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

Well, folks, it's that time of year when the Hallmark Channel starts vomiting lights and tinsel all over its programming schedule.  Theaters start showing "classic" Christmas movies (I even have tickets to see It's a Wonderful Life and White Christmas over the next week).  In short, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Like everyone else, I have favourite holiday films that I like to watch in December.  A couple of them--specifically Love Actually and The Holiday--I'll watch any time of year (they are a couple of my standard "Saturday night movies"--long story).  I enjoy the classics like Miracle on 34th Street and just about any version of A Christmas Carol.  I also enjoy more contemporary (in my lifetime) holiday fare that has become just as classic such as Elf and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

And I know I'm going to touch a few nerves here, but I do consider Die Hard a Christmas movie.  The argument that it's not--that the plot has nothing to do with Christmas and that it just happens to take place during the holiday--is a ridiculous one.  By that criterion, It's a Wonderful Life isn't a Christmas movie either and I'm pretty sure no one agrees with that.  Having said that, and I will touch a few more nerves here, but, frankly, as much as I like Die Hard (and I do), I think Lethal Weapon is actually the better Christmas movie... that's right, I said it.  To be fair, I usually try to watch them together as a "double feature" (hopefully this Friday) and there are at least three actors who appeared in both films.  I've even been known to enjoy The Long Kiss Goodnight from time to time.  Because sometimes you just want to see things get blown up.  As someone once said, "Yippy-ki-yay, motherfucker!"

But as I've gotten older, for some odd reason, over the last few years, I've found myself drawn to this week's film.  I've watched it multiple times every holiday season for about four years now... maybe even longer.  To be honest, I think I lost count.

The strange thing is that the film is notorious for its behind-the-scenes drama.  Apparently, star Bill Murray and director Richard Donner (who also, coincidentally directed that other holiday classic, Lethal Weapon) didn't get along on set.  When asked by Roger Ebert if he had any disagreements with Donner, Murray said, "Only a few.  Every single minute of the day.  That could have been a really, really great movie.  The script was so good.  There's maybe one take in the final cut movie that is mine.  We made it so fast.  It was like doing a movie live.  He kept telling me to do things louder, louder, louder.  I think he was deaf."

I don't know why, but this movie really means something to me.  So, I have to admit when I hear things like that, it kind of saddens me.  I always feel bad when something that's brought me so much pleasure did the opposite for the people who made it.  And in spite of that, I keep watching it every holiday season.  I personally think that the speech Murray gives at the end of the film is some of the finest acting he's ever done, and it moves me to tears every time I watch it.

The film, a retelling of Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol (set in 1980s New York) was written by Mitch Glazer and Michael O'Donoghue, both of whom have brief cameos as a party guest and a priest respectively.  It co-stars Karen Allen, Robert Mitchum, Alfre Woodard, Bobcat Goldthwait, John Glover, John Forsythe, Michael J. Pollard, Wendie Malick, David Johansen, and Carol Kane.  If that weren't enough, Jamie Farr, Robert Goulet, Buddy Hackett, Lee Majors, John Houseman, Mary Lou Retton, and the Solid Gold Dancers all make appearances as themselves.  The film also features three of Bill Murray's brothers--one actually playing his brother and another playing his father.  The late Richard Donner was also one of those directors who liked working with certain actors repeatedly--look for Donner regulars Mary Ellen Trainor, Steve Kahan, Jack McGee, Damon Hines, and Norm Wilson (all of whom appeared in multiple Lethal Weapon films).  Also, in one of those "blink and you'll miss it" cameos, Larry Carlton, David Sanborn, Paul Shaffer, and Miles Davis play street musicians performing perhaps the jazziest rendition of "We Three Kings" I've ever heard.

Despite the drama and the fact that most people probably would not rank it as one of the greatest Christmas movies ever made, this week, I'm still going to recommend 1988's Scrooged.

This is my last "Film of the Week" sermon for 2024.  As I said in my "Album of the Week" rant, I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season, whatever holiday you celebrate.  Or, if you don't celebrate any holidays, I still wish you a joyous few weeks at the end of the year.  After all, why should we revelers have all the fun?

Until next year, 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!

I've noticed that when it comes to the holiday season, there are two schools of thought when it comes to decorating trees.  One is where everything is all neat and uniform like you see on trees in public spaces like the one in Rockefeller Center or the White House or most public lobbies.  All the ornaments look alike and they're placed on the tree in symmetrical patterns that are pleasing to the eye, which is all well and good, because it is pleasing to the eye.  I mean, what else are we going to do with a Christmas tree other than look at it?    But the other school of thought (and the one I personally espouse) is a bit more eclectic.  I truly believe that, especially in one's personal spaces, how a tree is decorated says a lot about the person.  It's truly an extension of their personality.  The ornaments tend to reflect the interests of the tree owner.  Every year, my tree is practically cluttered with Peanuts, Disney, and Looney Tunes characters.  I have ornaments showing off some of my favourite bands, Coca-Cola, R2-D2, ceramic knickknacks that I personally glazed, handmade glass ornaments that have been given to me down through the years (particularly an '80s boom box that a family member gave me some years back), even a bagpipe-playing Santa Claus.

