally, 'Self-Dismemberingly' Ever-Dreaming" Culprit of Dostoyevsky's "Notes from Underground!"
The Omen (1976)
The Main Story Line is Anything But Fantasy!
Mr. Stephen Hanchett's book, Is George Bush the Antichrist?, is much more carefully reasoned and impressively researched than the movie, here; but, with a dangerously misleading limitation which ultimately and ironically serves to make it the fulfillment of II Thessalonians 2:11!!! Is George Bush the Antichrist? The answer is, paradoxically, both yes and no--but, more basically, the answer is no!--Just as the selfsame description applies to Hitler! Embodying the true configuration of Biblically Prophetic Patterning (but without being able to elaborate adequately, in this brief space, upon most of the finely and scripturally/historically demonstrable details) is a comprehensively paradigmatic unfolding of the story of Joseph (Genesis 37-50), from the time he was sold into slavery by his eleven brothers (the other sons of Jacob), until the time of the Exodus, subsequent to his death. His having been sold into slavery was a prophetic foreshadowing of Exodus 1:8-14. His having become a servant in the Egyptian house of Potiphar represents the physical nation of Israel under the Old Covenant Law. His removal, from there, to Pharaoh's prison (but, in his case, like unto Christ's, whom he foreshadows, on a false charge) represents the numerologically and historically decipherable (Leviticus 26) 2520-year period of national punishment inflicted, first, upon the even hitherto displaced, but not for much longer (Ezekiel 37:15-28), and "lost" ten tribes of Israel at Samaria (II Kings 18:9-12), and, then, over one-hundred years later, upon the Kingdom of Judah at Jerusalem (II Kings 25), for Israel's breach of the Covenant of Deuteronomy 28. The first half, or 1260 years, of these world-ruling empires, or seven heads, of Revelation 13:1, culminates with the wounding of Rome, the seventh head, or fourth beast (Daniel 7), in 476 A.D.; just as the second 1260 years, from 554 A.D., with the healing of Rome's mortal head wound, by Justinian, to 1814 A.D., with the fall of Napoleon, consist of the "Christianized" or "Holy" Roman Empire, an eighth beast (Revelation 17:11), which both is and is not of the seven, in that it is and is not Christian (Galatians 1:6-9), but fundamentally and ultimately is not (Matthew 6:24) (Mark 9:38-50) (Revelation 3:15-17; 18:4). . . . Moreover, this eighth beast is, not only on the seventh head, but is also an image or reflection of the original beast, with still another seven heads and ten horns. Charlemagne, for instance, is, as the third horn and first head on the resurrected or eighth beast, a mirror image of Nebuchadnezzar; while, at the other end, Napoleon is a mirror image of Alexander the Great, and Hitler is an image of Antiochus Epiphanes. Most intriguingly, though, just as there is no head like unto the seventh, there is no head like unto the seventh of the seventh (Daniel 7:7). With the fall of Napoleon, is to be found the benchmark date of the restoration of the birthright promise to Israel, originally bestowed, by God, through Jacob (Israel), to his two half-Egyptian grandsons (the sons of Joseph), Ephraim and Manasseh, the "Great Nation" and "Company of Nations" (British Commonwealth) existing today (Genesis 48). The concept of American Manifest Destiny is biblically-rooted, but also bitterly betrayed by those blessed and honored with the duty of fulfilling it, as a virtuously magnanimous example and inspiration to the world! Because of this tragically modern repetition of the ancient breaking of the Covenant by Israel, the Birthright Nations shall again be taken captive, but, this time, for 2520 days instead of years, divided, again, into two 1260-day intervals (Revelation 13:5), which structurally reflect the 2520-year intervals, but in reverse order. The "Man of Sin," in II Thessalonians 2:1-8, who was finally revealed, when the explicitly pagan Roman Empire had been moved out of the way, ruled for 1260 years. Currently, she (Rome) is a widow (Revelation 18:7), minus her "Holy Roman Emperor" upon whom to ride. However, She shall be uniquely, overshadowingly preeminent, once again, when the ancient beast rises, one last time, over the ashes of the Birthright Nations. . . . In that particular vein, here's just a small structural indication of how history repeats itself, but not exactly in the same ways, although unaccidentally close enough--here--to be Divinely-instructive, teleologically as well as axiologically! Compare Hitler's invasion and carving up of Czechoslovakia to the current occupation of Iraq; just as Iran shall be, for America, what Poland had been, for Hitler, and Germany--and the world! Obviously, then, Joseph's removal from prison in Egypt, and appointment by Pharaoh as the second most powerful man in