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

I wrote and posted this to Facebook on 30 March of 2024, partially to commemorate Easter weekend which is coming up again.  Bring on the pickled eggs and beets!

 

I've never made any secret of the fact that, in spite of my "Reverend Will the Thrill" moniker, my sense of spirituality is hardly what one would call "orthodox."  I don't regularly attend church services, I don't necessarily identify myself with any religious labels (aside from maybe "lapsed Mennonite," "Methonite," or "Dudeist Priest," although I don't use them with any kind of regularity), and I do tend to look at organized religion as a whole with an extraordinarily sarcastic and irreverent attitude.  How sarcastic and irreverent, you may ask?  Let me put it this way:  I was once stopped at a stoplight and I saw a bumper sticker on the car in front of me that read ,"Try Jesus."  I gave it some serious thought, but then I realized that the Romans beat me to it.  And while no offense was intended in that statement, I'm sure that someone reading this probably took offense to it--especially this weekend.  On the flip side, I'm sure that even more people reading it found it funny.  And I'm pretty sure that a number of people reading it laughed and then wondered if they should.

And this is part of my problem--so many people take their religion so seriously that they get offended if someone else has a different viewpoint--or even a sense of humour.  It's as if laughing at it is a hell-worthy trespass (to borrow a line from this week's film)--which really sucks because I can't control what I find funny.  And I find a lot of humour in people who get offended easily--especially over something as intangible as religion or spirituality.

As I've said in the past, I find a deep sense of spirituality in popular culture, specifically movies and music.  This really started for me as a junior in high school.  My English teacher asked us to give a report on the last movie we had watched.  Not surprisingly in any way, shape, or form (especially in 1990), the last film I had watched was the 1980 hit The Blues Brothers.  In my report, I went into this whole line of BS about all the religious symbolism I detected in the film and how spiritual I felt the film was.  Initially I did this partly because I didn't know what to say ("I really liked this film" isn't exactly much of a report), and partly to tweak my English teacher whom I strongly suspected thought she was really teaching Sunday School.  And while I doubt that Dan Aykroyd had any of that in mind when he wrote the film, as time progressed, I actually started to believe my own line of BS.  To this day, I still consider it one of the most spiritually uplifting movies I've ever seen.

Fun fact--in 2010, when The Blues Brothers was celebrating its thirtieth anniversary, the Catholic Church endorsed the film as being appropriate for all Catholics, in spite of its R rating.  I figure when the Catholic Church essentially agrees with something I had said twenty years earlier, either I'm a visionary who's way ahead of my time, or it may just be a sign of the apocalypse.  Too bad they weren't as open to this week's film.

Unlike The Blues Brothers, I feel that this film is designed, perhaps unintentionally, to make the viewer challenge their own beliefs and ask why we believe the things we believe.  Since its initial release twenty-five years ago, I've often revisited this film because it not only restores my sense of faith in... something, but it's also highly entertaining, both because of its substance as well as the controversy that surrounded it.

When it was released in 1999, Catholic organizations protested.  There were even a couple of death threats against the writer/director.  The irony is that the writer/director, Kevin Smith, identified (and I assume still does) as a practicing Catholic.  He even thanked God in the closing credits as well as his infant daughter, "for giving me the opportunity to raise my own little Catholic."  Apparently, since no one at the time recognized him, he even joined the protests, which just shows how much of a sense of humour he has about it.  My personal favourite story involved William Donohue of the Catholic League.  He railed against the film for months without actually seeing it.  When he approached the filmmakers about setting up a special screening so he could "speak about it intelligently," Smith said "So what has he been doing for the past six months?"

