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

This week's film is one of those that I seem to be drawn to repeatedly for reasons unbeknownst to me.  Since high school, when my sister and I watched The Blues Brothers so many times that we memorized the dialogue, I've found myself going through periods where I can't stop watching a particular movie--sometimes multiple times a week.  I once watched Grosse Point Blank four times over a period of eight days during the spring of 2000.  As I've gotten older, my life seems to be surprisingly more harried than it used to be, so I haven't done anything like that in quite some time.  But I still find myself wanting to watch certain movies over and over again.  Most of these films fall into the category of what I call "Saturday Night Movies"--usually romantic comedies that I feel are best appreciated on Saturdays, particularly after the sun goes down.  This week's film is one of those.

As a birthday gift to myself last week, I went to Barnes & Noble and browsed their collection of Criterion blu-rays and DVDs.  I couldn't believe my good fortune to discover that this week's film selection had been released in a Criterion edition just this past February.  In fact, it was just a few weeks ago that I thought to myself that this would be an ideal movie for Criterion to release.  It's a small, but incredibly charming film, which may be one of the things that I'm drawn to.  The fact that Peter Riegert stars in it doesn't hurt either--between this, Local Hero (1983) and, of course, National Lampoon's Animal House (1978), he's quickly become one of my favourite actors.  And even though I'm not Jewish, I'm also fascinated with Jewish culture which is a big part of the picture.  (In fact, one studio apparently didn't want to make it because they deemed it "too ethnic"--even though the studio was largely run by Jewish executives.)

The main character, Isabelle (played by Amy Irving in a Golden Globe nominated performance), works in an independent bookstore in New York City where she arranges events with big time writers.  She periodically looks after her grandmother, or "bubbie," (Reizl Bozyk) and hangs out with her friends and thinks she has a great life.  But her bubbie doesn't like the fact that she lives alone so she sets up an appointment with a matchmaker and before too long she is begrudgingly introduced to Sam Posner (Riegert) who makes pickles for a living.  In the meantime, she finds herself strangely attracted to a famous writer, Anton Maes (Jeroen Krabbé), who will be doing a reading and signing at her store.  And occasionally her friend Nick (John Bedford Lloyd) will spend the night at her apartment even though he's involved with another woman.  Suddenly she doesn't know what's going on, at least not in her personal life.

I have a vague recollection of the film when it was first released, but I didn't see it for many years.  (I was also 14 when it came out--I don't think I would have appreciated it as much then as I do today.)  I first saw this film on Turner Classic Movies in a hotel room at the Days Inn in Ronks, Pennsylvania (don't ask why I remember that).  I was taken with it even then--enough that I knew I would like to add it to my personal film library.  Eventually, I found a copy and--surprise, surprise!--found myself watching it many times over.  I couldn't resist grabbing the Criterion edition last week because I knew that not only would the sound and picture quality would be better than the DVD I had, but there would also be extra features beyond just the film's trailer that I knew I would just eat up.

This is another example of where the supporting cast makes the movie.  For as much as you get caught up in the characters of Isabelle, Anton, and Sam, Reizl Bozyk steals every scene she's in as Isabelle's bubbie.  It should be noted that she was famous in Yiddish theater for many years and this is the only film she made in English.

The movie co-stars Sylvia Miles, George Martin, David Hyde Pierce, Claudia Silver, Suzzy Roche, and Rosemary Harris.  Written by Susan Sandler (based on her play) and directed by Joan Micklin Silver, this week, from 1988 (despite what the attached trailer says), I highly recommend Crossing Delancey.

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!

Record Store Day was two weeks ago.  Last weekend was my birthday.  As you can imagine, during that time, I picked up quite a bit of new media, which always makes great fodder for these weekly "sermons."  As far as the music is concerned, some of it was new to me--maybe an album I had not heard by an artist I liked (in this case, I'm thinking specifically of Chris Isaak).  Some of it was new music I had been looking forward to such as the recently released collaboration by Elton John and Brandi Carlile.  In some cases, I might know one song by a particular artist--such as The Hindu Love Gods or Bob Lind--and enjoyed it enough that I wanted to hear more and so I purchased an entire album(s).

