The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

Last week, I talked about the western film and how, like musicals, I have to be in the right frame of mind to watch one.

As I pointed out last week, when I think of western films, two names immediately come to mind--John Wayne and Clint Eastwood.  I focused on Eastwood specifically, not just as an actor, but as a director.  Over the last 50+ years, he's made a lot of "revisionist" westerns--films like Pale Rider, The Outlaw Josey Wales, and of course Unforgiven--films that were more realistic than the westerns we had seen in decades past.  In Eastwood's films, you couldn't always tell who was good and who was bad by the colour of their hats.  Good guys weren't completely good, bad guys weren't completely bad--there was a certain moral ambiguity all around.

John Wayne's movies, on the other hand--and not just his westerns--featured no such ambiguity.  Concepts like "good" and "bad" were very much defined in black and white--oftentimes they were even filmed that way.

Through the years, Wayne seemed to excel in two film genres--the western and the war film.  If he wasn't on horseback, he was in the trenches keeping America safe overseas.  He was a champion of good old fashioned "American" ("conservative") values, which today comes off as a bit outdated, even kind of corny.

Because I'm on the eccentric side, however, my favourite John Wayne movie is my favourite because it is neither a western nor a war film.  And even though there is some politically incorrect material, particularly his physical treatment of Maureen O'Hara's character as well as clearly outdated male/female relationship dynamics, I tend to look at it as a product of its time--at the very least a product of the time that's depicted in the movie.  In spite of that, O'Hara, who provided the commentary track for the DVD, seemed extremely proud to have been a part of it, even citing it as her favourite of her own movies.

In the film, Wayne plays Sean Thornton, an American boxer who has given up on the sport--we find out later he accidentally killed a man in the ring--who returns to his birthplace in Ireland to live a quiet life.  There he falls in love with Mary Kate Danaher (O'Hara) who lives nearby with her brother Will (Victor McLaglen).  Sean eventually wears down Mary Kate's fiery resolve with some help from Michaleen Oge Flynn, a local matchmaker (played by Barry Fitzgerald, who steals every scene he's in).  Will, however, doesn't like Sean too much and refuses to pay the proper dowry (like I said, outdated male/female relationship dynamics).  This leads to what I believe to be one of the greatest cinematic fistfights of all time--certainly one of the funniest.

I think what really makes it my favourite John Wayne film has nothing to do with any of that.  Director John Ford--who worked with Wayne 14 times and O'Hara five times, three times with both of them together--had a specific vision for the film that was a hard sell to Republic Pictures, but he stuck to his guns and it paid off.

He wanted to shoot the film on location in Ireland, something that was virtually unheard of at the time.  He also wanted to shoot it in Technicolor, which was considerably more expensive than shooting it in black and white.  Republic initially didn't want to do it--given the basic story, they didn't figure anyone would go see the picture, so why put up the added expense for locations and Technicolor?  Ford was insistent and the executives at Republic eventually agreed on the condition that, in exchange, Ford would make a low-budget, black and white western with Wayne and O'Hara that would be guaranteed to make money at the box office--in this case, 1950's Rio Grande.

However, Republic's concerns were ill-founded.  Ford's apparent passion project went on to be nominated for seven Academy Awards including Best Picture and Supporting Actor (McLaglen).  It did win for Best Cinematography--back in the days when there were two cinematography categories, one for colour and one for black and white--and Ford scored his fourth Oscar for Best Director.

My favourite story, however, involves what lengths some directors will go to in order to get what they want out of their actors.  At the end of the film, Mary Kate whispers something in Sean's ear.  He gives her a funny look and then chases her up the hill.  After a few takes, Ford was still not getting the reaction he wanted out of Wayne.  According to O'Hara, Ford told her to whisper something specific in Wayne's ear.  She had some issues with saying it, but she did it anyway.  The look on Wayne's face indicates that he was not expecting that and he inadvertently gave Ford exactly what he was trying to capture.  To this day, no one knows precisely what she said to him and all three of them took that information to their graves.

Released in 1952 and based on a story by Maurice Walsh (adapted for the screen by Frank S. Nugent), this week, please enjoy The Quiet Man.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

I made an interesting discovery some time back.  I realized--and this may not be true for all of you, but it often is for me--that my first exposure to something, especially something musical, is often what sticks with me the most throughout my life.  It often acts as a starting point to discovering other things, even better things, but that first taste of it frequently remains my favourite.

Nowhere is this truer than in jazz.  I remember finding Jimmy Smith's 1962 album Bashin' in my parents' record collection when I was in high school.  On a whim, I put it on the turntable just because I was looking for something new and/or different to listen to.  (For more on this, you can read my post from 25 April of this year.)