If you're not familiar with the plot, fallen angels Loki and Bartleby (played by Matt Damon and Ben Affleck) are clued into a loophole in Catholic dogma that would allow them to re-enter Heaven.  The problem with this plan is that it would prove God wrong and since God is supposed to be infallible, proving him/her/whatever/whomever wrong would destroy the entire universe.  A seraphim named Metatron, who acts as the voice of God (played by the late, great Alan Rickman), charges an abortion clinic worker named Bethany (Linda Fiorentino) with a "holy crusade" to stop the angels from carrying out their plan.  Along the way, she receives guidance and assistance from two "prophets" (Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith in their recurring roles of Jay and Silent Bob), the thirteenth apostle Rufus (Chris Rock), and a muse named Serendipity (Salma Hayek).  The cast also includes Jason Lee as the demon Azrael and--in what is perhaps the most inspired casting choice in the history of cinema--Geoge Carlin (who, in real life, was an atheist) as a Catholic Cardinal.

Possibly in anticipation of controversy from his own tribe, Smith put a disclaimer at the beginning of the movie stating that it is a "work of comedic fantasy, not to be taken seriously."  And, for the most part, I don't.  But there's a lot in this film I find quite moving, especially as someone who doesn't identify with any "traditional" sense of religion or faith, Catholic or otherwise.  Aside from Rufus's ruminations on the difference between beliefs and ideas, I really responded to something Serendipity tells Bethany with regards to faith and who has the right answers.  She said, "It's not about who's right or wrong.  No denomination's nailed it yet because they're all too self-righteous to realize that it doesn't matter what you have faith in--just that you have faith.  Your hearts are in the right place, but your brains gotta wake up."  Sometimes, I wish we could all be that enlightened.

So this Easter weekend, as a reaffirmation of faith and good ideas, I recommend the movie Dogma.

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

 

 

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

 Hi there!  I'm still recovering from my recent surgery.  Rather stiff today--some of those exercises are painful!  Since it's been a couple of weeks, I thought I'd share something I stumbled upon that I originally posted exclusively to Facebook on 1 April, 2023.  The concept still fascinates me to this day--and I still have the same paranoia I express at the end of the "sermon".  Sadly, in that time, Brad has retired his blog.  Please enjoy, nonetheless.

 

"Footloose.  Pet goose.  Picked a fight with a moose.  Cheese.  Stiff breeze.  Look out there are ten bees!"

--new and improved lyrics to an '80s classic that I was never really fond of to begin with

This week's sermon was inspired in part by a conversation I had with my friend Brad Pickens to whom I've referred in past ramblings.  Brad is an Episcopalian minister in Michigan.  We've known each other for at least (wow!) 35 years.  Like me, he also writes a weekly missive (that can be read at thepriceofacorns.com--this is his busy season at his day job, so he hasn't written anything in a few weeks).  Back in January, he wrote about mondegreens, the technical term for misheard song lyrics.  For years, he had been quite taken with a lyric from a popular song that got a lot of radio play when we were younger and he had to take afternoon naps.  After, apparently only recently, discovering what the song was (the 1983 classic "Islands in the Stream" by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton), he realized that one line of the song was not what he understood it to be as a child, hearing it on the radio when he was supposed to be napping.  Brad had what I thought was a profound observation.  He wrote, "Here's the thing.  I'm a lot happier with my version of my naptimesong and it's the one I'm going to keep with its strange places and mystic inhabitants.  Islands only exist in relational stuckness to one another.  Better to have even a passing connection through worlds where you see the stranger and recognize yourself in their strangeness.  That's how blank spots become the middle of everything once we learn to recognize shared humanity wherever we go.  And besides that, it was about the same time that I found a record that had songs by Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, Willie Horton, and Dolly on her own and there's no need to go back to Kenny after that."   I'll post the link to his thoughts in the comments section if you would like more insight than I can provide here.

Many years ago, sportscasting legend Bob Costas had a late night talk show called "Later" on NBC that aired after Carson and Letterman (just to give you some idea about how long ago this was).  Unlike his lead-ins, he typically only featured one guest per episode which, if nothing else, made for a more in-depth interview.  It was actually a very good program and it was nice to know that Costas could intelligently carry on a conversation about something other than sports.  One night, he interviewed Paul McCartney.  Sir Paul told him about the first time the Beatles met Bob Dylan.  They were backstage rehearsing.  During a run-through of "I Want to Hold Your Hand," Dylan was surprised by the line "It's such a feeling that, my love/I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hiiiiide!"  He apparently said to them, "Oh, man, I thought that was 'I get high, I get high, I get high.'"  Some time later, Costas was interviewing John Mellencamp and related that story to him.  Mellencamp said, "Well that's what I always thought it was."  Guess what?  That's what I always thought it was too!