This week's album was one of a couple of special re-releases for RSD.  I always liked the album--I even own it on CD, but I hadn't listened to it in quite some time.  So I bought this special release--a picture disc featuring the original cover artwork on the record itself.  Playing it later on my turntable was.. well, frankly, rather a joyful experience.  It's not that I had forgotten how upbeat the group's music was and still is.  I just hadn't listened to it, let alone felt that "upbeatness," for lack of a better word, in a long time.  When I think about it, isn't that kind of the point?  If we're drawn to art--whether it be painting, film, music, literature, sculpture, whatever--many of us don't just appreciate it.  We feel it.  We're moved by it.  And different works of art affect different people differently.

"People's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic--they either love it or they hate it.  If they love it, they will always love it.  If they don't, they may learn to appreciate it.  But it will never become part of their soul."

--Richard Gere as Edward Lewis in Pretty Woman, 1990

Listening to this album again brought back memories that I'm not sure I actually experienced... although that may be the kitschy, retro-sci-fi intro of the first song talking.  To be fair, it did bring back a lot of actual memories, particularly the fact that a hit from one of their later albums was a staple at every dance I attended in college during the early to mid-1990s.  As I said, the whole experience was joyful.  It was hard to sit still--at least one of my limbs was constantly keeping time to the music in some fashion.  It was even harder to not smile.  Consequently, this week I feel compelled to implore you, dear reader, to dance this mess around as I'm recommending the B-52's with their 1979 eponymous debut album.

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

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

I don't like to gush about a lot of things.  I hate being "that person" who won't stop yammering on about something they have a passion for.  But there are one or two things that I am unashamedly effusive about.  This week's film is one of them and I'm trying to figure out how I've never featured it in one of these "sermons" before.

I became familiar with it when it was first released on DVD.  We carried it in the music department at Barnes & Noble.  It's a film about music--specifically Motown.  As a fan of Motown, I took a look at it.  The statistic on the front of the DVD case caught my attention the most and still boggles my mind more than twenty years later:  "They played on more #1 records than the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Rolling Stones, and Elvis Presley combined..."  I'll let you do the math on that.  Based on that tagline alone, I rushed over to my video rental place.  (Remember those?  I think I may still have my membership card somewhere.)  The music geek in me was moved and would never be the same.

Who are these musical geniuses, you may be asking?  Los Angeles had The Wrecking Crew.  Memphis had Booker T. & The MGs at Stax.  And Detroit had...  The Funk Brothers.

The Funk Brothers were some of the finest jazz and blues musicians playing in Detroit clubs in the late 1950s, many of whom had migrated north to work in the car factories.  Berry Gordy Jr., who founded Motown Records in 1959, had converted his garage into a recording studio and hired these musicians to play for his fledgling label.  For the next 13 years, they played for every artist to record in that studio--Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, The Four Tops, The Supremes, Stevie Wonder, and Martha Reeves & The Vandellas, just to name a few.  Like a lot of people, I grew up listening to Martha and Stevie and Marvin and the Temps and the Tops, but I had never heard of the Funk Brothers until seeing this film.  That's because they never received credit on the records until Marvin Gaye's 1971 epic What's Going On--a year before Gordy closed up shop in Detroit and relocated to Los Angeles.

This film absolutely changed the way I listened to music.  I already had a habit of paying attention to certain parts of songs in my favourite recordings--drums, piano, whatever.  After seeing this film, I became even more attuned to individual parts of songs.  As an example, take the song "Bernadette" by The Four Tops.  James Jamerson was such a genius bass player that if you listen to his work on this track, it almost doesn't sound like it goes with the rest of the song.  But it fits beautifully.  AND HE DID IT WITH ONE FINGER!!!!  It's no wonder that today, Jamerson is considered by many to be the greatest bass player of all time.