Ultimately, that album made me fall in love with not just Jimmy Smith's music, but jazz in general.  You'll likely never find it on a list of the greatest jazz albums of all time--hell, you probably won't even find it on a list of Jimmy Smith's greatest recordings.  But 35 years after discovering it, it's still not only my favourite jazz album, but one of my Top 10 favourite albums of all time.  My mom's old copy of that album is now framed and hangs on my wall.

In college, I used to frequent a shop on the south end of the Ball State campus called The Discount Den.  They sold BSU swag, magazines, slushies, and novelty items.  If I had ten spare dollars, I could usually be found there browsing the CD rack that spanned the length of one wall.  I acquired some of my favourite albums from those racks during my four years of school.

One day, while determining that I needed more jazz in my collection, I happened to stumble upon a CD by saxophonist John Coltrane.  I mostly knew him by reputation as one of the greatest sax players of all time in any genre of music.  FULL DISCLOSURE:  I had (still have, actually) a CD that a family friend gave me called Miles & Coltrane, which was a collection of live recordings that he had done with Miles Davis--I believe as part of Davis's band--in the mid-1950s.  But I really wanted to hear Coltrane leading his own band in the studio.

Like so many other jazz albums I bought at the Den, I was not disappointed.  It got me exploring more of the music he created in his too short life, particularly the albums released for Impulse! Records in the 1960s, most notably his masterpiece, A Love Supreme.  But invariably I keep coming back to this album.  It may not be his best remembered album, but it's still my favourite because it was what I heard first.  It's funny how things stick with you like that.

Recorded in 1957 and released in January of 1958, this was Coltrane's only album released for Blue Note Records.  His band included trumpeter Lee Morgan, trombonist Curtis Fuller, pianist Kenny Drew, double bassist Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones on drums.  Produced by Alfred Lion and engineered and mastered by the great Rudy Van Gelder, please enjoy John Coltrane with what I feel is the highly underrated and underappreciated Blue Train.

(GEEK NOTE:  Some of the more eagle-eared listeners may notice the title track for its use in the 1992 Cameron Crowe film Singles.  I know I was excited when I first caught it just because in a film full of contemporary Seattle grunge music that I didn't really listen to, here was a song I recognized.  I'm still bummed it was left off the soundtrack album.)

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

 Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin):  Nobody does westerns anymore.

John Chambers (John Goodman):  It's ancient Troy.

Siegel:  If it's got horses in it, it's a western.

--from the movie Argo, 2012

Last week, I wrote about musicals and how, even though I'm a fan, I can't just pop any musical into my blu-ray player and enjoy it.  With one or two exceptions, I typically have to be in the right frame of mind to watch one.

When I think about it, there's really only one other genre of film that I have to be in the right mood for--and that is the western.  I've tried to understand why.  Maybe it's the background which always seems so stark and empty, yet at the same time really bright.  It's like a prerequisite for a western that it must be set in some bleak, uninhabited area with lots of wide, open spaces and dirt.  Maybe there's a small town on a dirt road with a dry goods store, a saloon, and a whorehouse a couple of miles from where the protagonist lives on a farm or a ranch.  Normally, this sort of thing doesn't do anything for me.

Again, I have to reiterate that I do really like westerns.  If nothing else, I deeply admire it as a distinctly American art form.  I just have to be in the right mood to watch one.  I've found that the best time to watch them is on a Sunday morning or early Sunday afternoon.  I find that time of day/week seems to put me in the right mood for a western.  (This is also an ideal time for epics, war films, and anything starring Steve McQueen.)

I should clarify that there are two exceptions--I can watch Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and Blazing Saddles anytime without having to be in the right mood for a western.  You can read my thoughts on Saddles here.

When discussing westerns, two actors immediately spring to mind--John Wayne and Clint Eastwood.  Of the two, I'm a bigger fan of Eastwood, probably because he clearly appreciates the craft of filmmaking.  He doesn't just act, he also produces, directs, and in the last couple of decades has even composed his own scores.  In fact, Warner Brothers even named one of their scoring stages after him.

I sat down to watch this film recently, partially because it's one of my favourite Eastwood films--as I understand it, it's also one he's especially proud of--but also because it's celebrating its 50th anniversary this year and I'm kind of a dork about things like that.  I was even kind of in a western mood.  I hadn't watched it in over a decade and I had forgotten how good it really was.

In the film, Eastwood plays a simple Missouri farmer whose wife and son are murdered in front of him by renegade Union soldiers during the Civil War.  He then joins a group hellbent on vengeance.  After the Confederacy surrenders, his group is offered amnesty, but he refuses to join them.  He watches from a distance as they are double-crossed and executed.