Egypt, represents the crushing of the head of the eighth beast, in 1814, and the reinstatement of the ancient Birthright Promise to Ephraim and Manasseh, a material and national blessing, to be distinguished from the Scepter Promise to Judah (Genesis 49:8-10). And, of course, the shortly-upcoming dissolution of the Birthright Nations (Revelation 12) is anciently symbolized in the Pharaoh who "knew not Joseph," and the bitterly tragic consequences of that! The ancient "Apocalypse" which God, through Moses, had brought upon Egypt, was a type of what shall shortly occur on a global scale, when the seventh seal opens, as it does only once, at the beginning of the latter 1260-day interval shortly to come; while the first six seals open three times, with the last, or "Anti-Typal" opening shortly to occur, at the beginning of the first 1260-day interval. . . . For a continuation of this critique, go to the first sequel to this film, Damien: Omen II.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
I'd Give it an Eleven or Twelve if possible!
Just in case any audience I may be attracting at least suspects, by now, that someone ought to be preparing a looney bin for me, please try to have, as well, if you will but consider being nearly so very kind in the process, not only some good, old-fashioned "teas," and plenty of Beethoven, but also Jack Nicholson, and the Chief, plus Billy and the gang, including, of course, sweet little Candyand the great Scatman Crothers! . . . But Nurse Ratched? Perhaps, on second thought, there may just be some real use for some Thorazine!Although that mindlessly air-headed bimbo who assisted her probably doesn't need any! But that much-too-typical kind of aberration, who couldn't answer Randle Patrick McMurphy's question about the dirty laundry, may be still another issue entirely! . . . He's about the same kind of being who called me the Devil, and tossed me out callously on my ear, from a fundamentalist denomination, one barren night, six years ago, when I'd felt desperate enough to turn even to the "likes" of their kind, again; and all that, simply because he couldn't handle the truththat I Corinthians 9 does speak, among other related things, aboutmoney! . . . Good Lord, it's "almost" enough to drive even me back to the Mother of my Roots, despite an "allergy" about as "violent" as Damien's! And I suppose that, given how completely so many things have been symbolically, ever-mystifyingly, and just as cleverly turned back over, entirely on their heads, including the world itself (Acts 17:6), you by now have all the "real evidence" you need, right there alone, against me! . . . But, then, just check it out yourselves, if you don't know it alreadyfor at least the one is openly calling the other "The Devil," too; which would alone serve to "embarrassingly" necessitate, and, thus, all-the-more-solidly reinforce the most basically mutual feelings here!Which is all-the-more warranted, even by the likes of these two, against one-another, "merely" quite symbolically due to how "highly doubtful," to say the very least, it is that either of these two "Judas Goats" (and they both ought to know!) shall soon be burying Billy on Holy Ground, while the Chief is being hunted down like a dog, by the dogs, with shoot-on-sight-to-kill orders, no questions asked! . . . On the other hand, though, Tony Curtis did one of the cleverest Public Service Announcements I've ever been told about, many years ago, at least for as long as it had been permitted to remain on the air. He simply said, with that little pause, in the middle, and an accompanying "twinkle" in his eye, "I don't smokecigarettesthat is!" It's a real wonder they haven't gone witch-hunting, by now, after cigars and pipes, too!Or, have they, after-all?For, again, after-all, at least which one, if not both, could possibly have been meant? . . . By the way, I don't require any behavior modification; that is, unless, of course, your real intent is, after-all, to turn me into what Malcolm McDowell had originally been, and finally become, once again!About as radically as such a procedure would have to be accomplished at all in my case! And I'm only beginning to "touch up" this particular painting, along with the last one, and so many others!--Unless somebody is at least nice enough to even--let melet-alone tell meperhaps even the way they did Barry Champlain--once he'd so eloquently and unbearably unmasked all of them completely--to flake off! . . . In the Spirit of Elijah (although you can just as easily call me Constantine, too, violent cough and all, in the very middle of this Religiously All-Encompassing Matrix!--At least until you soon have the closest thing to a Bruce Almighty on your hands!--Never-mind even the Incredibly Indestructible Hulk!), Richard O'Donnell
Revenge of the Nerds (1984)
Timely Social Satire, but Certainly No Comedy!!!