The bonus features on the DVD include mini biographies of the musicians.  In these, percussionist extraordinaire Jack Ashford is described as a "tambourine virtuoso," which... well, frankly, is not a phrase I would have ever uttered.  But then I listened closely to his tambourine on Edwin Starr's "War," which was absolutely mind-blowing.  I have never heard the tambourine played like that before or since, and I doubt it ever will be again.

The biggest change that it made in my music listening habits is that when I listen to Motown recordings today, I no longer hear Marvin or Smokey or The Temptations... I hear The Funk Brothers.

Perhaps the best review I can give of the film is as follows--after being completely enraptured by this film, I bought my own copy.  At one point, I loaned it to my dear friend Tad Sare as well as my father.  We all watched it individually of each other.  When we spoke to each other about it later, we all said, "Yeah, I cried at the end."

Released in 2002, the film is part documentary, part concert.  It tells the story of these amazing musicians interspersed with performances from a reunion concert that brought together the surviving Funk Brothers playing their hits sung by contemporary (twenty years ago) artists including Gerald Levert, Ben Harper, Montell Jordan, Chaka Khan, Joan Osborne, Bootsy Collins, and Meshell Ndegeocello.  Narrated by the great Andre Braugher, written by Walter Dallas, Ntozake Shange, and Alan "Dr. Licks" Slutsky (based on Slutsky's book), and directed by Paul Justman, I cannot recommend highly enough Standing in the Shadows of Motown.  Even if you don't like Motown, if you fancy yourself a music lover, you should check out this movie.

I will be taking next week off from these weekly musings.  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 Album of the Week!

It's been a long weekend and I'm not even halfway through it.  I had to work until 11pm last night.  Then I had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn--really before the butt-crack of dawn--to drive to Goshen.  Today is Record Store Day (or "RSD," as it's called in our increasingly abbreviated society), and even though there are a couple places in South Bend and Mishawaka that are celebrating it, Ignition Music Garage in Goshen is my preferred destination for my favourite holiday.  So, trying to function on, at best, four hours of sleep, I drove an hour out of my way to the city of my birth.  When I arrived shortly before 6am, the line already extended to the end of the block.  I took my place at the back of it and proceeded to stand in line for two hours, exhaling steam the entire time because it was 30 degrees outside--someone apparently forgot to tell God it's spring.  But the store's proprietor was really groovy and kept us going with coffee and doughnuts.  She even conducted a trivia contest about an hour before the store opened.  (I got 11 of the 20 questions correct which, given the difficulty of some of them, I think is respectable.  I even managed to score a free Led Zeppelin t-shirt for my efforts.)

As is usually the case, there was one "streamer" who drove past shortly after I arrived who couldn't figure out why we were lined up around the block while it was still dark outside.  Although this guy seemed pretty cool about it, in the past I have noticed eye rolling and head shaking on the part of the person who asked, as if they feel sorry for us.  Since I don't kink shame anyone for their geeky obsessions, it always bothers me when other people do.  Next year I'll be prepared.  When asked why we're lined up around the block before sunrise, I'll just say that we're here for the demonstration--we heard that the streaming services are trying to lobby Congress to pass a bill outlawing all forms of physical media and we plan to protest.  KEEP SPOTIFY OUT OF OUR GOVERNMENT!!!!  (By the way, this isn't really happening, at least not to the best of my knowledge, but I've always wanted to start a bizarre left-wing conspiracy theory, so if anyone wants to run with this, you have my blessing.)