I have always been fascinated by mondegreens.  I actually have a book of them titled Scuze Me While Kiss This Guy (there are a couple of sequels as well, the only one of which I remember is He's Got the Whole World in His Pants).  For thirty years, I thought Hall & Oates sang "Private eyes know what to do."  When the song was originally released, this made perfect sense to my then seven-year-old brain.  Every private detective I saw from Jim Rockford to Thomas Magnum, and later Remington Steele seemed to know what to do.  In the early 2010s, the cast of the television series "Psych" (which was about a private detective who pretends to be psychic but just has a photographic memory and an obsession with '80s pop culture, particularly John Hughes films), advertised their upcoming season by recreating the video to "Private Eyes."  It was only then I discovered, much to my surprise, that "Private eyes ARE WATCHING YOU," which is considerably creepier than my version when I stop to think about it.  What's weird is that on the off-chance I hear the song today and catch myself singing along, I still sing it incorrectly, more out of muscle memory than an aversion to the correct lyrics.  Perhaps, like Brad, I'm a lot happier with my version.  Perhaps I may just stick with it.

I'm also going to throw this philosophical quandary out there:  is it actually a mondegreen if it's a homophone?  Phonetically speaking it is still being sung correctly, even if the person singing it has a completely incorrect interpretation of the lyrics in their head.  For example, in the cowboy classic "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" (specifically Gene Autry's recording), it took me a moment or three to realize that he sang "I'm a roamin' cowboy."  When I first heard it, I thought he said "I'm a Roman cowboy."  I immediately had a vision of Julius Caesar on horseback with spurs on his sandals, a six-shooter in a holster tied around his toga, and a laurel wreath around the crown of a ten-gallon hat... perhaps even twirling a lasso.  I still want to see someone carve this out of marble.  Of course this also begs the question, how do you say "Whoopy-ti-yi-yay" in Latin?

I've known since I read Brad's reflections that this was fodder for one of my own weekly rants and that I would be doing this sometime in the near future--I was kind of leaning toward some CCR because John Fogerty has never been the most coherent singer)--but a bizarre event happened this week.  Suddenly and quite inexplicably I got Dean Martin's hit "That's Amore" stuck in my head.  Looking back on it, I suppose it's not completely inexplicable--after all, I did watch Moonstruck a few days earlier which features the song over both the opening and closing credits.  But that's not the weird part.  The weird part is that, for some reason, my brain wanted to sing one word in the song incorrectly.  And I don't know why.  I've always known what the correct lyric is.  I've never misheard it before.  In fact, it played on the drive home from work a few weeks ago and when I was singing along, I sang it correctly.  Not only did my brain want to sing it wrong, but it also wanted to give it a northern Indiana twist which was, needless to say, highly amusing.  And now I'm worried that every time I hear it I'm going to inadvertently sing, "Scusami, but you see, back in old Nappanee, that's amore!"  Because, really, what's so romantic about Napoli (Naples), Italy, anyway?

So this week please enjoy the one and only Dean Martin with his first album for Capitol Records, 1953's Dean Martin Sings.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and don't go 'round tonight, it's bound to take your life, there's a bathroom on the right.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill 

(a.k.a. "The April Fool")

 

 

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

When I was a kid, I remember a lot of discussions--and maybe this is still going on today--about whether excessive violence in movies causes people to commit violent acts.  I myself have never experienced that sort of thing.  Personally, I credit my parents with that.  As a child, if I saw an ad for a movie I wanted to see, and it was something Mom and Dad might be interested in as well, they would often go see it first to make sure it was appropriate for my sister and me to see as well.  They even screened E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial before taking us.  When it comes to parenting, how diligent is that?