Assuming correctly that they'll be coming for him, he goes on the run trying to help one member of his group (played by Sam Bottoms) who was wounded trying to escape the slaughter.  Along the way, he reluctantly picks up stragglers--a couple of Native Americans, some settlers from Kansas, and even a stray dog.  They ultimately band together to protect each other from bounty hunters and hostile Union soldiers.

Eastwood not only acted, but he also produced and directed the film.  Based on the novel Gone To Texas by Forrest Carter (you can Google him if you're so inclined), the film co-stars Chief Dan George, Sondra Locke, Geraldine Keams, Paula Trueman, John Vernon, Bill McKinney, and Will Sampson.  This week, please enjoy The Outlaw Josey Wales.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that governments don't live together--people live together.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

Based on a recent experience, I wanted to continue my lifelong exploration of music--really pop culture in general--as a religion and spiritual practice.

Last Friday, after I got off work, I decided I needed to look for some cheap CDs, so I took a trip to Orbit Music, a local record store in my area.  They deal primarily in used merchandise, although they do have a lot of new vinyl.  They also sell a lot of posters and incense and various other accoutrements that gives the place a kind of '60s head shop vibe, which I strangely appreciate.  It reminds me of a couple of stores I used to frequent in high school that, sadly, no longer exist.

After seriously debating whether or not I could afford special "Record Store Day" releases by John Prine and The New York Dolls, I grabbed a used Judy Collins record that I didn't remember my mother having when I was a kid and started to browse the CDs.

I went into the store with a list of titles that I feel I should acquire.  Strangely enough, I found none of them.  But, as you might have guessed, I found a number of other things that I didn't even realize I should have, including two John Hiatt albums, a collection of 1950s rockabilly (in spite of the fact that it didn't include anything by Wanda Jackson), and Double Fantasy by John and Yoko, which I had bought on vinyl some years back and quite enjoyed.

One album in particular caught my attention.  It was a Brandi Carlile CD, shrink-wrapped and in one of those anti-theft lock boxes.  In the back of my mind, I want to say my sister had recommended it to me.  I've been a fan of Carlile's for many years, but for some reason, I never got around to checking out this particular album.  The price was under ten bucks, so I thought--what the hell?

When I got home, I immediately began the arduous ritual of uploading the CDs to my iTunes library and potentially my phone/jukebox later on.  This involves a thorough examination of liner notes, assuming there are any.  (Songwriters are important, people!  Songs don't just materialize out of thin air!  Give credit where credit is due!  I need first and last names--don't just give me last names or last names with first initials and make me Google everything!)

I had presumed, apparently erroneously, that the Brandi Carlile CD was new based on the shrink wrap and lock box.  When I removed the wrapper and opened it up, I found a newspaper article tucked inside along with the booklet of lyrics and notes.  Even more impressive was the fact that it appeared to be hand-signed by Ms. Carlile herself!  I even did a Google image search of "Brandi Carlile signature" to compare.  If it's not her signature, it's a really good forgery!

I know I have a tendency to romanticize physical media and the joy of shopping for music in a brick-and-mortar establishment.  I know it tends to drive my family and friends nuts sometimes.  But this is why I do it.  You never know what you might find in an actual record store.  When you stream music, you already tend to know what you want--or some algorithm picks it out for you, based on what you've previously played.  There's no algorithm in the record store--or, if there is, I've certainly done my best to keep it guessing over the years.  There's more of an opportunity for surprise (although, apparently no Edwyn Collins).  Honestly, the whole experience was not just better, but fulfilling on an emotional and, dare I say, spiritual level.

I read somewhere once that a vinyl record is a hand-written love letter.  A digital download is a text.  Talk about romanticizing!  But I agree with it wholeheartedly.  If nothing else, you can't autograph a digital download.  (I guess that makes a CD a typewritten love letter?  Eh... I'm cool with that.)

Consequently, this week, please enjoy one of my new favourite albums, Brandi Carlile's 2015 release The Firewatcher's Daughter.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

I've found that, to the best of my knowledge, there really isn't a genre of movie I don't like or, at the very least, appreciate to some degree.  There are some genres that I enjoy with more frequency than others.  I'm typically drawn to comedies or action films.  But I also like dramas, romantic movies, classics, foreign films, silent movies, science fiction, and period pieces.

There are two types of films that even though I enjoy and have a deep admiration for them, I have to be in the right mood to watch them.  I thought I'd focus on these over the next couple of weeks.