Sadly, I couldn't stay long as I had other things going on today, including going back to work.  But I got what I think was a respectable haul including some live David Bowie, Françoise Hardy, the Asteroid City soundtrack (a leftover from a previous RSD event--I haven't even been able to get that one on CD), and special RSD reissues of albums by The B-52's, The Hindu Love Gods, and my beloved Rolling Stones.  I also picked up a couple of used CDs that I felt that I should have by Nick Cave and Jimmy Buffett... what can I say?  My tastes are nothing if not eclectic.

I've said in the past that when I'm in a record store, I feel like I'm on hallowed ground.  It sounds kind of corny, but it does feel like a religious and/or spiritual pilgrimage of sorts, at least for me.  So many of us, consciously or not, need to have music in our lives.  We use music to fill holes in our souls and help us deal with the dramas and traumas in our everyday lives.  We associate certain pieces of music with important points in our lives, kind of like our own personal soundtrack.  We curate our own playlists for certain activities in our lives (what used to be known as mix discs, what used to be known as mix tapes--and yes, I still have a few of those from my youth).  Admittedly, like your more orthodox religions, some of us are more obsessive about it than others.  Today was no different.  There was something uplifting about the whole thing.  I'm still kind of coming down from it even as I write this.  So, if you still enjoy physical media--vinyl, CDs, or even cassettes--support your local record stores!  The one thing I dislike about religion is prosyletization--this is about as close as I get to it.

"Now... I told you that story to tell you this one."

--Bill Cosby, "Buck Buck," 1967 (Am I even allowed to quote him these days?  Tough--I'm doing it anyway.)

Shortly before I left Bloomington in 2009, I made a point of doing a lot of little things that I knew I would miss.  One afternoon, I had lunch with my dear friend Beverly at Nick's English Hut, I went to the Eskanazi Museum of Art on the campus of Indiana University, and then I played some pool at the Indiana Memorial Union.

It had been awhile since I'd been to the Union.  Since my last visit, they had installed a widescreen television in the billiards area which was showing a baseball game that afternoon.  I assembled my cue (Keith) and set up the table.  In my back pocket, I had a portable Sony Discman and a CD I had recently purchased.  I had a pool table in front of me and great blues music blaring into my ears, all while my Chicago Cubs beat the Cincinnati Reds 7-3.  (FULL DISCLOSURE--apparently there was a double-header that day and the Reds won the other game 4-2.)  It was by far, the most fun I had ever had playing pool.  The only way it could have been better was if I had a cigar, a glass of Scotch, and my dad to play against me, which isn't as melancholy as it sounds--he was still alive at that time.  I consider myself so spoiled by the experience that I haven't been able to play pool anywhere else in the sixteen years since.  It shouldn't be any surprise to anyone that I even made a pool playing playlist for when I get to do it again.

Flash-forward a decade:  RSD, 2019.  While looking through all the new releases laid out on a table, I saw what I consider to be one of the greatest album covers of all time.  I was absolutely delighted to find that that same album I had listened to that afternoon in the pool hall at the IU Memorial Union ten years earlier was getting a special RSD vinyl (MONO!) reissue.  Needless to say, I grabbed it immediately.  As I said, most of us tend to associate certain pieces of music with certain moments in our lives.  This is one of those odd albums that I can honestly say I have two distinct memories of at two distinct moments in my life, both of which I look back on with fondness.

This week, it's my pleasure to share with you the one and only Albert King and his landmark, classic, watershed, insert your own hyperbolic adjectives here, album released on the Stax label in 1967.  Featuring the equally legendary Booker T. & the MGs, Isaac Hayes, and the Memphis Horns, please enjoy Born Under a Bad Sign.

As always, my thanks to the staff of Ignition Music Garage in Goshen, Indiana, for hosting today's festivities.  I really need to make a point of getting over there more than once a year.

I will be taking next week off from these weekly ramblings.  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

Or, if you're one of those people who typically prefers stereo recordings, you can check out that version of the album at:

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

"February 8, 1964, there was not one single rock 'n' roll band in the country.  February 9, The Beatles played 'The Ed Sullivan Show.'  February 10, everyone had one... My life began on February 9, 1964."