I had nothing but hell, every year in school, from both ends: First, those in "authority," who permitted my kind to be savagely assaulted, by, secondly, a majority of "peers" who literally needed bullwhips applied to their backs; but who were never disciplined, since those in "authority" were too busy threatening my kind (among other things, the most conveniently easy to handle!), if we ever dared think of defensively fighting back! . . . Hitler, too, had encouraged such bullying, to either "weed out" or "toughen" the "weak," although I would have to give even if not especially him at least enough credit to where, much more probably, no such double standard would have been so "piously," rancorously enforced, under his jurisdiction! . . . The physical education instructors, especially, were always emphasizing militarism, and encouraging their closest friends among the students to relentlessly pursue their favorite sadistic pastime, of systematically destroying the self-images of every "nerd" on campus, so as to feed off the condition of degradation which resulted! . . . Moreover, most females, who otherwise whine about "brutes," are characteristically at the vanguard of this persecution; until it's hardly any wonder that so many males symbiotically cleave, sexually, to other males, where they can both play the female role, with relation to one-another! Many females also aspire to being men, while feeling smugly certain they can have it both ways! . . . Such "cleverly amusing satire" may, however, only succeed, overall, at "unoffensively" smoothing out too many of the "roughest edges!" Thus, for a much more grimly candid portrayal of the kinds of damage people succeed at doing to one-another, until it's sometimes vomited right back out, Charles Bronson's "Ten to Midnight" deserves much more scrutiny! Personally, I thank God, Unto This Very Day, that, Unlike Warren Stacey (Gene Davis), I Shall Always Continue, as I Always Have, to "Aspire To Being An Angel!!!". . . However, it's actually James Dean, in "Rebel Without a Cause," which is my own much more realistically normative "Cup of Tea!" I struggled, in school, and at home, with exactly the same problems! The details of what Jim Stark had to endure, internally, too, as the kind of person he was, were all very accurately portrayed, with relation to me; save, that is, for his most tragically climactic experience, in the middle, as well as the hopefully promising ending. "Parenthetically," Plato (All Remember Sal Mineo, Don't They?), too, was a Dismally Unheeded Warning, Even To This Very Day, and Despite So Many More Of Them Now! Moreover, I Had To Experience What Plato Felt, Too; But, Again, Thank God, Not The Kind Of Thing He Finally Ended Up Doing!!! . . . Even My later experience, as Cal, in "East of Eden," shall continue, Thank God (minus any doubt about what He Wills!), keeping me as intact as it did him, since I haven't yet reached the very end of it. But, as for "Giant?" I'm just lucky enough, at least, never to have had the money--or the racism!!! For another glaring view of this kind of problem, compare the difference between the Jonas Cord, Sr., of Brian Keith, in Nevada Smith, and Leif Erickson, in The Carpetbaggers! Consider, also, a very old man, in Amadeus, who never could quite grasp the answer to a question which had been perpetually in front of his very nose! Burt Lancaster's Robert Stroud, the "Birdman of Alcatraz," was a more valuable gift of longevity, bestowed by Woodrow Wilson; although Cordell Walker, Texas Ranger, wasn't so lucky with a little boy he had just about talked out of suicide, before the boy slipped accidentally and tragically to his death! Many continue to ask why the Lord, if there really is one, after-all, permits such senselessly wasteful tragedies to occur; while, at the same time, He's undoubtedly asking why almost everybody permits such expensively vital lessons to go no less thoroughly to waste! Kirk Douglas said it well, several years ago, in a television ad: Prospective suicides don't really want to die, they just want to stop the pain!!! But as for Mark Twain's Sid Sawyer? There's real nerd, the kind who is just looking for trouble.