Obviously, as I got older, this happened less.  Eventually, my tastes... matured.  A lot of this had to do with the fact that Dad introduced me to new and more mature films as I got older, specifically comedies and action films--many with R ratings.  

I never found that film violence inspires me to do anything.  I found it cathartic.  I still do.  When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year, and you're pissed off at the world, I find watching violent action films with lots of explosions and a high body count tends to calm me down.  It sounds a little weird, I know.  But you know what?  IT'S A MOVIE!!!!  It's not real.

And I realize that this pertains to me specifically.  Does violence in films inspire violence in real life?  I can't say for sure.  But I do suspect there might be a connection.  When I see stories on the news about police shootings and I hear about how the police would basically empty an entire magazine into someone because they thought he was about to draw a non-existent gun, I sometimes wonder if those officers watched one too many action films where the protagonists did that sort of thing on a regular basis.  Personally, that's why I always liked Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry--he carried a revolver.  He had only six shots so he had to make them count.  He couldn't just spray the area with a barrage of ammo.  Each shot had to be calculated.  He didn't want any collateral damage, he just wanted to take down the bad guy.  I actually think that made him more badass--certainly more so than the villains.

And don't get me wrong--every so often, I do enjoy watching a lot of ammo being spent in a short period of time.  It adds to the catharsis.  Having spent time at a target range my own self, I can say that it can even be fun.  But Dad was even more diligent about gun safety than he was about what movies I watched when I was young.  So I take a little time to, in Dirty Harry's words, "hit what I aim at."

But back to movies and not reality...

I've noticed an interesting trend in the last 20 or so years.  That of critically acclaimed, award winning, A-list actors appearing in shoot-'em-up action thrillers.  Probably the best example of this was the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU).  These were based on comic books and attracted the likes of William Hurt, Tommy Lee Jones, Hugo Weaving, Michelle Pfeiffer, Michael Douglas, Anthony Hopkins, and even Robert Freaking Redford.  And they were just playing supporting characters!  We won't even discuss the leads.

I was inspired to watch this week's film again recently and forgot how much fun it is.  In it, Bruce Willis plays Frank Moses, a retired black-ops CIA agent.  He now lives a life of extreme boredom.  The only thing he has to look forward to is receiving his government pension check, which he promptly rips up so he can call their service center and speak to/flirt with Sarah Ross (Mary-Louise Parker) and tell her that the check never arrived.  After a team of operatives shows up at his house intent on killing him, he goes on the run.  Through a series of mishaps, he winds up essentially kidnapping Sarah while he tries to assemble a team of his old comrades to figure out why someone wants him--and probably them--dead.

The cast is as impressive as any Marvel movie--Karl Urban, Brian Cox, Oscar nominee John Malkovich, and Oscar winners Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren, Richard Dreyfuss, and Ernest Borgnine.  Written by Jon and Erich Hoeber (based on the DC graphic novel series by Warren Ellis and Cully Hamner) and directed by Robert Schwentke, from 2010, please enjoy Red. 

As I stated in my Album of the Week "sermon," this will be my last film rant for about a month and a half.  I'll be having hip replacement surgery in about three weeks and will be out of action for a bit.

Until I return, 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!

It's been a weird week for me, especially the last few days (more on that toward the end).  During those last few days, I've found myself being drawn to the Beatles for some reason--specifically Paul's post-Beatles work, specifically Wings.  For three, maybe even four straight days, I woke up with the song "No Words" rattling around my cranium.  And I don't know why.  It's not like I intentionally listened to the song, let alone the album on which it's featured (Band on the Run), anytime recently.  Perhaps it played randomly on my phone while I was at work and it seeped into my subconscious--obviously, if it did, I don't remember hearing it.

Consequently, I've been revisiting Sir Paul's music, including The Beatles.  I've always kind of felt bad for Paul, because I get the impression that many people think of him as someone who just wrote silly love songs--generally and literally.  But, frankly, I've always liked that about him.

 

I seriously thought about submitting Band on the Run this week.  It is probably Wings' most remembered album, likely their biggest hit, and includes some of my favourite deep cuts, most notably "Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five."  However, I was remembering something I read in a book about rock snobbery.