In 2006, I made my own ornaments out of cardboard cutouts of miniature Diana Krall album covers (which is a very long story, but you can see the results in the pictures below).  I'm still very proud of those ornaments and keep them all together in an envelope when they're not on the tree so they don't get lost or separated.

I also feel compelled at this time of year to point out a Heloise-like tip of my own:  if you tie a ribbon around the hub of a yo-yo with no string, it makes quite the decorative ornament.  I have at least eight of them on my tree--maybe nine, I haven't done a piece count lately.  (And, yes, I also agree with the old adage that if it isn't a Duncan, it isn't a yo-yo.)

 

Many years ago, my father was convinced by his best friend to play Santa Claus at a local firehouse.  It seemed appropriate for him to do it as he looked like Santa (complete with the white beard) and his name was Nicholas.  I always thought that the picture that Mom took of him looked like Santa's mug shot.  Last year, my sister Heather had a tree-shaped ornament made out of the picture.  I got a little sentimental putting it up this year as I realized that so many of the ornaments on my tree were for things I liked that Dad introduced me to.  So when I put up the St. Nic ornament (1), I placed some of those other ornaments--Batman (2), Wile E. Coyote riding a holiday themed ACME bomb à la Slim Pickens (3) the Chicago Cubs (4), Curly from the Three Stooges (5). and, of course, The Rolling Stones (6)--in its vicinity, thus establishing a "Dad Section" on my Christmas tree this year.  If anyone knows where I can get my hands on some ornaments for Tom Selleck and/or John Denver, please let me know so I can establish a "Mom Section" in the future.

So much of holiday decorating has become something of a tradition for me.  And I have various rituals around putting up the tree.  As I wrote last year, I always play the "Charlie Brown Christmas" CD while decorating with a DVD of a crackling fireplace playing on my TV.  There's frequently eggnog involved.  I've had some of the ornaments for more than half of my life.  Even my tree was purchased in 1998.

"Tradition is not old habit.  It's comforting to people."

--Eli Wallach as Rabbi Ben Lewis in the film Keeping the Faith, 2000

The whole thing culminates in the placement of the angel on the top of the tree.  The angel (who my father dubbed Brunhilde, but my sister once told me that she thinks her real name is Fiona) actually predates me.  When we were kids, it was always a big deal and something of an honour to put the angel on the tree.  Heather and I would alternate years and there are old pictures of Dad holding us up to put her in place.  Of course, back then, the tree was real and six and a half feet tall.  Today, my tree is barely half that height and sits on an end table by a window facing the street.  For a long time, my tree lacked an angel.  To me, it was an important part of the holiday season, and my tree just felt incomplete without it.  I wanted one of my own but, try as I might, I could never seem to find one with red hair, so Mom actually gave me Fiona/Brunhilde after Heather and I moved out and Mom no longer felt like decorating for the holidays.

 

 

In spite of all the traditions and rituals that we all have--especially at this time of the year, sometimes it's important to create new things that we can incorporate into those traditions.  So this year, rather than submitting a holiday album of the same old songs that we all know and love, this year, I thought I'd forego the "fa la las" and the "Jingle Bells," and share a holiday album that I'm quite fond of in which the bulk of the songs were original compositions by band members Karen Bergquist and Linford Detweiler.  Initially released independently in 2006 and re-released the following year on their own label, Great Speckled Dog Records, please enjoy Over the Rhine with their second Christmas album, Snow Angels.

This will be my last "Album of the Week" sermon for 2024.  I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season, whatever holiday you celebrate.  Or, if you don't celebrate any holidays, I still wish you a joyous few weeks at the end of the year.  After all, why should we revelers have all the fun?

Until next year, 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 Film of the Week!

What makes a film perfect?  It's kind of hard to say because in the process of making a film any number of things can go wrong--not the least of which is interference by studio executives who think they know what they're doing.  And even if everything goes right, there's no guarantee that the film will find an audience.  But every so often, a movie comes along that becomes so embedded in our culture that you don't even have to have seen it to understand cultural references to it.

I like to think I can look at things objectively as well as subjectively.  As such, I feel compelled to disclose the fact that this is tied with Dr. Strangelove as my all-time favourite movie.  I can't begin to tell you how many times I've seen it, most recently about six hours ago.  Having said that, I also objectively believe it's a perfect film.

 

This has got everything--adventure, excitement, romance, intrigue, gambling, drinking, singing, piano playing, good guys, bad guys, morally questionable guys that you kind of like anyway... all condensed into an incredibly tight 102 minutes.  And after more than 80 years, so many of us are still drawn to this movie.

The film is set in a bar in Morocco run by Rick Blaine, a cynical American expat (played by Humphrey Bogart), at the height of World War II.  The city has become a haven for refugees fleeing Europe to escape the Nazis.  A very high profile refugee named Victor Laszlo (played by Paul Henreid) comes to town accompanied by a woman named Ilsa Lund (the lovely Ingrid Bergman).  I suppose this wouldn't have been such a big deal--apart from the war and all that--if Ilsa hadn't broken Rick's heart as the Nazis were invading Paris.  The Nazis are pissed because Victor escaped from one of their concentration camps and they've been pursuing him ever since.  Rick also has a side bet with Captain Louis Renault, the local prefect of police (played so beautifully by the great Claude Rains), to see if Victor manages to escape.