This week, I wanted to focus on the musical.  I really love the idea of people randomly bursting into song for no apparent reason, often accompanied by dancing.  It doesn't happen in real life, as much as I occasionally try--just to keep those around me on their toes.  But because of that whole suspension of disbelief thing, I don't find myself watching them as often as I might watch... let's say a 007 thriller.  With the possible exception of The Blues Brothers (which most people don't actually consider to be a musical anyway), as I said, I have to be in the right mood.

During Hollywood's "Golden Age," musicals were a lot more common than they are today.  So many performers at that time were not just good actors, but they could sing and dance as well.  Today, when a musical comes along, the actors make a point of doing their own singing and dancing often going through months of rigorous training to pull it off and make us say things like, "Wow!  I didn't know Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone could sing and dance!"  (Gosling also learned how to play the piano for La La Land, but who's keeping track?)

I've also noticed over the last couple of decades, a lot of non-musical films being adapted into stage musicals, frequently on Broadway--some of them later adapted again into musical movies.  As much as I enjoyed the movie Legally Blonde, did we really need a musical adaptation of it?  I think the one that finally put me over the edge was Evil Dead: The Musical.  (And no, I'm not making that up!)

This got me thinking about Hollywood movies that should be turned into musicals.  Can you imagine Lethal Weapon: The Musical?  I can just picture Sgt. Roger Murtaugh tap dancing across the stage singing "I'm Too Old For This Shit" rather than just muttering it in exhaustion under his breath.  Or a musical version of The Godfather in which Don Vito Corleone dramatically--even operatically--belts out, "I'm Gonna Make Him an Offer He Can't Refuse."

I actually started writing a couple such songs.  Somewhere--and I wish I knew where--I have lyrics to a potentially country/cowboy ballad titled "The Dude Abides" from The Big Lebowski: The Musical (which also features that other showstopper, "Nobody Fucks With the Jesus!").  I've got about three verses, but it needs more--at least a bridge.

The other one I've started writing is a piece called "He Doesn't Act Like a Scientist (He's More Like a Game Show Host)" from Ghostbusters: The Musical.  This is Dana Barrett's big number that she would sing after Peter Venkman checks her out--I mean... ahem... checks out her apartment.  The real key is the casting of Dana--not only would the person have to be able to act and sing and potentially dance, but also she would have to be able to play the cello.  Again, the song needs a lot more than what I've written so far.

For some reason, I found myself in something of a musical mood last week and decided to watch this week's film, which I hadn't seen in at least 20 years.  In hindsight, what made it stand out to me is that it is entirely... well, musical.  Most musicals have a song and dance number and then the characters actually talk to each other, providing exposition and advancing the plot until it's time to sing and dance again.  That was not the case with this week's film.  Everything is sung--even by people you would not expect to hear singing.

The movie was based on Pete Townshend's groundbreaking "rock opera" which The Who had released as their fourth album in 1969.  In 1975, director Ken Russell adapted it into a movie.  In the story, Tommy Walker (played here by The Who's vocalist Roger Daltrey) experiences a major trauma at a very young age which causes him to shut down becoming "deaf, dumb, and blind."   Tommy eventually learns the fine art of playing pinball which awakens him allowing him to essentially become a religious cult leader.

The film stars Ann-Margret as Tommy's mother, Oliver Reed as her lover, Elton John as the Pinball Wizard, Eric Clapton as the Preacher, Who drummer Keith Moon as Uncle Ernie, Paul Nicholas as Cousin Kevin, Jack Nicholson as the Doctor, and Tina Turner as the Acid Queen and includes music from The Who.

Pete Townshend received an Oscar nomination for Best Original Song Score and/or Adaptation.  Ann-Margret also received a Best Leading Actress nomination (and won a Golden Globe) for her performance as Tommy's mother and, according to imdb.com, she is "the only actress ever Oscar-nominated in the lead category for a performance which is (save for one single word) entirely sung."  This week, please enjoy Tommy.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill 

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

If you really want to celebrate something, make it stand apart.

I've noticed that we tend to denote the passage of time, especially major anniversaries, in increments of five or ten.  In the last couple of months, we celebrated the 250th anniversary of the birth of the U.S. and somberly commemorated the 25th anniversary of 9/11.  This year also marks the 85th anniversary of Pearl Harbor, the 175th anniversary of the founding of the New York Times, as well as anniversaries divisible by five of the release of various albums, films and television programs--I've even highlighted a few of them in these weekly "sermons."

Admittedly, this does make it easier to keep track of time (especially when estimating)--if you're into that sort of thing, I don't judge.  Although, I do find it comical that, in spite of this, we--at least we Americans--still refuse to embrace metric.  Again--not judging.  I'm just as guilty as any American.