My cousins Ari and Gates gave me a book for Christmas (2024) called I Hate New Music: The Classic Rock Manifesto by British expat journalist Dave Thompson.  Thompson is one of the ultimate rock snobs--even moreso than I like to think I am.  While I didn't agree with every assessment of his, I found it highly entertaining.  In the book, he posed the queston:  What is the most satisfying sound in rock 'n' roll?  Obviously, the response is subjective, but Thompson's choice kind of caught me off guard.  And it's not necessarily what I would have thought of as the most satisfying sound in rock, but I always felt that his choice was interesting because I think most rock snobs would just write it off.  (He also seemed to prefer it in 8-Track, although I've never listened to one, so I can't comment on that particular aspect.)  Overall, I've always felt that it was an underrated album and to read the words of an actual rock snob extolling its virtues and not just discounting it because it's Paul--who, admittedly can get kind of schmaltzy--was kind of reassuring.

This week's album was recorded mostly at Sea-Saint Studios in New Orleans.  McCartney brought new members Jimmy McCullough and Geoff Britton into the fold, however, Britton left after only a few months.  He only played on three tracks, so Paul recruited Joe English (who is actually American) to finish the album.  Legendary pianist Allen Toussaint even played on "Rock Show."  Featuring some of my favourite deep cuts including "Magneto and Titanium Man," "Medicine Jar," and "You Gave Me the Answer," please enjoy Wings with their 1975 release Venus and Mars.

(Sometime around 1990, I remember McCartney giving an interview--I think to MTV's Kurt Loder, but don't quote me on that.  He was asked about his early career goals and aspirations.  He talked about writing songs that he hoped would be covered by the likes of Frank Sinatra and said, "I was out to become the next Cole Porter."  After a beat, he added, "Still am, babe!"  I only bring this up because that ambition is evident in "You Gave Me the Answer," which might be my favourite song on this album.  See also:  "English Tea" on his 2005 album Chaos and Creation in the Backyard.)

This will be my last "Album of the Week" rant for about a month and a half.  If you've seen me at all in the last year, you know that I don't get around like I used to and should.  I've been walking with a cane since November.  I am scheduled to have hip replacement surgery (my second) in about three weeks.  I may post some earlier "From the Vault" rants in my absence, but at this point, I don't have the mental capacity to come up with anything new.  Wish me luck.

Until I return, 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 a Bonus Film of the Week! (One From the Vault!)

In this past week's "Album of the Week" rant, I referenced a film and its score that I had featured in previous rants.  I suddenly felt the urge to revisit both as I had posted both exclusively to Facebook.  So I decided to present both of them here.  What follows is the film rant, originally written and posted on 16 March, 2024:

Like music, I tend to prefer physical media when it comes to my movies as well.  I'm not so old school that I prefer VHS tapes or anything, but I do like having a tangible copy of the movie that I can hold--maybe read some liner notes or something.  I also like all the behind the scenes "bonus features" that you get on DVD and Blu-ray that you don't usually get from streaming.  To clarify, I don't have a problem with streaming.  I've got plenty of films and TV shows in queues on Netflix and Paramount+ that I plan to get to at some point.  I just prefer physical formats.

Like music, when shopping for new films, there have been a number of things that I've picked up on a whim over the years--movies that I had never seen before.  Some were films that I'd heard about that I always thought I should see, like Citizen Kane (a good film, but highly overrated--not as good as Casablanca--more on those films another time).  Other movies just kind of appear out of nowhere.  While reading the summary on the back of the DVD case, checking out the cast, maybe the writer and director, sometimes I'll just think, "what the hell--this looks like something I would enjoy," and take it to the counter and pay for it.  For the most part, my instincts have been correct.  I've been burned more times going to see a film in a theater than I have buying it for my home video collection.