 

While most people (lovers and haters) cite the star-crossed romance between Rick and Ilsa, I contend that what really makes the film work is the relationship between Rick and Louis.  I believe it to be one of cinema's earliest "bromances," and it delights me every time I watch it.

America had only just entered World War II at the time the film was produced and was one of the first to deal with everything that was going on, particularly in Europe and North Africa.  In fact quite a few members of the supporting cast--most notably Peter Lorre, Conrad Veidt, and S. Z. Sakall--had fled Europe themselves when Hitler rose to power.

The screenplay was written by the Epstein Brothers (Julius and Phillip) and Howard Koch, and based on the unproduced play Everybody Comes to Rick's by Murray Burnett and Joan Allison.  Rounding out the principal cast were Dooley Wilson, Sydney Greenstreet, Madeleine Lebeau, and Leonid Kinskey.  The whole thing was directed by Michael Curtiz, who was best known at Warner Brothers for directing such classic action films as The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Sea Hawk, and Captain Blood.  The film went on to win three Oscars for Best Picture, Best Screenplay, and Best Director.  Since then, it frequently is at or near the top of most critics' "best of" lists.  The American Film Institute ranked it on many of their lists, most notably in their list of the Top 100 American Film Quotes which featured six classic quotes from this film.

So... is this a perfect movie?  Well, I think it is.  Certainly it's stood the test of time... and if not, it's really damn close.  So this week, from 1942, I recommend what many argue to be one of--if not the--greatest movie of all time, Casablanca.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and... well... Here's looking at you, kid.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

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

I was listening to a track from this week's album randomly on my my phone a couple of weeks ago.  Something about the song caught my attention and, since I didn't have the CD near me, I looked it up on Wikipedia hoping that it could tell me what I wanted to know about the song.  I was shocked--SHOCKED I tell you!--to discover that this album that I have loved now for over 30 years (and owned for almost 25) was missing a song!  It turns out that one song, "Everybody Laughed But You," was left off of the US and Canadian releases.  Seriously?  What the hell, people?  I thought the record labels stopped doing this shit in the 1970s.  Now you're telling me it was continuing into the frigging '90s?!?

So--you guessed it--the completist geek in me ordered another copy of the CD from someone in Hull, England, who happened to have it on hand.  It arrived yesterday and while I haven't had a chance to play it yet, I'm still quite excited by it.  So I thought I'd share that album this week.

From 1993, please enjoy Gordon Sumner, a.k.a. Sting, with my favourite of his solo albums--in its entirety--Ten Summoner's Tales.

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 Film of the Week!

Being the film geek that I am, I will always contend that movies are best appreciated in a theater.  There's something about being in a darkened room with a group of strangers, all of us appreciating the same work of art projected on a large screen, that I find rather comforting.  It's really a communal experience that I greatly appreciate which is kind of ironic because, by and large, I tend to shun people... especially in groups.  In a theater, it's easier to get lost in the film.  You tend to pay more attention to the story and the characters.  You tend to notice little details that you wouldn't notice on your home television (like the skull-shaped object on Mr. Potter's desk in It's a Wonderful Life--seriously, what the hell is that thing?).  I've found that scary movies are scarier on the big screen, comedies are funnier, action films are more intense.  Admittedly, you also have to deal with the behaviour of other people--whether they're talking too loudly or talking on the phone, but, for the most part, these things don't bother me as much as they bother others.

I go to the movies as often as I can.  I have since my early 20s when I discovered I had access to a car and disposable income.  There always seems to be something playing that I want to see.  I've often said that music and movies are the closest things that I get to religion.  Going to a movie (or, for that matter, a record store) is like going to church.  I find it comforting and uplifting on a deeply spiritual level.  Sometimes, even watching a movie at home can have that effect on me.  In fact, some of the films I've highlighted in these weekly "sermons" have left deep impressions on me that I've never been able to fully explain.

"That's part of your problem, you know, you haven't seen enough movies.  All of life's riddles are answered in the movies."

--Steve Martin as Davis in Grand Canyon, 1992

What's interesting to me is that over the last decade or so, I've enjoyed going to see older movies in theaters about as frequently as I've enjoyed seeing new movies.  A lot of these "classics" are films I might have seen at home that I never saw in a theater (frequently movies that were originally released long before I was even born).  Some are films from my youth that I enjoy watching just to feel that age again.  Others, like this week's film, are ones that I just missed the first time around and, for one reason or another, just never got around to seeing.

Most of the time, my friend Tara goes to the movies with me.  We frequently compare notes on different movies, often giving each other grief about some of the films we've never seen.  When she found out I had never seen this week's film, we immediately made plans to see it.  (Although, to be fair, as far as I know, she's still never seen The Godfather, so I think she's worse off.)