--"Little" Steven Van Zandt (quoted in Esquire magazine, December, 2008)

Since its inception, rock and roll has always meant different things to different people.  For some it's teenage rebellion.  For others it was a breakdown in society.  Some even believed Satan had a hand in it.  For me, it's always represented raucous joy.  After more than 65 years, I still think the greatest guitar riff ever played was Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode."  It's hard not to smile when you hear that.  You just want to get up and dance... or at least I do.  And many artists of rock's first decade did that for us--Little Richard, Bo Diddley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Bill Haley, Carl Perkins, and of course Elvis Presley.  But they were also doing it for kids in other countries who then reminded us of how joyful and fun our music is.  I've always found it interesting that when the British Invasion began in 1964, English musicians who had grown up on American rock and roll from the likes of Chuck Berry and Little Richard came to our shores playing covers of those songs and essentially re-introducing us to our own music.  They reminded us that rock and roll music is, at its heart, fun and joyous.  Or at least that's how it appears to this outside observer.  When I think of The Beatles, a lot of things come to mind, both good and bad, but one thing that always stands out to me is Paul McCartney's count-off on "I Saw Her Standing There."  There's just so much infectious energy and excitement coming through it that you just can't wait to hear what comes next.

Rock's detractors will always go to the same arguments--they're only playing three chords, you can't hear what they're singing, they can't sing at all, it's just noise, blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., etc.  And if you were fortunate enough to have studied in a conservatory and only know classical music which calls for technical proficiency, it's easy to make those arguments.  Don't get me wrong, I love classical music, but not everyone is that fortunate and a lot of people who didn't go to a conservatory feel they have a song in them that needs to be played as well.  Why should they be denied that opportunity because they only know three chords?  As a result, frequently raw emotion is employed to compensate for a lack of technical proficiency.  Personally, I'll take heart over proficiency any day of the week and twice on Sundays--even in classical music.

"There's a lot more to music than notes on the page.  [Putting "Louie Louie" by the Kingsmen on the turntable] These guys for example.  Now... they can't sing, and they have absolutely no harmonic sense, and they're playing the same three chords over and over again.  And I love it... Because playing music is supposed to be fun.  It's about heart.  It about feelings and it's about moving people and something beautiful and being alive and it's not about notes on a page!  I could teach you notes on a page.  I can't teach you that other stuff."

--Richard Dreyfuss as Glenn Holland in Mr. Holland's Opus, 1995

Once The Beatles played "The Ed Sullivan Show," teenagers across the country (and others, I'm sure) began forming garage bands with dreams of rock and roll stardom, playing high school dances and clubs, and possibly even getting laid (which, arguably, was the real reason to be in a band in the first place).  While most eventually fell apart, some were fortunate enough to become "one hit wonders."  A few even managed to achieve lasting fame over the years.  My favourites were the ones who, in spite of massive success, could still at least project the impression that they were having a lot of fun and taking joy in what they were doing.

This week's album is an example of one that's likely lacking in technical proficiency (I'm not a musician, so I can't say for certain), but compensates for that in emotion and overall attitude.  It's a fun album to listen to and when I do, I hear a great garage/bar band that's just having a good time and not caring about much else.

When singer Steve Mariott left the Small Faces to form Humble Pie with Peter Frampton, the remaining Small Faces brought in two members of the Jeff Beck Group--singer Rod Stewart and guitarist Ronnie Wood.  They dropped the "Small" from their name and became simply the Faces.  (Their first album with this new lineup, 1970s First Step, was still credited to Small Faces when it was released in North America.)  This week's album is their third and most commercially successful, featuring their biggest hit, "Stay With Me."  Stewart was already on his way to solo stardom by this point having released three albums including what I think is his masterpiece, Every Picture Tells a Story, released the same year.  And in spite of that, it still sounds like five guys enjoying their company, having a good time, and playing with gusto.  From 1971, please enjoy The Faces with A Nod Is As Good As a Wink... To a Blind Horse.