Some years back, my dear, dear friend Ellie Lawson informed me that Barnes & Noble was having a sale on their Criterion Collection Blu-rays and DVDs.  The Criterion Collection, if you're not familiar, curates what they feel are important classic and contemporary films and releases them in special home video editions, replete with special features including written essays, archival documentaries, interviews, and trailers--usually with new interviews with some of the people connected to the film and appreciations by various scholars pontificating on the significance of the film... the kinds of things geeks like me eat up.

Anyway, I did my due diligence and checked out what was on the shelf.  One film in particular grabbed my attention.  I remembered stocking the original DVD release of it when I managed the music department at Barnes & Noble twenty years earlier.  I had looked at it once or twice, but the only thing I remembered about it was that Burt Lancaster starred in it.  For some reason, I don't know how I didn't recognize Peter Riegert on that original cover, but I didn't.  While reading the back of this new edition, I discovered that it was filmed in Scotland--one of my favourite places on Earth.  I decided, if nothing else, I wanted to see more of Riegert's work than I had, so I splurged and bought the Blu-ray.  For a number of months in late 2019 and early 2020, I couldn't seem to stop watching this movie.  It's one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen and have re-visited it many times.  In fact, as I prepare to post this, I'm watching it yet again.  I think it's safe to say I've definitely gotten my money's worth out of it (thanks, Ellie!).

Felix Happer, an eccentric Houston-based oil executive and astronomy buff, sends Mac, one of his top negotiators, to a fishing village in Scotland in order to purchase the land and develop it into an oil refinery (quite a shocking premise by today's standards, what with global warming and all).  As the film progresses, we see Mac begin to adapt to a slower pace of life, in spite of his fondness for the materialistic yuppie-like trappings of his life in America.  He endears himself to the locals as well as Victor, a Soviet businessman who makes periodic visits to the town--or maybe they endear themselves to him, it's kind of hard to tell.  Either way, it becomes apparent that he falls in love with the place.  As an American who's been to Scotland myself, I can't say I blame him.  In fact, one of the draws of the film is the backdrop.  It's one of those films where the location is just another character.

I became so taken with this film, that I even fell in love with its music.  Composed by Dire Straits frontman Mark Knopfler, this was his first film score.  In fact, I even featured the soundtrack as one of my "Album of the Week" submissions a few years back.

The film stars Peter Riegert (who is probably best remembered as Boone in National Lampoon's Animal House), Denis Lawson (Wedge from Star Wars), a young Peter Capaldi (more than 30 years before he became the twelfth "Doctor Who"), and the legendary Burt Lancaster as Felix Happer.  Produced by David Puttnam and written and directed by Bill Forsyth and filmed entirely on location in Scotland and Houston, Texas, from 1983, I cannot recommend highly enough, Local Hero.

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

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

In this past week's "Album of the Week" rant, I referenced a film and its score that I had featured in previous rants.  I suddenly felt the urge to revisit both as I had posted both exclusively to Facebook.  So I decided to present both of them here.  What follows is the film rant, originally written and posted on 10 August, 2020:

 

I apologize in advance. When looking back at the last few albums I've submitted, one would think I was stuck in 1983. Three of the last four entries in this series were from that year. And here's another one...

 

Two or three times a year, Barnes & Noble will have a special sale where all Criterion DVDs and Blu-ray discs are 50% off. For those not familiar with Criterion, they are a distribution company that releases special home video editions of what they deem to be important classic and contemporary films. The films are painstakingly remastered (and, in the case of older films, often restored with equal dedication) within an inch of their lives, making them slightly superior to regular editions of the same film. The discs frequently contain loads of special features, commentaries, interviews, radio adaptations, etc., and are marketed to serious film aficionados (also known as "geeks," "dorks," and "people like me"). The films in this series frequently tend to be of the foreign variety--lots of European films, the works of Akira Kurosawa, that kind of thing. In the last few years, I have noticed an uptick in American films being added to the collection--the silent classics of Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, the works of Wes Anderson and Terry Gilliam, and even highly regarded and well-loved films of the '80s like Tootsie, The Big Chill, Broadcast News, The Princess Bride, and The Breakfast Club.