This week's film, set in the 23rd century, stars Bruce Willis as a cab driver who inadvertently picks up Milla Jovovich after she crashes through the roof of his cab.  The police seem to be pursuing her, and he feels compelled to protect her.  Despite their apparent language barrier, he figures out that she needs to see a priest (played by Sir Ian Holm) who discovers that she is the key to saving the world from a force of unspeakable evil.  Co-starring Gary Oldman as one of the most delightful villains I've ever seen on screen and Chris Tucker as a celebrity personality (I assumed he was channeling Little Richard in his performance) who is surprisingly both funny and off-putting (a combination I've never seen before).  The film was directed by Luc Besson who also co-wrote the film with Robert Mark Kamen.  Originally released in 1997 (I still don't know how I never saw it until a few days ago), this week I highly recommend The Fifth Element.

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!

A while back, my friend Elexis and I were actively gossiping about people.  To be clear, I don't necessarily like to participate in gossip (although I have), but I do like to listen to it.  At any rate, Elexis said that she had recently stuck up for me to someone else who apparently had issues with me.  Now I'll be the first to admit that sometimes I can rub some people the wrong way.  I never do it intentionally or maliciously, but it does happen occasionally and, even after all these years, it still bothers me when it does.  Elexis apparently told this person that the only "negative" thing she could think of to say about me is that I occasionally listen to jazz music.

This statement still amuses me no end for any number of reasons.  First of all, I would have thought that my predilection for bagpipe music would have been more offensive than my love of jazz.  I'm also cutting Elexis a lot of slack because she's only known me for six years.  Anyone--including myself--who's known me longer can think of any number of toxic traits that are far more egregious than my taste in music.  But I'll still take it as a tremendous compliment.  Of course, ever since then, whenever I catch myself playing jazz music--even just randomly on my phone--all I can think is, "There goes Will, listening to that jazz music again!"

So this week, I feel compelled to share one of my favourite jazz albums.  I first picked it up in college at a shop on the south end of the Ball State campus called the Discount Den.  It sold a lot of BSU swag, t-shirts, magazines, slushies, playing cards, etc.  Any time I had spare money, I could usually be seen browsing the CD racks that lined the wall next to the checkout counter.  I bought a lot of music there in my four years at BSU and exposed myself to all sorts of different styles of music.  But the Den was where I really discovered some of my favourite jazz artists, especially Art Blakey whom I consider to be my second favourite drummer of all time (behind the late, great Charlie Watts).

This week's album was my introduction to Blakey's music.  I was trying to expose myself to more jazz.  I knew Blakey by name and knew he was a drummer.  I essentially bought it on a whim and, more than 30 years later, I'm glad I did.  It was recorded live at the legendary Birdland jazz club in New York City on 15 April, 1959.  According to Wikipedia, four of the ten (really nine) songs performed had been recorded in the studio just a few weeks prior for an album called Just Coolin'.  For some reason, that album was held back and this album was released in its place.  (Just Coolin' would not be released until 2020--more than 60 years after the fact--as part of an extended celebration of Blakey's 100th birthday.)  Originally released in two volumes in September and October of 1959, this album features introductions by Birdland's MC extraordinaire Pee Wee Marquette.  With saxophonist Hank Mobley, trumpeter Lee Morgan, pianist Bobby Timmons, and bassist Jymie Merritt, please enjoy Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers At the Jazz Corner of the World.

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 Film of the Week!

I didn't have as much time to write these weekly sermons as I thought I would (I'm also not in the mood to write too much this week), but given that I took last week off from writing these, I felt compelled to actually write something this week.

This week's film is just kind of a feel-good film that is one I frequently find myself watching on a Saturday night.  In a small Irish village, one of its denizens wins the lottery and dies before he can claim it--or, for that matter, before anyone realizes that he won... or that he died.  His friends who discover what happened, decide to claim the prize, eventually involving the entire village.

Starring Ian Bannen, David Kelly, and Fionulla Flanagan and written and directed by Kirk Jones, this week, from 1998,  I recommend Waking Ned Devine.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighboubrs, 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!

The last couple of weeks have been rough.  Between the election and the memorial service of one of my oldest friends, my vacation sucked.  When you factor in my return to work this past week... yeah, I know there are people in the world who have it considerably worse off than I do--but that doesn't mean that that has improved my mood over the last couple of weeks.

As such, I thought I'd submit a largely upbeat album.  In spite of the concept of a white English guy performing zydeco music, it still brings me a lot of joy when I hear it.  So this week, please enjoy Chris Jagger (and before you ask, yes, he is Mick's brother--in fact, Mick sings backup on a couple of tracks) with his 1995 album Rock the Zydeco.

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 Film of the Week!

One Christmas, when I was in junior high school, my father gave me the first two collections ("Galleries") of Gary Larson's legendary "Far Side" cartoons.  Most Christmas gifts from my parents were labeled as being from "Mom & Dad."  As I recall, this one was just from "Dad," which made it more of a father-son/male bonding kind of thing.  Of course, I could be recalling that incorrectly--it's been more than thirty-five years, after all--but, frankly, it's not the sort of thing Mom would have thought to give a teenage boy at that time.  At any rate, I fell in love with it.  I might even say it's still my favourite comic series.  (My favourite individual cartoon is still the scientist listening to whale songs--and under the water is a whale floating in front of a microphone singing "Louie Louie.")