The A-Team (1983)
Three Cheers for the Great A-Team!!!
Three Cheers, for the great A-Team, and George Peppard, first of all; when it comes to the difference between, in "Mr. T's" vernacular, a Real Man, and a "Real"--Whatever! Moreover, Jonas Cord, Jr., from "The Carpetbaggers," was one of Peppard's most inspiring roles; regardless of how much even he finally needed to be "cut down" at least a couple of notches, by the same kind of Real Man (Alan Ladd) who also played the lead "Junior," but, this time, of himself (Steve McQueen), along with his good friend, Jonas Cord, Sr. (Brian Keith), in the marvelously well-conceived, movingly-retroactive sequel to this film, Nevada Smith! . . . And, of course, Clubber Lang needed to be "cut down" a couple of notches, too; although I know the feeling well, when, in the first fight, he kept screaming, with every punch, "You made me wait, Balboa!" I only shudder to realize against Whom we were actually fighting, somewhat like unto the occasion when Jacob was wresting with you-know-Whom for his new "Name Change!" God forbid that we should make Him wait nearly as long in return, for the amount of time He'd given us to get in such really good shape (Revelation 3:7-8)! . . . In the A-Team, they're both "on the lam" with a very impressive entourage of rogues, whose swagger is, quite believably, buoyantly, nothing less than second-to-none!--Even Next to Errol Flynn, in Robin Hood!--And that's going almost to the very top!--Save for the fact that Robin Hood was much closer to, in particular, the real "throat" of the problem! . . . Moreover, in such strikingly, redeemingly real-life contrast, with most equally "Real"--Whatevers, even "Mr. T" had a point, many years ago, about being "Born Again!"--At least, perhaps, until he'd far-enough surpassed most of his "spiritual competitors," especially the most "sweet-smelling" varieties, even so much more dynamically enough to where he probably no longer continues to say, "I don't like that term, fool!" He even very recently, graciously, and freely, of the Spirit, made note of one of my own favorite lines, from long, long ago; about how most "parishoners," after having "praised the Lord" for an entire hour or so together, will characteristically, thereafter, threaten to ram one-another down with their cars, while trying so very "courteously," and "tender-heartedly," to exit the parking lot first! . . . "Mr. T," particularly, would get a real "kick" out of the following "Joke," from the Reverend Ralph Woodrow, if he hasn't heard it already. There's a meeting, between the members of a Baptist and a Presbyterian (or is it Methodist? Whichever, it doesn't matter!) "congregation," for the purpose of uniting the two, because both "congregations" had decided they were too small. But, then, the problem of what to call the combined grouping could not be solved. Finally, they decided to "compromise," by calling it the Christian Church; at which point, an old woman screamed out, "I've been a Baptist all my life, and nobody's going to make a Christian out of me!" . . . It's like in that original Star Trek episode, where a computer named "Landru" had control of "The Body!" Maybe that's about the best they could do even together, but they're doing just as good-a-job separately! Most today unfortunately need to learn, the hard way, what a hypocritical rather than redeeming world of difference there is, between genuinely laying one's sins on the Lord, and dumping them upon a favorite scapegoat such as Judas Iscariot! Also, does "Mr. T" need even one mere guess, as to which of these characters most resembles the real "Lonesome Rhodes?"--Who really ended up being hated for having been as sadly correct as well as wrong as he was, concerning his most fervently-devoted admirers! In fact, how many, even of his harshest critics, can begin to tell the difference, in anything but Babbitt's favor, between him and Elmer Gantry?--Or, for that matter, an inspiring joy to the heart such as Robert Duvall's The Apostle! No less positively, I just finished watching Glenn Ford, again, in The Fastest Gun Alive! Now there was a Real Congregation! Moreover, what a long, barren gap, between Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott, in Ride the High Country, and Captain James T. Kirk and Mr. Spock!--Except for Dr. Richard Kimble, The Fugitive; who, despite competition as close as Rocky vs. Creed II, has always been my favorite!--Even if he did end up dropping me, so very fast and hard, along with John Wayne's accompanying "jab" at Van Gogh, that I enjoyed Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid so much more--almost as much as I still do my favorite--Champion!--And his Paths of Glory, particularly, as well as Town Without Pity.