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!

It's been said that comedy is harder than drama.  As Charlie Chaplin once quipped (and he should know), "Anyone can make them cry, but it takes a genius to make them laugh."  I have to admit, the older I get, the more I'm drawn to comedy.  It's the reason I've never seen Brokeback Mountain (2005)--I knew it wasn't going to be a laugh riot, so I passed.  (There's a much longer story behind that, but I won't presume to bore you with it here).

What I've never understood is why, if comedy is harder, does drama get all the respect and prestige?  Why do comedic performances seldom receive Oscar nominations, and even fewer of them actually win?  When an actor dies, everybody starts ticking off the dramatic roles--the ones the critics loved that got a lot of accolades.  As an example, let's look at Gene Hackman who just passed away a few weeks back.  He received five Oscar nominations in his career, winning two for The French Connection (1971) and Unforgiven (1992).  All five of those nominations were for dramatic performances.  And while all the broadcast tributes were quick to point out that he was quite adept at both comedy and drama, the comedies tended to get glossed over, certainly by the Academy.  I've always felt his work The Birdcage (1996) gets funnier with every viewing (I never realized how much he looked like Phyllis Diller).  His performance in Young Frankenstein (1974) was one of the greatest cameos of all time.  I don't know what was funnier:  the look on Peter Boyle's face when he realizes his thumb is on fire or Hackman's line "Wait!  Where are you going?  I was going to make espresso," which he apparently ad-libbed, causing the crew to crack up which is why the scene fades out so quickly.  But when most people think of Hackman, the first things that pop into our heads are usually Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle and "Little" Bill Daggett--maybe Coach Norman Dale if you live in Indiana.  But probably not Senator Kevin Keeley or Harry Zimm in Get Shorty (1995), or even Lex Luthor in the Superman films which could be argued to be comedic.

We lost another great actor this week who was adept at both comedy and drama.  But when we talk about Val Kilmer, the first things people talk about are his dramatic performances in films like the Top Gun franchise (1986 and 2022), The Doors (1991), Tombstone (1993), and Heat (1995).  They are also quick to mention his (in my opinion) underrated performance as The Caped Crusader in Batman Forever (1995), but, apart from the spy spoof Top Secret! (1984) which they only mention because it was his film debut, his comedic performances tend to get brushed aside.  Don't get me wrong, when I saw Top Gun: Maverick (2022) in a theater, I think it's safe to say that when Iceman showed up on screen, there wasn't a dry eye in the house.  It was likely the most beautiful moment in what I think is one of the greatest sequels ever filmed.  But films like the darkly comic Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005) or MacGruber (2010) seldom get mentioned.

So this week, I want to celebrate the life and career of one of my generation's most beloved actors.  As much as I appreciate Val Kilmer's dramas--and I do--this week's film is perhaps my all-time favourite of his because it never ceases to make me laugh.  In it, he plays Chris Knight, a super smart math and science wiz who is in his final year at a prestigious engineering college where he and some other students (including his new 15-year-old prodigy roommate, played by Gabe Jarrett) are helping develop a specialized laser for their professor.  Included in the cast are Jon Gries as Lazlo Hollyfeld (who later went on to play Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite and, coincidentally, was also in Get Shorty with Gene Hackman) and William Atherton as Professor Jerry Hathaway (which, like his characters in Ghostbusters and Die Hard, is another total prick, which Atherton seemed to be typecast as during that time).  But the real star of the film is Kilmer who, in his second feature film, seems to use his entire body in his performance, particularly in his facial expressions... and his wardrobe.  This film was written by Neil Israel, Pat Proft, and Peter Torokvei (from a story by Israel and Proft) and directed by Martha Coolidge.  From 1985, this week I recommend Real Genius.

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