 

Late last year, while perusing what was on sale, I discovered a recent addition to the collection, Bill Forsyth's 1983 film Local Hero,  I had remembered selling the original DVD when I ran the music department many years earlier at the store in Bloomington. I had never seen the film, but while reading the back of the case, I decided to give it a try.

A couple of things sold me on it. First of all, it starred Peter Riegert, who most of us will remember as Boone in National Lampoon's Animal House.  Over the years, I've seen some of his other work, most recently as Lillian Kaushtupper's rival Artie Goodman in Netflix's "Unbreakable Kimmy Schmitt." I also can't recommend the film Crossing Delancey enough.

 

What really sold me on the film, however, was that it was shot on location on the coast of Scotland (and, ok, Houston, Texas). I've always had a deep love of Scotland and all things Scottish--including bagpipe music, the poetry of Robert Burns, the song stylings of Donovan, whisky without an "e," and the TV series "Monarch of the Glen." Scotland is, without question, the most beautiful place I've ever seen in my life and I would love more than anything to return one day, if for no other reason my father requested his ashes be scattered in the North Sea (apparently, it was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen in his life too). But I digress (no real surprise there)...

 

For those not familiar with the film, Riegert plays MacIntyre ("Mac"), an employee of the Houston based Knox Oil and Gas company run by Felix Happer (the great Burt Lancaster), an eccentric who pays a man to verbally abuse him and is obsessed with astronomy. Mac is sent to a town on the north coast of Scotland to negotiate buying the entire area from the locals in order to build a new oil refinery. He is aided by Danny Oldsen (played by a very young Peter Capaldi), a company employee based in Aberdeen. They travel to the coast so Mac can negotiate with the town's legal representative Gordon Urquhart (played by Denis Lawson, or, as he's probably known in America, Wedge Antilles).

 

Needless to say, it doesn't take long for Mac to fall in love with the place along with Gordon's wife Stella (Jennifer Black). Danny also falls for Marina (Jenny Seagrove), a marine biologist who works for Knox and has a "magnificent pair of lungs," among other... rather interesting attributes.

 

Anyway, I watched the film and found myself completely entranced by it. In the subsequent months I've lost track of how many times I've marveled at the beauty of this movie. I can't believe I'd never seen it before. It's one of those films that is so visually stunning, that each frame could hang in an art gallery. I often say that I don't gush about a lot of things, but I've recently added this film to that list. The romantic in me likes to think Danny and Marina ended up together and are still together today.

 

One of the other things that catches one's attention is the film's soundtrack. Guitarist extraordinaire Mark Knopfler was already well established as the front man for the band Dire Straits. He was asked to write the score for the film--his first endeavour in that particular field of music. I often find myself taken with the music to the film as much as the film itself.

 

So this week, please enjoy Knopfler's score to the film, featuring Gerry Rafferty on "The Way It Always Starts."

 

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that you can't eat scenery.

 

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film(s) of the Week!

This is a first for me.  Normally, if I feel compelled to highlight two films, I do them separately.  However, this week, since one film is actually based on the other, I thought it might be interesting to try to highlight them together.  Also, if you have issues with this week's selection(s), blame Neve Campbell.  While sitting in a theater last weekend, I saw the trailer for her new film, Scream 7, and I thought to myself, "Y'know, I have a film in which she sings and dances."

Some things don't age well.  No matter how well-intentioned, some things are just bad.  If you've ever had the misfortune of seeing the movie Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987), you know what I'm talking about.  The premise was good--the Man of Steel, fully accepts the fact that, even though he is an alien, he now lives on Earth and, therefore, he takes it upon himself to rid the world of nuclear weapons, which he views as a tremendous threat to our existence.  Unfortunately, the film was so poorly made--even with Christopher Reeve as a co-writer--that today it is, rightfully, considered one of the worst films of the 1980s.  I mean, come on--you can even see the special effects during the flying sequences.

This is also the case with the first of this week's films.  Unlike Superman IV, however, the second film I'm highlighting almost--almost--redeems the first one.