There were a number of cartoons that I didn't quite get.  And it wasn't that I didn't get the premise, I just didn't get why it was funny.  Two guys are sitting in a rowboat and off in the distance they see a mushroom cloud--"I'll tell you what this means:  no size restrictions and screw the limits!"  Another cartoon showed a mushroom cloud depicted in the distance and one dog says to his friends, "On the one hand, no more carefree days of running in the park, chasing squirrels.  On the other hand, no more 'Fetch the stick, boy, fetch the stick!'"  Another showed a married couple underground in a bomb shelter, its walls completely lined with canned goods.  Above ground... well, another mushroom cloud (perhaps you're noticing a recurring theme here?).  The wife starts nagging, "Didn't I tell you this place wasn't much good without a can opener?"

This sounds harsh, and I don't intend it to be, but I blame the Mennonite Church for my not understanding the humour in those cartoons.  Mennonites are pacifists and are morally opposed to war or even military service.  Not only was I brought up in the Mennonite Church, but I was brought up in the Mennonite Church during the Cold War--I found myself worrying constantly about the outbreak of a nuclear war.  I even had some rather life-defining nightmares about it... well, I really only remember one nightmare, but that's still one too many for a teenage kid, if you ask me.  Truth be told, I was probably a bit paranoid about the whole thing.  And in the midst of that, here were these cartoons that showed people (and dogs) and what I thought were rather absurd responses to the end of the world.  At one point, I finally just asked my parents why these specific cartoons were funny.  They explained to me the concept of black or dark humour--the ability to laugh at things that aren't usually considered "funny."

At that moment, a switch was flipped in my brain.  Not only did those specific cartoons become funny, but it opened up a whole new--albeit a bit twisted--world and gave me a new perspective on comedy and even life.  I've certainly found it a useful coping mechanism when dealing with the absurdities of the world around me, especially in the last quarter century.  Sometimes I worry that my sense of humour--even my sensibilities in general--are a bit too dark.

When I was a sophomore in college, Dad introduced me to two films which today are tied for my favourite film(s) of all time.  This week's film is one of them.  It's a comedy about the events leading up to a nuclear war.  I'll give you a moment to let that concept sink in.  But I swear it's a really funny film.  I remember Dad telling me that he saw it when it came out in 1964.  He would have been fifteen at the time and Cold War tensions were considerably higher than they were at any point during my lifetime (our current international situation notwithstanding).  He said about the film, "You laugh at it and then you think, 'Shit!  This could happen!'"

Basic premise:  Air Force General Jack D. Ripper (played by Sterling Hayden) orders his planes to bomb the Soviet Union because he perceives the fluoridation of water to be a nefarious Communist plot.  The action shifts between Burpelson Air Force Base (where the bombing order originated), the crew of a B-52 bomber (who are trying to carry out the order), and the "War Room" at the Pentagon (where the President, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and even the Russian Ambassador are trying desperately to countermand the order in an effort to prevent a nuclear holocaust).

Peter Sellers played three different roles (each with a different nationality) and performed one of the best one-sided telephone conversations of all time.  I think it's also safe to say that western film legend Slim Pickens (please refer to my "sermon" on Blazing Saddles from last month) had the greatest death scene in cinema history.  Included in the cast are George C. Scott, Peter Bull, Keenan Wynn, Tracy Reed (the lone woman in the cast), and the great James Earl Jones in his film debut.

Stanley Kubrick not only produced and directed this film, he also co-wrote the screenplay with Terry Southern and Peter George (based on George's dramatic novel, Red Alert).  The film was ultimately nominated for four Academy Awards--Best Picture, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Actor (Sellers)--and listed at #3 on the American Film Institute's list of the 100 greatest film comedies.  I also like to point out that if you're a fan of the TV series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," the last season (particularly the episode titled "Get It Done") is ten times funnier if you've seen this film.  This week, I recommend Dr. Strangelove: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb!

Ill be taking next week off from these "sermons."  Until I return, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that truth is not always a pleasant thing.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

Ther Reverend Will the Thrill

 

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

I read an article recently about a whole bunch of movies that are celebrating their twenty-fifth anniversaries this year.  As someone who likes to watch films that are celebrating anniversaries that are divisible by five, I enjoyed the stroll down memory lane to re-acquaint myself with what I first saw a quarter century ago.  Lots of now classic films like The Sixth Sense and The Matrix (which I have to confess I only saw once on VHS a few years after the fact).  Some films that, after watching again, I think are as relevant today as they were then (specifically, believe it or not, South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut--begging the question, what exactly would Brian Boitano do if he were here right now?).  I was also pleased to see smaller films like Election on the list.

This got me thinking about albums that came out that year.  I Googled (which I'm pretty sure was not a verb in 1999) "Albums released in 1999."  It immediately produced a list of 51 albums--not exactly comprehensive, but a good start..  I was surprised to learn I owned four of them on that list including now classic works by Tom Waits, Fiona Apple, Moby, and Santana with his big comeback album that went on to win eight Grammy awards and forced me to explain to my own generation who Carlos Santana is.

Not only was this week's album not on that list, as I write this, I haven't found it on any other list (so far).  And yet, for some reason, it stands out to me more than the other albums released that year.