Pressure Point (1962)
The Great Bobby Darin!!!
This is one of the greatest films of all time, and Bobby Darin was truly a masterful artist! I still watch, or, more accurately, study, his inspiringly gifted performance! Nobody else could have done any more to honor the part he played, just as he had been accompanied by the most impressively, realistically believable cast; but particularly in the flashback scenes, going back to his childhood. Not only must the acting be applauded as top-notch, but also every aspect of the strictly technical contributions; all woven together into such a superlative art form, as well as a deeply educational experience. . . . The writers, in particular, very cogently nailed down one of the most compelling themes of the film; where Darin points out, to Poitier, that America has the latter so confused that he continues to sing, "My country, 'Tis of Thee," while they're walking all over him! Poitier's most sensitive "Pressure Point" is really touched by that; and, despite the profoundest truths Poitier utilizes, to "neutralize" this very observation, one can plainly see the extent to which he is very dishonestly, with himself, and resentfully, victimizingly attempting to "cope" with it! Even the other psychiatrists at the prison only served to confirm the truth of Darin's contention; which remains just as true-in-itself, regardless of how disingenuously Darin proceeded to capitalize upon it! . . . As with James Dean, it "almost" feels "as if" certain people are symbolically fated to die young, as the kind who are a bit too pure for this world; and, thus, Divinely-ordained for protection from so many of its characteristically corrupting influences (Isaiah 57:1-2). Moreover, their early deaths sometimes serve the equally constructive purpose of "showcasing" them for the kind of "immortality," to popular perception, which should act, much more than it ordinarily does, to the intended benefit of all, exactly as Darin had so deservedly and successfully wished! . . . At any rate, Bobby Darin has made an everlasting imprint upon me! Had he been born for nothing but this role, it would have been no less superlatively worthy of the effort! And, speaking, again, of the good dying young, perhaps even "Giant" had served as a kind of "hypothetical preview" of what could have happened to Dean; although I still wish, as much as they both would have, that Divine Providence had left them in our midst just a little longer. . . . The only other currently relevant figure I'll explicitly mention here is Elvis Presley, who held his own, in a most magnificently meaningful way, with early greats such as "Wild in the Country," and, also, as Deke Rivers, in "Loving You!" As with Brando, however, Presley had been "showcased," much less "hypothetically," after the fashion of "Giant!" It would be a big mistake to regard any of these popularly-immortalized legends as mere accidents . . . Yet, to what Purpose as well as Design? Dostoyevsky said it one way, in just a single stroke: "If there is no God, then all is permissible!" Even Nietzsche, who claimed Dostoyevsky was one of the very few from whom he had anything to learn, very tragically, fatalistically took extra special note, no doubt, of this particular observation; until finally collapsing, about twelve years before his very end; from the most strenuously-insoluble dilemma; and the scathing "moralic acid," as he called it, which also helped to purifyingly burn his own most blessedly-agonizing soul to the very marrow; as he quite symbolically, surrogately, foreshadowingly, prophetically bore the sins of the shortly-upcoming Hitler!!!--Of whom Richard Basehart was so magnificently the best, despite even some of the otherwise most difficult quality of competition available, but who nevertheless shouldn't have even bothered, here!!! Try General Tanz (Peter O'Toole), along with Wolf Larsen (Edward G. Robinson), and even a special role by Adam West; if you care to understand why certain kinds of people are so much closer as well as further away from God than most, who feel so uniquely qualified to judge them! . . . Nietzsche also went into his coma the same year Hitler had been born, just as they had both died at "virtually" the same age! But Hitler was only the main symbol, predestined to go down tragically in flames. There were, however, others, whom Nietzsche meant more accurately. Castro was a better example, and Elmer Gantry even better yet, along with Billy Jack; but John W. Burns ("Jack," for short) shall always be one of my favoritecowboys!Or, even more accuratelymy very favorite!--Just as Superman himself, for that matter, was Zarathustra's kind of--Superman--too!!! But, then, Nietzsche, by his own admission, had also been too much of a poetically romantic dreamer, concerning every kind of possibility short only of Great Caesar's Ghost; despite even his acute awareness that there are fundamentally, ultimately only one of two ways to go, particularly into the twentieth century; including what could even have become of a Lucas McCain, in the form of The Mad Bomber!--Although, had anyone really harmed Mark, they would have had him to deal with, even in the nineteenth!!!