The first film, released in 1938 (there is apparently some controversy over this--many sources say 1936), was supposed to be a cautionary tale about the perils of drug abuse.  Originally titled Tell Your Children (and also released in various areas under titles like The Doped Youth and The Burning Question), the film was apparently written and/or financed by a church group--although rumours persisted for decades that the government was behind it--and was supposed to educate the general public about the dangers and consequences of smoking the demon weed known as marijuana.  (GASP!)  It was allegedly inspired by the case of Floridian Victor Licata who, in 1933, killed both of his parents and three siblings with an ax in Tampa.  Believed to be under the influence of marijuana, he was declared unfit to stand trial due to insanity and was diagnosed with schizophrenia with homicidal tendencies.  (Hey... you had me at "Floridian.")  In spite of the schizophrenia diagnosis, the case was cited as a reason to pass the Marijuana Tax Act of 1937, which ultimately outlawed legal sales of pot.

But back to the film...

Sadly, the end product is so bad it's actually comical--something I wish I could say about Superman IV.  The writing and acting in the film are both highly questionable and the claims made in the movie--for instance that marijuana is more addictive than cocaine and heroin--seem absurd by today's standards.  The film eventually found an audience among college students who found it so funny that it became a cult classic, frequently shown in late night "midnight movie" screenings.  In spite of that, I still contend that the movie will essentially steal one hour and six minutes of your life.  (Or yours... or yours... or YOURS!!!!)

The unintentional humour continued to resonate through the generations.  In 1997, writing partners Kevin Murphy and Dan Studney were listening to Frank Zappa's album Joe's Garage--Zappa's idea of a musical--while driving from Oakland to Los Angeles. While picturing this musical in his head, Studney turned to Murphy and proposed the idea of making a musical out of this cult classic propaganda film from the late 1930s.  They wrote the first song by the time they reached L.A.

Their musical debuted in Los Angeles at the Hudson Theater in 1998, eventually playing Off-Broadway in 2001.  It was then filmed as a musical for television and was aired on Showtime in 2005.  The film starred many of the cast members of the original L.A. production.  The film version (and I assume the stage version) actually used dialogue from the original movie--this time intentionally getting laughs.

What still kind of blows my mind about this whole thing is the idea of something unintentionally being made badly versus something being intentionally made badly to the point where it's actually very good.  The original movie is just anti-drug propaganda--kind of corny, not entirely accurate, and impossible to take too seriously, as much as the producers might want you to.  (Apparently, even the actors didn't take it too seriously.)  The musical version is really a satire.  It pokes fun at the original propaganda and laughs at the unrealistic extremes that the establishment might want us to believe.  It also takes some not-so-subtle swipes at the subtle racism that was behind some of the anti-drug laws of the time.  Even though, like its predecessor, it's set in 1936, it feels relevant for its time, especially those first few years after 9/11.  I'll be honest with you, I watched it again recently and it still feels sadly relevant.

(To reiterate the point of how good it is compared to its predecessor, the musical went on to win a Primetime Emmy Award for Murphy and Studney for their song "Mary Jane/Mary Lane."  It was also nominated for Outstanding Choreography and Outstanding Non-prosthetic Makeup for a Mini-series, Movie, or Special.)

The original movie was written by Lawrence Mead, Arthur Hoerl, and Paul Franklin; directed by Louis Gasnier; and stars a cast few remember today including Dorothy Short, Kenneth Craig, Lillian Miles, Dave O'Brien, Thelma White, Carleton Young, Warren McCullom, Pat Royale, and Josef Forte.

The musical version was written by Murphy and Studney, directed by Andy Fickman (who also directed the stage production), and stars a cast of actors still seen today including Kristen Bell, Christian Campbell, Neve Campbell, Alan Cumming, Ana Gasteyer, Steven Weber, John Kassir, Robert Torti, and Amy Spanger.  And, yes, Christian and Neve Campbell are siblings.

This week, please enjoy Reefer Madness AND Reefer Madness: The Movie Musical.  (Consumer hint:  If you can find the DVD of the musical, it does include the original movie as a bonus feature.)

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