When it first came out, it was featured on a listening station in the music department at Barnes & Noble.  I was familiar with the group by name.  I had heard maybe three of their songs on the radio in their twenty year history (twenty-five years later, those are still the only songs of theirs that I can remember hearing over the airwaves).  What stuck in my head most, however, was a prime time special about "Saturday Night Live" that aired just before the show's fifteenth season.  Part of the program involved a montage of the show's musical guests over the previous decade and a half.  I don't know why the brief five second clip of the lead singer whose bangs practically covered her eyes stuck with me.  But for some reason it compelled me to check out their new album on that listening station.

I absolutely loved what I heard and immediately bought the album.  In the years since, I've acquired all but one of their studio albums.  I've enjoyed them all.  In fact, the song they did on "SNL" back in the day is my favourite of theirs (I even stole its title--"Don't Get Me Wrong"--for the name of this blog).  But whenever I hear this album, it takes me back to the summer of 1999--half my life ago--the summer I took over B&N's music department, the time I spent with my then-girlfriend, and my first crappy apartment.

Featuring guest appearances by Jeff Beck, David Johansen, and the Duke Quartet, liner note photos by Mary McCartney, and a cover photo by Linda McCartney, please enjoy The Pretenders with their 1999 album ¡Viva El Amor!

I'll be taking next week off for personal reasons.  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 and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week

Thought I'd continue the Halloween theme this week, since it's still the season for it...

As new forms of popular culture became more... well, popular during the early twentieth century, certain organizations started to fear that they were corrupting the youth of America by promoting depravity of all sorts.  Of course, those organizations felt it was their divine duty to try to protect us from these new forms of entertainment that were leading us astray.  Certainly, this is not new.  If you pay attention to the world today, we still see organizations that get offended by something, so they feel that they have to ban it to protect us all from the evil Judy Blume book... or whatever has gotten their panties in a wad this week.  (Can you tell that, as a son of a librarian, I don't think much of censorship?)  Two of the biggest targets at that time were films and comic books.

After some high-profile public scandals in the early 1920s--specifically the three manslaughter trials of silent film star Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle--Hollywood found itself under pressure from lawmakers and "decency" organizations to censor their content.  In 1921 alone, thirty-seven states introduced nearly 100 film censorship bills, many of which varied from region to region.  Rather than try to comply with all the different censorship laws around the country, the film studios felt the best solution was to censor themselves.  A man named Will Hays was brought in to help clean up Hollywood.  Hays was a Presbyterian elder who had in the past served as head of the Republican National Committee as well as Postmaster General during Warren Harding's presidency.  Hays created a list or "code" of what the studios could and couldn't show in their movies, based on complaints from local censor boards.  By the late 1920s, the studios had agreed not to show certain things and to be careful with how they showed other things, but there was little enforcement until 1934 when an amendment was added to the code which created the Production Code of America (PCA) requiring all movies released after 1 July of that year to carry a certificate of approval before it could be released.  Joseph Breen was appointed head of the PCA, and under his authority, things became much stricter.  Even Betty Boop had to change her appearance.

Obviously, this didn't sit well with a lot of people, but they abided by it anyway just so their films would be distributed.  There were some protests over the years.  My favourite was a photograph taken by Whitey Schafer in 1940 called "Thou Shalt Not" which depicted in just one still picture ten things that violated the Code.

But if you watch a lot of old movies, you may notice that films of certain genres made after 1934 do tend to be a bit mild compared to "Pre-Code" films.  This is particularly true in two popular styles of films--gangster pictures and horror films.  With the gangster films, it became taboo to actually depict any kind of illicit activity, including gambling and drinking.  The "bad guys" could never win.  With horror films, many of the plot lines revolved around supernatural rituals that many religious organizations considered blasphemous and evil including the "scientific" concept of re-animating dead tissue in 1931's Frankenstein.  In fact, many of those films were censored for theatrical re-releases after 1934.

By the late 1960s, the Code had become all but unenforceable and was replaced by the ratings system that is in place to this day... and there are still arguments over that (even from me).  Fortunately, due to film preservation, many of those Pre-Code films that were censored later on have been restored to their former glory.  While I've not read specifically what might have been censored from this horror classic to make it "suitable" for re-release after 1934, I assume it was.  And even if it wasn't, when I do watch it, I'm taken by how creepy the film still is, 92 years after its initial release.  I find myself wondering how different the film--along with Dracula, Frankenstein, and the other Universal horror films of that era--might have turned out if it had been made just a few short years later.

Cinematographer Karl Freund (who pioneered the three-camera system used today in shooting many television programs) directed this horror classic starring Zita Johann, David Manners, Arthur Byron, Edward Van Sloan, and--fresh off his star-making role as Frankenstein's monster--Boris Karloff as Imhotep.  Originally released in 1932, this week, just for the holiday season, I recommend The Mummy.

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!