Wild in the Streets (1968)
Great Film!!!
It was Jimmy Fergus who initially brought out the "very best" in Max, who met the former so abruptly on the former's own terms; but, as the kind of modern-day Caligula lingering not too deeply beneath the flimsiest of surfaces in Max, at least when the wrong buttons were even quite innocently and inadvertently pushed; but, particularly, by the kind of "legacy," from "Stiffs," who "live high, and fat, with all the money!"--Or, "at least," given their most miserably poor driving habits, in a way which would have produced the same "high-intensity" reaction, especially from James Dean, and, in fact, did, on many occasions. . . . This is a dynamically thought provoking script, from beneath its more "cultishly caricaturistic" surface; as one of the most timely and relevant yet marginalized and underrated satires of social commentary ever produced, even despite its "grossly absurd improbabilities." . . . Moreover, as for all those "Old Tigers?" Maximilian, baby, couldn't have been more wrong! Just wait and see how well one of the oldest of them is about to "fly!" Yet, nobody but Jones could have carried this lead so effectively, with the kind of professionally well-polished finesse he exhibited. He was truly fated to assume this particular role, just as he blended in so smoothly with the character of Frost, that it's about anybody's guess, from far enough away, as to where he ended, and Max began. . . . Only Shelley Winters had been as "archetypally" irreplaceable here--Along with her Sally LeRoy!--and, in total, an entire cast which it was extremely fortunate didn't have to be replaced. The songs were no less movingly, inspiringly performed as well as composed. For instance, the thought of seeing such a dynamically new paradigm envelop the land, "like a fresh, new breeze," had been something quite overwhelmingly, urgently, inseparably "top-of-the-line!" At least one unsung line is more than applicable today, which goes, "The only thing that blows your mind when you're thirty is getting guys to kill other guys; only in another city, another country, where you don't see it; they don't know anything about it!" . . . I was hardly the first to notice the close physical resemblance of Jones to James Dean. I believe he missed one of his greatest opportunities, and commands upon the scope of his talent, by not having portrayed the role of James Dean himself, in place, for just one instance among others, of a Stephen McHattie--who had no business in the part, either! . . . As for his differences from James Dean, which do run much more than "skin-deep," even in ways which need never have detracted from the uniqueness of the skills of Jones, had Dean been permitted, in this sense, to reduce him to nothing but a "clone?" James Dean had a genuineness, an existential depth, which is not at all the easiest thing in the world to merely imitate!--Save, that is, and short only of the real thing, to the extent that a level of "method acting," on a par with, say, Kirk Douglas, in his purely superficial though movingly convincing portrayal of Vincent Van Gogh, had been adequately at the command of Jones. . . . The only other real waste, next to that of Jones, here, is that Charles Laughton would have played the role of Socrates, as superlatively as he did Gracchus, in Spartacus! As for Jones, however, he did, nevertheless, get a very good "Shot at the Title," of being Dean, at "Home," or, more accurately, in the words of Dean himself, at the "Zoo," and, of course, again, after a car crash, during the opening scenes of Wild in the Streets! . . . Just thank God, if even most of you believe in the right one, that Wild in the Streets is only a fantasy; along with its logically necessary sequel, Children of the Corn, and a gradually renewing expansion of the "Legal Age!" However, perhaps nothing at all, even in such a dismally-conceived future, could possibly surpass, for instance, the reportedly true as well as normatively realistic history, of a film such as Mark of the Devil, with Herbert Lom!--Or, as Nietzsche said, Progress is merely a modern idea, that is to say, a false idea!