I always appreciate it when anniversaries are observed that stand out because they aren't divisible by five and/or ten.  I recently saw a video on Facebook advertising an upcoming re-issue of a classic album.  This week's album is celebrating its 49th anniversary with a new edition featuring unreleased music and I couldn't be more pleased.

If nothing else, it prompted me to listen to the album again.  I had almost forgotten how good it is.  The artist's music--especially his early recordings--puts me in a weird state of mind and being.  I'd call it "transportative," but I've only really been listening to him for about 25 years.  It's not like I grew up listening to him.  Yet, somehow, the albums of that era make me feel like I'm in that era again--even if I don't remember hearing it at the time.

I first became familiar with him because of his collaboration on a Paul McCartney album in 1989.  But it was that album (Flowers in the Dirt) that inspired me to check out more of his work.  In the years since, I've grown to appreciate his ability to go from classical to country to punk rock so effortlessly.  If nothing else, it's given me a greater appreciation of my own eclectic tastes.  So this week, in honour of its 49th anniversary, please enjoy Elvis Costello's 1977 debut album My Aim Is True. 

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week! (One From the Vault!)

Today is the anniversary of a key night in my life.  I posted the following to Facebook on this day in 2020 describing it in great detail.  In 2002, former Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman published a book titled Rolling With the Stones.  A couple years ago, I took a couple of pictures of page 489 which I've included at the end. 

 

Forgive me but this week's album is a bit on the nostalgic and sentimental side. It was on this day in 1989 that I attended my first rock concert. I was fifteen years old and it's one of those father/son moments that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

 

My dad and I, along with some friends from our church, went to the Rolling Stones concert at Cardinal Stadium in Louisville, Kentucky. That's right--a church group attended a Stones concert. It sounds like the setup to a bad joke. We may as well have walked into a bar.

 

It was a big deal. Many people had written off the Stones as being a bit past their prime. After 25 years, the band had seemed to fall apart over egos and sometimes rather public spats between Mick Jagger and Keith Richards that still continue to this day. It was their first tour in seven years (it had been eight since they had toured the U.S.). In hindsight, I find it interesting that everyone seemed to harp on their ages. Today, in 2020, jokes about the Rolling Stones being old... are... well, old.

 

Before the show, we were waiting for the opening act (Living Colour) to take the stage. I smelled something in the air that smelled to me like a cross between cigarette smoke and manure. Dad looked at me and said, "Do you smell that?" I nodded and asked what it was. He said, "That's grass. Don't inhale. Let me do that." It was the first time I ever smelled marijuana. I didn't understand how anyone could smoke something that smelled like that. Consequently, I've never tried it myself.

 

I wasn't that impressed by Living Colour. The most exciting moment of their performance for me was when the lead singer laid down on the stage and everyone in the band took a running leap over him. In fact, I recently checked out the album they released at that time ("Vivid") and it still doesn't do anything for me.

 

The sun finally went down over Louisville. There was a buzz among the crowd and you could tell that it was time for the main event. We could hear some pre-recorded introductory music. Then a wall of flames shot into the sky and when it disappeared there on the stage was my favourite band tearing into their hit "Start Me Up." A perfect way to open a show.

 

The highlight of the evening for me was when they did my theme song, "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Mick Jagger just sang, "You can't..." and 35,000 people sang back the rest of the line. It was the first time I ever felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself.

 

The one person I felt bad for was Keith Richards. At one point, Mick took a break and Keith sang a couple of songs. It was the only time during the whole show that the audience sat down in their seats. It was sad really. I actually think Keith is a better singer than Mick.

 

As a fifteen-year-old kid, I didn't have a lot of money for souvenirs. In fact, I had no money for souvenirs. Consequently, I still have my ticket stubs (not that you can read them anymore), the boxes from my first White Castle sliders that I ate after the show, and my shoelaces that got soaked in beer which are now tied around a small box of trinkets and keepsakes.

 

My sister told me a while back that Dad once said that he had difficulty relating to me. I always knew he loved me, but I wasn't a lot like him. We didn't share a lot of common interests other than chess. He enjoyed the outdoors and hunting and fishing--things I find boring. I tried to get into them, but just couldn't. However, once I reached adolescence, we managed to connect on music and movies (and even baseball when I got into my twenties and thirties). When people tell me (and they always do) what a cool father I had, all I can say is that when I was fifteen, I was out until two in the morning on a school night with my dad at a rock concert. You don't get much cooler than that.

 

So this week, please enjoy the Stones landmark album behind which they toured, 1989's Steel Wheels.

 

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

 

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll,

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

 

 

Page 489 of Bill Wyman's 2002 book Rolling With the Stones