When I first moved from southern Indiana to northern Indiana fifteen years ago (Good Lord!  Has it been that long?), I was still working in the music department for Barnes & Noble.  Because of the transfer, I no longer managed the department, but I found, much to my delight, that the music staff was populated by people who were bigger music geeks and snobs than I was which, frankly, is saying something.  We frequently had discussions about why this artist was overrated or why that album sucked.  If you've ever seen the John Cusack movie High Fidelity (or even--God forbid--read the book upon which it was based), you have a rough idea of what we were like, in spite of the overly corporate atmosphere in which we found ourselves working.  Like a lot of music geeks/snobs, we even had a tendency to speak in our own shorthand.  I remember one day, my friend Alex looked at me and just asked, "Hunky, Ziggy, Low, or Heroes?"  And while I did answer with Hunky [Dory], I still can't help but wonder why Aladdin [Sane] wasn't one of the choices? (If you didn't follow that, we were discussing David Bowie albums.)

One day, an interesting idea was brought up regarding artists we thought were overrated.  It wasn't that we didn't enjoy the music or thought that the artist really was overrated--we just tended to be put off by the fans who tended to idolize them to an annoying degree.  And I realize that I shouldn't judge here.  After all, I tend to be a bit effusive in my love of certain artists (specifically The Stones, Springsteen, and Florence + The Machine).  But in spite of that--at the risk of sounding hypocritical--I do find myself recoiling over the more rabid fan bases of artists like Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, and Beyoncé.  I'll be honest, even Parrotheads seem to bug me sometimes, and I consider myself to be a pretty big fan of Jimmy Buffett.

(SIDE NOTE:  How are Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce not collectively known as "Traylor"?  Think of the possibilities!  Their fans could be called the Traylor Park.  Haters would be Traylor Trash.  If they got married, it would be a Traylor Hitch.  If they break up, they can just say a tornado hit them.  These things practically write themselves.  All I ask for is a 5% cut of the merchandise profits.)

No fan base has been quite as revered (or reviled, depending on your perspective) as the fan base for the Grateful Dead, known as Deadheads.  Even just writing the word conjured up images in my head of a bunch of stoned hippies in a Volkswagen bus travelling across the country to catch the Dead's next concert.  Or some wannabe hippie who's younger than I am describing in pedantic detail the subtle nuances in Jerry Garcia's guitar solo on one live recording from 1972 versus another performance from 1987.  Those stereotypes are the kinds of things that make me not want to listen to the music.  But I find that by doing that, I tend to miss out on what can be some good stuff along the way.  (I'm sure I'll be addressing my aversion to Justin Bieber and his "Beliebers" in the near future.)

I'm a casual fan of the Dead.  I've only listened to a handful of their albums but, by and large, I like what I hear.  While they're considered a rock band who definitely have their roots in San Francisco during the Summer of Love (please refer to my "sermon" a couple of weeks ago regarding psychedelia and Jefferson Airplane), they were clearly influenced by folk, blues, country, bluegrass, and even jazz and world music as well.  If they were just starting out today, they would probably--and rightfully, in my opinion--be labeled with that catch-all term "Americana."

So, in honour of bassist Phil Lesh who passed away this week at the age of 84, please enjoy my favourite Dead album (of the few I've heard), 1970s Workingman's Dead.

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!)

I posted what follows on Facebook on 21 October, 2023.  I've been thinking a lot about it lately, particularly this week.  I've always been kind of proud of it... even if no one got my subtle "Magnum, P.I." joke...

I know what you're thinking.  You thought this week's album would be the new release by The Rolling Stones.  Yes, I was at Barnes & Noble as soon as they opened Friday morning.  Yes, I bought it in both vinyl and CD.  Yes, the album kicks serious ass (or "arse"--after all, this is a British band).  But my little voice was telling me that I should go in a decidedly less arse-kicking direction this week...

I do apologize in advance.  This week's "sermon" will probably ramble on more than it should.  I'm sure there will be plenty of my trademark parenthetical asides along the way and you may not even finish reading it.  I guess I wouldn't blame you--and I haven't even finished writing it yet!  But I had a weird night Tuesday and I'm writing this as a way of processing it.  Unfortunately, I don't really feel that I can do that without going into a whole lot of literary terms like "backstory" and "exposition," some of which I alluded to a few weeks back in my tribute to David McCallum.

"Well, now... it's story time again."

--Tom Waits, introduction to "Big Joe And Phantom 309," 1975

In 2016, my father and I bought a house together.  I still live there today.  When he got the cable set up, I sat down and was checking out all the free programming.  A lot of older movies, a lot of older television shows.  One that caught my attention was "Magnum, P.I.," which had originally aired on CBS from 1980 to 1988.  I remember seeing it as a kid.  It was one of Mom's favourite shows--she had a crush on Tom Selleck who became a star with the show's success (she even put a poster of him on our attic door).  I have to admit, I enjoyed it as well.  As I said a couple weeks ago, I've always liked detective/mystery shows.

So, just for shits and giggles, I started watching the show from the beginning.  What initially caught my attention was that the first eleven episodes did not include the iconic Mike Post/Pete Carpenter composed theme music.  The opening titles for those episodes used a completely different theme composed by Ian Freebairn-Smith.  I thought it was okay--better-suited to a show from the mid-1970s and not as great as the Post/Carpenter theme which I've said is one of the three coolest television themes of all time (the other two being "Hawaii Five-O" and "Mission: Impossible").  I've included links to both themes in the comments section if you want to compare and contrast.  Anyway, I watched the first four or five episodes.  Then Dad got really sick and I got involved with helping take care of him and I kind of forgot about it shortly after he died.