Exorcist: The Beginning (2004)
Exorcist: The Beginning
Exorcist: The Beginning is an existentially-moving, excellently-performed portrayal of Father Lancaster Merrin, whose faith had given way to skepticism, disillusionment, and despair, upon having encountered some of the worst evil in the human soul!--That is, until, ironically enough, this same faith had been restored--by what Sarah had well-described, and experienced herself, as the clearest view of God--from Hell!!! Or, as Burt Lancaster said, during one of his most passionately fiery sermons, in Elmer Gantry, "How do I know there's a mercifully loving God? Because I've seen the Devil plenty of times!" Ordinarily, Satan takes care of one such as Father Merrin with the assistance of creatures such as Father Barre, from Ken Russell's The Devils, and their cleverly-disingenuous capacity to emphasize, in the words of Barre, "That what you see here is, not dignity, but pride, unrepentant pride!" . . . It's tragically and understandably characteristic, particularly with relation, ironically enough, to the goodness of human nature, to view the greatest evil in it as well, as virtual "proof" that there cannot possibly be any God, consistently at all, philosophically speaking, with even such a possibility, let-alone the most woundingly shattering experiences of its actual reality to help burn in the point more completely, sentiently as well. But, when Satan finally unmasks his supernatural qualities, for all the world to see (Revelation 13:13-15), it will be for the well-calculated purpose of further bolstering Father Barre's position; which too many prefer to believe, anyway, despite the perhaps equal number of agnostics whom Satan shall thereby help forfeit to God in the process (Revelation 7:9-17)!!! . . . When Satan makes his very identity as well as existence so undeniably clear (which is why he "hides" himself, as a generally, modernly, agnostically "civilized" rule, but not to those already primitively superstitious enough to be more effectively, unedifiably manipulatable in the opposite way; just as Pharaoh's magicians, in The Ten Commandments, only "helped" him to believe, even more firmly, that he must have been "really on to something!"), it is impossible for any coherently thinking person to avoid, not only concurring with Burt Lancaster, as, again, the dynamically though simplistically, negatively misunderstandable Elmer Gantry, when he also similarly said, to his good friend, so superlatively played by Arthur Kennedy, that, "If there's a real hell, then it follows there must be a real heaven," but also neutralizing rather than enhancing Satan's effectiveness. Even Roddy McDowall, in Fright Night, quite glaringly as well as "amusingly" serves to illustrate this point; in conjunction with the slickest, most dynamically-animated vampire I've ever seen, played so masterfully by Chris Sarandon! . . . Although, where, again, even "civilized" people go, allegedly true tales such as The Amityville Horror continue to successfully abound; at indulging one of Satan's favorite pastimes, of convincing people, quite unscripturally, that particularly the murdered dead really do haunt their houses! It's not just intellectual ignorance which causes people to miss the mark, even when they do encounter anything "miraculous," but the basically instinctive will to unholiness (Luke 16:29-31) (James 2:19); even if that will can no longer avoid having to indulge itself, within a Christian frame of reference, by conveniently mistaking Satan's miracles for those of the real God. . . . Of course, the most tragic irony of all, which remains seriously unaddressed in the film, and, thus, even more cleverly because "implicitly" denied in the process; would perhaps have also at least "implicitly" come into somewhat clearer focus, if not, much more likely, prevailingly, overshadowingly, the very opposite (as Rome's very ability to "drive out" the Devil, in his most conveniently, nakedly, and yet even quite "cooperatively untransparent" form, had been so "clearly, undeniably confirmed!"), in terms of Satan's most cleverly sinister capacity to deceive, had the setting of the story been--Rome--rather than Kenya!--II Thessalonians 2:1-12--Galatians 1:6-9!--Revelation 2:12-15--II Corinthians 11:12-15!!!--And numerous other passages which collectively fit together into the most amazingly scriptural pattern! Much more information, on this systematically comprehensive Weltanschauung, and its historically, prophetically teleological unfolding, can be found in Philosophical Letters: The Last Revival, available online.