Two years later, I suddenly had to call an ambulance for Mom.  After going through what was the most emotionally draining day of my life (not only did I have the extreme concern for my mother's health and well being, but I also had the extreme joy of officiating my best friends' wedding, and switching back and forth between the two was exhausting in every way), she spent a week in the ICU and another week in a rehab facility.  I made it a point to be with her every evening and most afternoons.  We'd watch "Jeopardy!" together and then I would leave when visiting hours ended, at which point I would go home and, just for shits and giggles, started watching "Magnum" again from where I had left off.

I was almost to the point in the show where the theme music changed when suddenly it disappeared from my cable.  As it turned out, CBS was rebooting the series with a new cast and was on the verge of airing it in just a few weeks, so the original went bye-bye.  When Mom came back home, I was bemoaning this loss to her (we had been known to watch it together over the years, both in its original run and in syndication).  I had done some research and found that the DVD box set was relatively cheap for a series that ran that long and I proposed that we buy it together.  I also suggested we look at getting "The Rockford Files" which I remember her enjoying when I was really young.  "Rockford" was in many ways a predecessor to "Magnum."  (In fact, Tom Selleck had twice made a guest appearance on "Rockford" as a platitude-spewing Boy Scout of a P.I. named Lance White.)  Unfortunately, five years ago tomorrow, Mom died before we got the chance to do that.

In 2019, I ordered the "Magnum" box set, mostly to remember Mom.  Weirdly, some time later, I found "Rockford" pretty cheaply in, of all places, Menard's hardware store, so I bought it as well.  I began watching both shows, kind of alternating between the two over time.  It was a pleasant enough way to spend an evening and fostered a deep admiration for television theme songs composed by Mike Post and/or Pete Carpenter (who also did "Rockford" together... among many others).  I described it a couple of weeks ago as "TV comfort food."  In many ways, I feel like I'm bonding with Mom even though she's no longer with us.

I finally finished "Rockford" a couple weeks ago and have been making a conscious effort to finish "Magnum."  I sat down this past Tuesday to watch the last five episodes of the seventh season.  (And let me just say that Frank Sinatra should have gotten an Emmy nomination for his heartbreaking performance as a retired New York cop whose granddaughter had been murdered.)

The last episode of the season, titled "Limbo," begins with our hero getting shot in a warehouse before the opening credits.  Magnum tries to communicate with his inner circle of friends (Rick, T.C., Higgins, Carol Baldwin, and Agatha Chumley) and the woman he married in Vietnam (Michelle).  Even his mother (played by the legendary Gwen Verdon) comes to his side.  Unfortunately only the Doberman guards, Zeus and Apollo, seem to be able to see him.  It becomes obvious that he's lying in a coma and is having an out-of-body experience, witnessing his loved ones worry about whether or not he'll pull through  (I won't spoil it for you--you'll have to watch Season 8 for yourself to see if he surives) .  He's led on this journey by his old friend, Navy Lieutenant "Mac" McReynolds, who had been killed at the beginning of the third season.

Throughout the episode, one song song keeps popping up.  It plays after the opening credits where we see Magnum walking through a lush, isolated area overlooking the ocean.  Later in the episode, TC seems to be listening to it in his chopper, lost in contemplation over potentially losing his best friend.  Agatha plays it in Higgins's office at one point.  It even plays over the end credits.  The song was "Looking for Space" by John Denver, who happened to be Mom's favourite singer.  Not only did she have a poster of Tom Selleck on the attic door, but she had a framed picture of John Denver in her library.  The seemingly random combination of her favourite singer and one of her favourite actors hit me on a gut level.  I actually started crying... in the middle of an episode of "Magnum Freaking P.I."!  The lyrics to the song actually moved me--not something I'm used to feeling from a John Denver song, I assure you.  I actually couldn't get the song out of my head for a day and a half.

I've had numerous moments in my life (and maybe you have too) where I got the distinct impression when hearing certain pieces of music that a long-lost relative was hanging out... haunting me in the nicest of ways.  I felt my late uncle was in my moving truck as I was preparing to move into his former office in 2009.  I'm pretty sure Dad was hanging out in that club in Chicago the night of the Mr. T Experience show in 2016.  My grandmother has always seemed to have a habit of showing up when I least expect her.  I don't get that sensation if I intentionally play those songs--they have to play without my planning, such as on the radio or randomly on my phone... or even on TV.  But I definitely got the impression Mom was hanging out watching "Magnum" with me like we used to do when I was a kid.  And with the fifth anniversary of her passing coming up, perhaps I really needed it at that moment.  Moms are supposed to be good at knowing those sorts of things.

So, much to my own dismay, I present this week the album featuring the song that spent more time rattling around my consciousness this week than any John Denver song should, 1975's Windsong, which also features his hits "Calypso," "I'll Fly Away," and "I'm Sorry."

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that time has little to do with infinity and jelly doughnuts.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

To compare and contrast, here is the original "Magnum, P.I." theme composed by Ian Freebairn-Smith that was used for the first eleven episodes:

Versus the more recognized theme composed by Mike Post and Pete Carpenter that was used for the rest of the series as well as the 2018 reboot: