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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll,

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

 

 

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

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

If you've already checked out this week's featured album, you probably noticed that I submitted an album by someone who was primarily known as an actor.  And even though it's an obvious choice, this week's film starred someone who was primarily known as a singer.

Tim Curry's death was a blow to many.  Admittedly, he had not been doing well for some time, so it wasn't wholly unexpected.  But, at the same time, I think it hurt that much more because it came a day after losing musician, actress, philanthropist, and national treasure Dolly Parton.

I've always admired the hell out of Dolly Parton, particularly for her philanthropic work, particularly when it came to children's literacy.  And while she made headlines for her substantial charitable donations, I get the impression that there was so much more she did behind the scenes--anonymously--that we'll never know about and that makes me admire her even more.

As a person, she never ceased to put a smile on my face.  Whenever I saw an interview with her, she would always crack a joke or three, often at her own expense, famously pointing out that it cost a lot of money to make her look that cheap.  It was hard not to love her.

I always appreciated her humility.  Initially, she turned down induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame because she felt that she was primarily a country artist.  I've always felt that anyone who turns down an honour because they genuinely feel they're not worthy of it is someone to be respected.  (SPOILER ALERT:  She "paid her dues" and recorded a rock album with a lot of rock based special guests and then agreed to be inducted.)

In spite of that, I must confess, it's only been in the last ten years or so that I've been able to appreciate her work as a musician.  I know I'm in the minority, but I never particularly cared for her voice.  I don't know what it was exactly--there were plenty of singers who had similar qualities to their voices and I didn't dislike them!  As I said, it has grown on me in recent years, and I can appreciate it a lot more than I used to.

But I tended to enjoy her acting work in such films as The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas and Steel Magnolias as well as the occasional television appearance, usually playing herself.  (If you've never seen Seth MacFarlane's sci-fi/comedy "The Orville," I can't recommend it highly enough--even though it takes place centuries in the future, she actually appeared in one episode of the third season as herself--long story, you kind of have to see it.)

Like I said, this week's film choice is an obvious one, but when one thinks of Dolly Parton as an actress, this is usually the first film that gets mentioned--no doubt because it was actually her first film.  Co-star Jane Fonda actually picked her to play the role of Doralee Rhodes.  In addition to playing Doralee, she also wrote the title song to the film, receiving her first of two Oscar nominations for Best Original Song in a Motion Picture.

In the film, Parton, Fonda, and Lily Tomlin play office co-workers who have had it with their "sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot" of a boss (played as only Dabney Coleman could play him).  Through an extraordinarily comic turn of events that involves not just undermining his authority, but also accidental poisoning, kidnapping, and humiliation, they get to live out everyone's fantasy of getting even with a bad boss--especially if you were a woman in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Released in 1980, the film was directed by Colin Higgins who also co-wrote the film with Patricia Resnick.  Co-starring Elizabeth Wilson, Lawrence Pressman, Henry Jones, and the great Sterling Hayden, please enjoy 9 to 5.

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

One of my favourite things about The New York Times is their obituary section.  I know it sounds kind of morbid, but it's a great way to learn about people.  As an example, I read their obit on Noël Godin just the other day.  I'd never even heard of this guy, but he sounds like someone I would have liked to have known.

As I'm writing this, I'm just finding out about Jon Small, who long time readers might recognize from my post on 23 May of this year.  I also learned a lot about him that I didn't know.  In fact, one of the great things about reading these obituaries is learning things I didn't know about people that I already admired.

During the weeks I was away from writing these, we lost the great Tim Curry.  I was a fan of his work from the time I was a child when I first saw him in the villainous role of Rooster Hannigan in Annie.  (I even discovered we shared a birthday, which utterly delighted me.)  Over the years, I became quite enamoured with his work.  In spite of his penchant for playing villains, which I get the impression he relished, I loved watching him move so seamlessly between comedy, drama, horror, sci-fi, and musicals--and that was just in The Rocky Horror Picture Show!  He even managed to have a side hustle as a voice actor in many animated films and television series aimed at children.

His Times obituary mentioned something that caught me off guard.  Between 1978 and 1981, Curry released three albums.  I don't know why this caught me off guard--between Rocky Horror and Spamalot it's not like I was unaware of his singing capabilities.  I guess I just always associated him with stage musicals instead of more "pop" fare.  This intrigued me--and, frankly, continues to do so--so, naturally, I did further research.

The albums featured covers of songs by the likes of Joni Mitchell, Irving Berlin, John Sebastian, The Beatles, Squeeze, Burt Bacharach/Hal David, and Screamin' Jay Hawkins.  Starting with his second album, Curry began recording his own compositions, co-writing six of the album's original nine songs, the bulk of them with either guitarist Dick Wagner (who had previously worked with Lou Reed and Alice Coooper) or famed composer Michael Kamen who also played keyboards and oboe on the album.  That formula, for lack of a better word, continued on his third and final album.

This week, primarily because I don't remember anyone else mentioning it in all the TV news reports I saw, I thought I would submit Tim Curry's second and--peaking at #53 on Billboard's Top 200 Album chart--most commercially successful album.  Originally released in 1978, the album featured, in addition to Wagner and Kamen, legendary musicians such as David Sanborn on the saxophone and Motown bassist Bob Babbitt.  Please enjoy Fearless (the expanded edition featuring "single edits" of certain songs).  God knows I did.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that it's not easy having a good time.  Even smiling makes my face ache.

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

Due to other things going on, I haven't had a chance to write anything new, although not for lack of having something to say.  I will do my best to return next week.  In the meantime, I wanted to share one from the past.  I wrote the following on Facebook on 27 January, 2024.  I found myself listening to the album again yesterday and consequently found myself feeling the same things I felt then.  It's interesting how some things stick with you like that, even years after the fact...

 

I hope everyone had a good holiday season. I must admit, I'm returning to these a little later than I had initially planned. It's been an odd couple of weeks and I'm in a bit of a funk. Everything's been happening all at once and our recent spate of winter weather pushed me closer to the edge than I like to get and it certainly did my joints no favours. Maybe... possibly... perhaps, it pushed me close to the edge because it did my joints no favours... just guessing.

During my absence from these weekly missives, I've discovered some new titles, some of which I'm sure I'll be sharing in the upcoming weeks, and I've been revisiting some "old friends" that I hadn't listened to in their entirety for some time.

One of those "old friends" is the album I'll be sharing with you this week. At some point during the holidays, I went through a period of binge-listening the artist in question. Some of the songs on one album in particular kind of hit me in a certain way. I didn't just hear them—I felt them. On some level, I'm still feeling them, especially (tonight) the title track... that's been happening a lot lately. So this week please enjoy John Hiatt with his 2001 album, The Tiki Bar Is Open .

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!

Honestly, I should have done this a couple weeks ago, but I wanted a chance to re-watch the movie in question.  Strangely enough, as great as I thought it was nearly 20 years ago when I first saw it, I had really only seen it... well, once.

In the movie, Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová play "Guy" and "Girl."  Guy works with his father repairing vacuum cleaners, but his true passion is music.  In his spare time, he can be seen busking on the streets of Dublin playing his songs with aspirations of moving to London to try to make a living as a musician.

Girl happens to see him playing and approaches him.  The two strike up a conversation where Guy discovers that Girl also plays piano.  He shows her his songs and they start playing together.  Over the course of a few days, before he heads off to London, they get together with some other musical friends to record some of Guy's songs in a professional studio.  As you might guess, Guy and Girl fall in love.

The film became the darling of the Sundance Film Festival and was one of the most critically acclaimed films of 2007.  In 2008, it went on to win an Academy Award for the song "Falling Slowly" (written by Hansard and Irglová), beating out three songs from Disney's Enchanted.

I received a text a couple of weeks ago from my uncle (whose name, oddly enough, is actually Guy), informing me that Hansard had been killed in a motorcycle accident.  I was loosely familiar with Hansard's music outside of the film, but immediately felt bad that I wasn't as familiar with his work as so many music geeks my age.

Hansard had begun his career in the 1990s as a member of the Irish rock band The Frames.  Over the years, he also worked as a solo artist and formed the band The Swell Season.  He and Irglová even continued to work together both professionally and personally for a couple of years after the success of the film.  I'm sure his sudden death will prompt me to explore his music further and wish I had been more familiar with it when he was alive. 

This week's film--the one that was all the rage at Sundance back in '07--was written and directed by John Carney, who was a former bassist and vocalist for the Frames and knew Hansard well.  Hansard had last acted nearly 15 years earlier in the classic The Commitments and had been primarily focused on his music.  But Carney convinced him to do it and the results speak for themselves.  I don't know why I waited so long to re-watch the movie and I'm sad that it took Hansard's death to get me to do so.  Now that it's a little more fresh in my mind, I'm sure I won't wait as long next time.  This week, please enjoy Once... preferably more than once.

As stated in my Album of the Week "sermon," I'll be taking the next couple of weeks off from writing these.  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!

Long-time readers of this blog--if, in fact, they exist--know that I'm something of an old-school romantic when it comes to certain things.  However, the older I get, and the more technology changes--and not always for the better, in my opinion--the harder it is to do.

One thing that I've been adamant about for many years now is that Bruce Springsteen, particularly with the E Street Band, sounds better in a vehicle with a stick shift.  I scientifically proved this in the spring of 2002.  (Actually, I think I technically proved it in the fall of 1998 with The Who, but I didn't understand what I was experiencing in the moment.)

In fact, I've come to believe that any type of "driving music" sounds better in a stick shift.  George Thorogood, ZZ Top, Meat Loaf, Blondie... even great jazz music.  There's something tactile and visceral about the whole experience.  Part of it is the art of matching the music with environmental elements like weather or time of day--certain things sound better in the rain or at night or in the autumn than they do at other times.  I realize not everyone thinks of or even notices these things, so you're just going to have to trust me on this: Leon Redbone is best appreciated on a sunny Sunday afternoon in October, especially if you're going to be driving while playing his music.

Again, I know I tend to romanticize these sorts of things.  But if you've never shifted into a higher gear when Roger Daltrey lets out that primal scream in "Won't Get Fooled Again," well... I guess you'll just never know.

As I stated last week, I don't have room for my entire music library on my phone.  So I like to play certain CDs, particularly during my work commute, that I might not listen to otherwise.  Often, it's something I haven't listened to in awhile--something I likely knew I wouldn't listen to all that much which is why it's not on the phone to begin with.  When I listen to those albums again, I'm often transported back to a time when I first heard it, often evoking a lot of memories of and nostalgia for the period, reminding me of why I bought the CD in the first place.

My clutch burned out about three years ago.  Those things are expensive to replace and I've never been able to afford to get it fixed.  So I've been driving my backup car ever since... you guessed it--an automatic.  Even after all this time, I still find myself occasionally trying to put my left foot on something that doesn't exist.  Sometimes, because I have exceptionally wide feet, I wind up with both feet on the brake causing somewhat violent stops.  But at least I still have a car with a working CD player, something that's almost as hard to find as a stick shift these days.

A few days ago, I grabbed something off the shelf for my morning commute that I hadn't played in quite awhile.  If I were to place a label on it, I suppose I would call it techno.  Not necessarily something I dislike, but not exactly my go-to musical preference either.  I remember when the album came out.  I was quite taken with the obvious blues and gospel influences, backed up by this heavy club beat.  As I was driving, I realized that even though I was driving an automatic, the music was actually quite perfect for the drive.  Not only that, but I'm going to go out on a very narrow limb and say that this particular album may actually sound better in an automatic.  If I ever again get access to a stick, I may have to test that theory.  In the meantime, this week, get in your car and please enjoy Moby with his 1999 album Play.

Just to reset my brain, I'll be taking next two weeks off from writing these.  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 Film of the Week!

"The life of everyone on board depends upon just one thing:  finding someone back there who can not only fly this plane, but who didn't have fish for dinner."

--Leslie Nielson as Dr. Rumack

I recently read a book that was such a delight that it prompted a re-watch of not one but two of the funniest films I've ever seen.  I bought the book in April.  I was actually trying to save it for a bit.  But I saw above the barcode a label that said, "Best If Read By:  March 2035."  It's the first book I've ever seen with a freshness/sell by/expiration date.  Even though I had roughly a decade, I figured comedy is better when it's fresher.

The book is titled Surely You Can't Be Serious:  The True Story of Airplane! (available at Barnes & Noble and other fine bookstores).  In it, David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Jerry Zucker--collectively known as ZAZ--recount what went into one of the most beloved and quoted comedies ever made.  And I have to be honest, the stories about making it are almost as funny as the film itself.

The three of them had worked together at the University of Wisconsin at Madison in the early 1970s forming a theatre troupe known as the Kentucky Fried Theater.  It was successful enough that they decided to try their luck in Los Angeles.

KFT's stage show could best be described as "sketch comedy."  For inspiration, they would set up an early model VCR and let it record whatever was on television overnight.  The results were a lot of parodies of ads and movie trailers.

One night, they inadvertently recorded a B-movie from 1957 called Zero Hour! starring Dana Andrews, Linda Darnell, the great Sterling Hayden, and former NFL star Elroy "Crazylegs" Hirsch.  In spite of the fact that the film was a drama, ZAZ found it to be unintentionally funny--even more so than the commercials on which they usually tended to focus.

The three started writing their own parody script for an airline disaster movie.  They actually found Zero Hour! to be so funny, there were instances where they essentially quoted it verbatim.  (To avoid royalty issues, not to mention charges of plagiarism, they even bought the rights to the original film, which had been co-written by Arthur Hailey.)

Having never made a movie before, ZAZ wrote another film of seemingly unrelated sketches, more akin to their stage show.  The Kentucky Fried Movie debuted in 1977 and jumpstarted not just their careers, but also that of director John Landis.  (For more, feel free to check out my "Film of the Week" sermon posted on 7 September, 2024.)  While the film was both a commercial and critical success, they really wanted to direct their own movie.

They realized early on that the key to the humour was for the actors to play it as seriously as possible.  As such, they cast actors who were mostly known for dramatic work--actors like Lloyd Bridges, Robert Stack, Peter Graves, and Leslie Nielsen.  It seems hard to believe in hindsight, but none of these actors had ever really done comedy at that point and it wound up opening new doors for all of them.  In one more nod to Zero Hour!, which cast "Crazylegs" Hirsch as an airline pilot, ZAZ cast NBA legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar as the co-pilot, Roger Murdock... who, of course, was actually Kareem in disguise.

The basic plot of the film involves former fighter pilot Ted Striker (played by Robert Hays) who boards a flight from Los Angeles to Chicago in an effort to win back the heart of his ex, Elaine Dickinson (Julie Hagerty) who happens to be a flight attendant on the plane.

Things take a turn for the worse when acute food poisoning runs rampant among the crew and the passengers.  Oh, and it's very important that a little girl (Jill Whelan) gets to Chicago because she's in need of a heart transplant and a donor has been found.

The film--the first to feature three credited directors--made back its production budget in two days and changed the face of film comedy.  It was the first film that taught me to actually pay attention to the credits as there could be the occasional joke(s) thrown in for good measure.  There might even be a little bit after the credits finish rolling.

(To this day, I've never seen the movie Gladiator.  In fact, I'm not even really a fan of that genre of film.  I often say it's because I'm afraid I'll get molested by Peter Graves.)

Featuring supporting performances and cameos from Lorna Patterson, Barbara Billingsley, Rossie Harris, Norman Alexander Gibbs, Al White, James Hong, David Leisure, Jonathan Banks, Gregory Itzin, Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker, Charlotte Zucker, Ethel Merman, Maureen McGovern, Stephen Stucker, and, of course, Otto (who actually does have his own IMDb page) from 1980, please enjoy the classic Airplane!

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.  (So there.)

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

There's a new album that was released in the last couple of months.  It's called Where The Willow And The Dogwood Grow.  It's a compilation of songs written by Tom Waits and/or Kathleen Brennan (his wife and musical partner) performed by other artists.  The recordings themselves had all been previously released by said artists between 1984 and 2020.  And even though I already had about a quarter of the performances on the album, being the Tom Waits fan that I am, I felt compelled to buy a copy.  I've listened to it a number of times now and I seem to be finding something new and different each time I do.

The fascinating thing to me is that it's also made me want to go back and listen to the albums that featured some of those songs.  I don't have enough memory on my phone to include my entire music library.  In fact, with the exception of Bruce Springsteen's rendition of "Jersey Girl," I didn't have any of those Waits covers that I already owned on my phone.  Because of that, I haven't actually listened to a lot of those albums in quite some time, and it's been a joy to revisit them.

This week's album in particular stood out to me because I remember how taken I was with it when it was released more than 20 years ago--long before I had any non-landline phone, let alone an iPhone.  As I write this, I'm listening to it again for the first time in many years and remembering why I was taken with it in the first place.  Full disclosure--I did have a bit of a celebrity crush on the artist.  I suppose if I'm honest, I still kind of do.

After a decade of mining classic pop standards from the "Great American Songbook," Diana Krall decided to branch out a bit for her new album.  While half of the songs on the album are covers, this time, they were more in a folk and blues vein including songs written by Mose Allison ("Stop This World"), Joni Mitchell ("Black Crow"), the aforementioned Mr. Waits ("Temptation"), and even Elvis Costello ("Almost Blue"), whom she married the year before.

However, the one thing that excited me was that she and Costello co-wrote the other half of the album's songs.  As a fan of her interpretations of standards, I was curious to hear what she was capable of writing--although, to be fair, I was already a fan of Mr. Costello's so I had a sneaking suspicion it would be at least pretty good.  Needless to say, I was not disappointed.  To this day, it's still one of my favourite albums of hers just because it does feel distinctly hers.  This week, please enjoy the one and only Diana Krall with her 2004 album, The Girl In The Other Room.  I keep hoping the two of them will do something like this again.

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

I stumbled upon this in my Facebook Memories.  I wrote it and posted it there on 3 August, 2024--shortly before I started posting these here every week.  Honestly, I had forgotten about it.  But when I re-read what I wrote, I have to say, I'm kind of proud of it.  Hope you like it.  (One or two sentences were edited out because they didn't fit in this context.)

 

 

I don't know why I'm fascinated by identity politics, but I am. More specifically, I find it disturbing that identity is political these days. I'll be honest with you, I don't give one good goddamn rat's ass about what pronouns you use, or your sexual orientation, or your gender identity, or the colour of your skin, your religion, your party affiliation, etc., etc., etc. That being said, I will address you by whatever names and/or pronouns you ask me to use out of respect for you as a human being. Also, don't think that I don't have the utmost respect for whatever national, religious, and/or cultural background(s) you claim. In fact, not only do I respect it, I'm probably fascinated by it. But--and I realize that this is easy to say given my background--I don't necessarily believe it sums up you as a person. I don't care WHAT you are--I prefer to know WHO you are. I long for a day when we judge each other not by things like race or sexual orientation, but by things that are truly important... like music tastes.

 

I have my own descriptive labels as well--I'm a white, cisgender (which is a word I actually hate), heterosexual male who uses he/him pronouns. I'll even throw in other terms like "redhead," "eccentric," and "Chicago Cubs fan." But here's the catch--I don't define myself in those terms (well... maybe "eccentric"). They don't sum up who I am as a person. It's not my identity. I suppose if I identify as anything it's as a writer. It's something I've always liked doing. I'll even go as far as to say I'm passionate about it. I don't know if I'm particularly good--aside from a "Six-Word Memoir" I once submitted to Smith Magazine, I've never had anything published. But it is what I find myself doing probably more than anything else. I'm always stringing words together in my head, even if I'm not jotting them down on paper or sitting behind my computer. I'm a writer who, yes, happens to be straight, white, and male, but I am a writer first and foremost. That's who I am. The straight, white, male stuff is just incidental fluff. Hey, that rhymes. Wow--not only am I a writer, apparently, I'm also a poet.

 

I usually feel like I have something to say. Whether what I write resonates with anyone is debatable--I have a sneaking suspicion that most people seeing this post on Facebook stopped reading at least a paragraph ago. (Yes, Heidi, I'm lookin' at you, cous!) And I get it. This particular forum isn't exactly designed to increase our attention spans. But it doesn't appear to have stopped me so far.

 

Just because I feel like I have something to say doesn't mean the words are always forthcoming. I could have a Shakespearean vocabulary and still not be able to figure out the proper word combinations to express whatever I'm feeling at that moment. I also often find myself using the same words and phrases over and over again which sometimes makes me feel like my vocabulary is somewhat limited. But I usually catch it when I'm proofreading and, for the most part, I'm pretty successful at finding a different word or phrase that means the same thing. For all its faults--like the fact that "tough," "cough," "plough," "dough," and "through" all have different pronunciations--I do so love the English language. But sometimes... sometimes I just don't know what to say even though I feel like I have to verbally express myself soon or I'll develop an ulcer.

 

I think that every writer has their own method of writing, even when the words won't come. In 1993, Billy Joel spoke to students at the Berklee School of Music and talked about not being able to write. "I got stuck once and I couldn't write--like, I didn't feel like a writer anymore. You feel terrible. It's like a ball player who's in a slump. You can't hit, no matter what you do, you can't call on your old skills, it's just not working, you can't put it all together. So what I do is... I go to Little Italy in Manhattan. And I get a nice outfit on--like a writer's outfit. Like a songwriter, like a sort of modern-day Chopin. So I'm lookin' baaaad, you see? And I sit at a table and I get a glass of wine. And I sit there, I have my notebook and my pen, and I delude myself into feeling like writing. I mean, that's just my little jump-start trick that I do sometimes... and all these people are staring at you, so you've got to do something!"

 

Even though I've never, to the best of my recollection, experienced what I would call "writer's block," I took that anecdote to heart. I developed a writer's ritual of my own that I like to employ from time to time--sometimes just for the hell of it (like I am right now). I find this activity is best done at night. I like to sit in a room, either with a paper and pen or behind a word processor of some kind, preferably with not too bright ambient light from a single table lamp or even a floor lamp. I put on a pair of shades--I find something bluesy and poetic about wearing sunglasses at night in a dimly lit room--and try to convince myself I'm a writer of great... songs, poems, essays, novels, short stories, introductions for roller derby skaters--whatever needs to be written in the moment.

 

I've found that the real key to the whole thing is background music--unless I'm trying to write music of my own, then it's just distracting. But, by and large, I'm trying to express myself verbally and I find that music helps. Depending on my mood, I might put on jazz music. Classic Miles Davis recordings are good for this, maybe some John Coltrane or Lee Morgan--really anything recorded for the Blue Note label in the 1950s and 1960s. Other good choices include early Peter, Paul & Mary and Bruce Springsteen's first two albums.

 

I put this week's album on late one night many years ago while trying to write something. I don't know why it stuck with me as a writing aide. It could be the poetic nature of the songs themselves--it could be the cover art which looks like it has its own story to tell (which I'm sure has been told a few times over the last 60 years, even if it's just among musicologists). Whatever it is, whenever I find myself in the mood to write but don't know what to say, this week's album often yields a good start. From 1963, please enjoy The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan.

 

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 recently saw Steven Spielberg's latest film, Disclosure Day.  I've heard it described as the third film in a trilogy that began in 1977 with Close Encounters of the Third Kind and continued in 1982 with E.T. the Extraterrestrial.  Spielberg clearly has a fascination with what may exist beyond our planet, given that he's made so many movies about it over the last half century.

Personally, I was moved by the film--not to tears like I am when I watch E.T., but moved, nonetheless.  It's one of the best films I've seen this year--possibly even the best--so far.  And it got me thinking about the portrayal of aliens in our popular culture.

We frequently depict aliens as invaders, intent on taking over our planet and wiping us out.  From The War of the Worlds (even the original 1898 novel) to Independence Day, we seem to have this notion that any species not of this planet would want nothing more than to take over and colonize this measly little blue dot.

Honestly, I feel this says a lot about us as humans.  Are we really that terrified of "the other"?  Of course, I ask the question and then I look around and I see how we treat other humans because they don't have the same language, nationality, skin colour, sexual orientation, religion, etc.  If "they" are different from "us," we panic and claim they're invading us, stealing our jobs, and eating our pets.  (Okay, admittedly ALF liked cats, but still...)  And this is how we act toward other humans, so... yeah, I can only imagine how we'd act toward an extraterrestrial species.

And--let's be honest here--we're concerned about the invasion, colonization, and potential testing and anal probing because that's what we would do if we landed on their planet.  Of course, we would be doing it in the name of science, so that makes it alright.

(Wow!  I knew I could be cynical, but... damn!)

I've always been fond of the science fiction in which aliens are portrayed differently.  Perhaps the best example of this is the classic 1951 film The Day the Earth Stood Still in which an alien species comes to Earth and, recognizing our warlike nature, declares that if we don't start getting along with each other, they will essentially view us as a threat to other planets and destroy us.

Personally, I've always liked the "backstory" described in 1997's Men in Black--that a bunch of aliens "wanted to use Earth as an apolitical zone for creatures without a planet.  Did you ever see the movie Casablanca?  Same thing, except no Nazis."  And to this day, aliens of different species from all over the universe live among us, just trying to make a living.

The aliens in Spielberg's films never tried to take over.  Hell, E.T. was just a botanist who was accidentally left behind.  I don't really see that as much of a threat.  If anything, those films show how cruel we as humans can be.  I would even argue Disclosure Day is no different.

Perhaps my favourite film alien is the subject of this week's film.  Like E.T., he was kind of accidentally stuck on our planet and just wanted to go home.  He even had a pretty wicked sense of humour and enjoyed a good time as much as any human I've ever met.

In the film, Graeme Willy and Clive Gollings (Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, who also wrote the film) are two English comic book artists who come to America to attend Comic Con and take a road trip through all of the alien hot spots in the desert southwest.  Along the way, they wind up picking up an alien who goes by the name Paul (voiced by Seth Rogen).  Paul has just escaped from a government facility that has been holding him for many decades.  He's managed to make contact with his "people" (for lack of a better word) who are going to come pick him up.

Graeme and Clive agree to help Paul return home, despite the fact that he is being pursued relentlessly by Agent Zoil (Jason Bateman) who enlists the help of Haggard and O'Reilly (Bill Hader and Joe Lo Truglio), two rather immature agents who are intentionally left somewhat out of the loop.  Along the way, Graeme, Clive, and Paul get some more help from Ruth (Kristen Wiig), whose ultra-religious father owns the RV park where they've decided to temporarily hide out.

Directed by Greg Mottola and featuring appearances by Jeffrey Tambor, Jane Lynch, David Koechner, Jesse Plemons, John Carroll Lynch, Blythe Danner, and even a voice cameo from Steven Spielberg himself, from 2011, please enjoy Paul.

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

I've never really made much of a secret of the fact that, traditionally, I tend to root for older people--especially in entertainment and sports.  This has been true ever since I was little.  So many people my age would complain about the stories their grandparents would tell, but I was always fascinated by them.  I never found them boring and loved hearing about how things were 50 years before I was even born.

I remember when I was in college and seeing news reports of Nolan Ryan pitching no-hitters and George Foreman winning heavyweight boxing championships--at the time, both were in their mid-40s--and thinking that was pretty awesome, especially for an athlete.  Today, it's commonplace for star athletes to play as long as they possibly can.  Just look at LeBron James.  He's 41, which I still think of as old for someone in his profession.  But in spite of that, he's still one of the best players of the game... and I don't even particularly like basketball!

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, artists like Paul McCartney and The Rolling Stones were often looked at by the press as being a bit "old," but when I look at concert footage from that time, all I can think is how young they looked.

It seems hard to believe now, but around that same time, the legendary Johnny Cash had been kind of forgotten about by the music establishment.  Sales of his albums had dropped off considerably starting in the 1970s.

After seeing him perform at Bob Dylan's 30th anniversary concert in 1992, the equally legendary producer Rick Rubin--founder of Def Jam Records and a man known for producing primarily rap and heavy metal music--felt that Cash, then in his early 60s, was still relevant.  Rubin offered Cash a contract with his label, promising a lot of creative control.  So began both a professional and personal partnership that lasted the rest of Johnny Cash's life.

And while only they knew what that relationship entailed, we all can still revel in what came out of it.  Over the next decade, the two gave us one of the most celebrated series of albums ever produced, American Recordings.

For the first volume, released in 1994, Cash recorded for the first time with only his own guitar accompaniment.  As he did on the rest of the series, he chose not only his own songs, but songs that he admired by other songwriters including Kris Kristofferson, Loudon Wainwright III, Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, and former stepson-in-law Nick Lowe.

Throughout the series, Cash took songs, many of which were written by hard rock artists, and made them distinctly his own--sometimes becoming more popular than the original versions.

This week, I wanted to highlight one of those albums which, for some reason, I find myself repeatedly playing.  Released in 1996, this was the second of Johnny Cash's American series.  While his first album featured only Cash's own guitar accompaniment, here he was backed by an actual band, specifically Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

The album won the Grammy Award for Best Country Album and Cash received a nomination for Best Male Country Vocal Performance for his cover of Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage."  (Personally, I like it because he does a great cover of one of my favourite country songs, "Sea of Heartbreak.")  Featuring appearances by Marty Stuart, Lindsey Buckingham, Mick Fleetwood, and Flea, please enjoy the one and only Johnny Cash with American II: Unchained.

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

As someone who's not very religious--at least not in the "orthodox" sense of the word--I've always been fascinated by religion.  I've studied a few over the years and realized that the bulk of them are founded on good ideas.  I don't have a problem with religion per se.  I don't have a problem if you find something in it that works for your life and as long as it brings you comfort and inner peace and you're not harming anyone else, I don't have any issue with your chosen spiritual practice.

I do, however, have issues with proselytization--the idea that if something works for you it must work for everyone else and therefore you have to "convert" everyone to your way of thinking.  I don't know if this is supposed to validate your own experience or what, but I think it closes peoples' minds to many experiences and possibilities.

I've frequently said that movies and music are the closest things I get to religion.  I've described going to movie theaters and record stores as going to church.  I get something out of it that so many other people don't.  And I don't want to proselytize, but there is one point--possibly a "tenet" of my "faith"--that has become something of a cause célèbre, particularly among major film directors.  That belief--one that I share--is the idea that movies are best appreciated in a theater.

And don't get me wrong--I enjoy watching movies at home.  I'm watching one as I write this.  But even with a 50-inch television that's bigger than anything we ever had when I was a kid and a killer sound system, it's still not as impressive as watching it in a darkened room on a screen at least two stories tall.  It does require leaving the house, it frequently involves sharing the experience with a group of strangers, but I've often felt that the experience is still better.

The pandemic hit the film industry hard.  As an avid moviegoer, I was particularly disappointed--there were three movies coming out in 2020 that I had to wait an extra year and a half to see, one of which never wound up playing at a theater near me (more than half a decade later and I'm still pissed about that!).  Filmmakers--especially the well-known, well-respected ones--have been making a point the last few years to make their movies events that make it worth leaving the house for.

Last weekend, Christopher Nolan's adaptation of The Odyssey raked in over $260 million globally in its opening weekend.  Not only are people saying that you need to see this in theaters, but because it's the first feature to be shot entirely in the IMAX format, you need to actually see it that way, which requires not just leaving your house, but seeking out a theater that is specially equipped to show such a film.  And that judgement seems to be paying off.  (Sadly, the closest IMAX theater to me is over an hour away--don't know if I'll see it that way or not--although I might opt for the new SCREENX option.)

But even without the whole IMAX thing, the bottom line based on my own experience is this:  movies are typically better in a theater.  I find this is especially true of movies that I've watched hundreds of times at home, particularly if I'm seeing them in a theater for the first time.  I often see little details that I never saw before because it's harder to see them on your television screen--and damn near impossible on your phone--that make the viewing experience that much more interesting.  Of course, once I see them, I can't unsee them, even when watching at home.  (In It's a Wonderful Life, what IS that skull shaped thing on Mr. Potter's desk?)

In a theater, I've found that comedies are funnier, tragedies are sadder, action films are more intense, and even epics are more epic.  The sheer size and scope of the theater screen makes for a bigger and better overall moviegoing experience.

Strangely enough, I've noticed that once I've seen certain films on the big screen, I'll go back and see them again if given the opportunity.  This is especially true of movies that have meant something to me throughout my life.  I've seen It's a Wonderful Life, Casablanca, Ghostbusters, and The Labyrinth multiple times in theaters--and even though I have them all in my home video collection, if I ever see that they're playing at my local theater, I will go see them again because they're among my favourites.  Since 2009, I've actually seen Ghostbusters more times in a theater than I did when it was originally released in 1984.

When deciding which film to highlight this week, I actually tried to avoid picking this particular one.  Admittedly, it is a little cliché and my friend Tara will think I'm calling her out for never having seen it (okay, maybe I am doing that to some degree--sorry, not sorry).  But the truth is, this is a perfect example of what I--along with Steven Spielberg and Christopher Nolan and even Francis Ford Coppola--have been trying to explain since we've developed the ability to watch movies on our phones.

The first time I saw this film actually was in a theater in 1997.  At the time, the movie was celebrating its 25th anniversary, so it was re-released in theaters.  I had never seen it, even on home video, and always understood it to be something of a cultural phenomenon--even at 23, I also seemed to understand that seeing it at home on a VHS tape could not compare to seeing it in a theater.  Looking back on it now, it's even more special to me because I got to share the experience with my dad--the man I credit for making me fall in love with movies to begin with.  It was actually one of his favourites and I can say without hesitation that today it's one of mine.  In the decade since his death, I've even been able to see it two more times on the big screen.  And if I ever again see that it's playing, I will make a point of going out of my way to see it again (heads up, Tara).

Released in 1972, the film established the careers of Al Pacino, James Caan, Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, and even director Francis Ford Coppola.  Based on one of the most celebrated novels of all time, Coppola also co-wrote the screenplay with the novel's author, Mario Puzo.  It went on to win three Academy Awards including Best Picture, Best Actor (Marlon Brando), and Best Adapted Screenplay.  In 2007, the American Film Institute (AFI) ranked it #2 on their list of the 100 greatest American movies.  Yeah, it's a cliché, but this week, please enjoy The Godfather.

(NOTE:  I would feel remiss if I didn't mention 1974's The Godfather Part II.  It is, in my humble opinion, the greatest sequel--and prequel--ever made.  Honestly, I tend to view both movies as one massive epic.  Like it's predecessor, it's better appreciated in a theater.  It went on to win six Oscars including Best Picture--the only sequel to ever win that award whose predecessor also won it--Best Supporting Actor (Rober De Niro) and Best Adapted Screenplay.  In 2007, the AFI ranked it at #32 on their list of the 100 greatest American films--the only sequel on the list.  I've even had the pleasure of seeing it on the big screen twice in the last ten years.  And while I'll be the first to admit it's not as good, I feel that 1990's The Godfather Part III is often unjustly and unfairly maligned--but that's just me.)

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

 

 

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

"And now for something completely different."

--John Cleese, "Monty Python's Flying Circus"

I'll start off this week with a confession.  A few years back, my sister gave me an audiobook of Christopher Moore's The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror--something she listens to every Christmas.  And as much as I love Christopher Moore's writing, I've only listened to about half of the audiobook.  I keep saying that one year, preferably during the holidays, I'll listen to the whole thing, but I just can't seem to be able to focus on it.  Maybe I should just buy the book and read it.

People frequently ask me if I listen to certain podcasts or audiobooks.  I just can't seem to get into them.  I mean, they sound fascinating--or I'm sure they would if I actually listened.  The problem is that the main reason people like the podcasts and audiobooks is the main reason I can't get into them--one can multitask while listening to them. 

Multitasking has never been something that's ever really been in my wheelhouse.  When I'm doing dishes or yardwork, I can play music.  But it's usually music I'm already familiar with and in some cases know backward and forward.  When I'm listening to a podcast or an audiobook, I'm trying to absorb new information.  That usually requires my full attention.  It requires me to actually put everything on hold and listen.  If I'm trying to do anything else at the same time, I feel like I'm missing something--either a vital piece of trivial information or an overgrown branch on my hedge that won't get trimmed properly and will be even more overgrown the next time I do my yardwork.

When I was younger, I would have had no problem with audiobooks.  I used to just sit and listen to things like old radio broadcasts or standup comedy albums or even music--the reason I can put on such familiar music while I'm doing dishes is because I listened to it and absorbed it as a teenager.

I recently found a cheap four-disc box set of one of my favourite performers.  When I got it home, I realized that I couldn't just put it on and play it--I actually had to listen to it.  It's not like it's a standard album of music.  It took me a couple of months before I was able to find the time to just... listen.  But when I (finally) did, it made me appreciate his artistry even more than I already did.

Having grown up on his movies, I was already a fan of Peter Sellers the actor.  From his performance as the inept Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther movies to his Oscar-nominated turns in Dr. Strangelove and Being There, Sellers was always fun to watch.  What I didn't realize was that between 1958 and 1979 Sellers recorded a few albums of comedic/musical material--he even did one with Sophia Loren after they made a movie together.  I don't know why this surprised me exactly.  I was at least somewhat familiar with "The Goon Show" broadcasts he did for the BBC in the 1950s with Spike Milligan and Harry Secombe.

As a one-time aspiring voice-artist myself, I've always admired those who have a facility with dialects and accents and even language in general.  Listening to those albums, I realized what a genius Sellers was in this area.  I have a feeling that if he were alive today, he would have quite a career for himself in voice work.  And even though this should have been apparent in his movies--in Dr. Strangelove alone, he played three different characters all with a different accent--it becomes even more evident when you sit and listen to his recorded works (even the ones that today would be considered "problematic").

This week, just to shake things up a bit, I thought I'd share his last album, 1979's Sellers Market.  If anyone reading this happens to be fluent in Morse Code, I'd be curious to know how accurate the translation of Cole Porter's "Night and Day" is.  I haven't studied it in roughly 35 years and I'm afraid I've forgotten most of it.

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

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill 

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

Sometimes I think it's important to re-evaluate things in our lives--especially when it comes to things like film and music.  Opinions change with time and age, and we may see something that was not necessarily visible to us before.

In 1998, the American Film Institute (AFI), I believe to coincide with the 100th anniversary of the birth of motion pictures, made a list of what they believed to be the 100 greatest American movies.  They broadcast the list in a big prime time special featuring interviews with actors, writers, directors, and other famous people in the industry.

Being the film nut that I am, I watched the special.  At 24, I was quite proud of myself for having seen a number of the films on the list that pre-dated me.  The whole thing, as fascinating as I found it, was a bit anticlimactic because I knew, even at that age, that #1 and #2 were going to be Citizen Kane (1941) and Casablanca (1942)--I just didn't know which film would be in which position.  Lo and behold, at the end of the broadcast, Casablanca was #2 and Citizen Kane was #1.

(That's not to say that I wasn't pleasantly surprised by other titles and their respective positions, particularly The Godfather (1972), which I had only just seen for the first time the previous year, which came in at #3.)

A couple of years later, I happened to be in a Sam's Club and found a VHS copy of Citizen Kane for all of four bucks.  As much as I had read about it, I had still never seen the movie.  So I bought it in an effort to find out what film scholars had been raving about for nearly 60 years at that point.

My initial thought was that it was a good movie.  I don't think I would have called it the greatest American movie ever made.  I certainly wouldn't have said it was better than Casablanca.  But it was enjoyable enough, even though I think it was rather overrated.

It was about a year after that, that I started upgrading everything to DVD.  For one reason or another, I didn't get around to upgrading that particular film.  I also didn't watch it again, even though I've kept a working VCR the entire time, because I just kept figuring I would be upgrading it in the near future, which never happened.

After making more film lists--including 100 Greatest Love Stories, Heroes and Villains, and Film Quotes--in 2007, the AFI revisited their original list of the 100 Greatest American Movies, this time re-evaluating it.  A lot of movies had come out during that time and opinions changed on others.  (Apparently, no matter how technologically groundbreaking it might have been in 1915, a film that glorifies the Ku Klux Klan is problematic in the 21st century, so Birth of a Nation--which was on the 1998 list--suddenly went bye-bye.  Not to worry, though--Gone With the Wind (1939) still remained in the Top 10.)

What was interesting to me is that many films just changed positions on the list.  Raging Bull (1980) actually jumped up 20 positions in nine years and was suddenly ranked #4 on the list.  In fact, The Godfather and Casablanca just switched positions making them #2 and #3 respectively.  And yet somehow, Citizen Kane still remained at #1.

By this point in my life, I had seen many more movies and had what I like to think are educated opinions of them, including Citizen Kane.  And while I was able to genuinely appreciate the "Saturday Night Live" sequel, Citizen Kane II, I still thought the film was overrated.

This feeling was reinforced a couple of years ago when I read my grandmother's diary.  She wrote in 1942 about seeing the film and not being that impressed with it, which delighted me in a snobbish kind of way.

This year marks the 85th anniversary of this landmark film.  It played at my local theater, so I decided it had been roughly 25 years since I'd seen it--maybe I should watch it again on a big screen (the way films are best appreciated) and maybe I could see what critics and scholars saw that eluded me in the past.

I did come away from it with a deeper appreciation than I did when I first saw it nearly half my life ago.  The basic themes of the film seemed timely in a way they didn't 25 years ago.  Or maybe they always were and I just wasn't aware of it.  I feel like I can find contemporary analogs of most of those characters in our present-day society.

What genuinely impressed me about the film was the "arrogance of youth" that I referred to in this week's album "sermon."  Orson Welles turned 26 around the time the movie premiered.  He co-wrote, directed, and starred in this film alongside actors from his Mercury Theatre, many of whom were making their film debuts.  From a technical and even a technological standpoint, he did some impressive things with camera angles and focus that had not really been done at the time, which does make the movie stand out, especially among other films from that time.  Watching him age over the course of the movie from his mid-20s to his late-70s required some impressive makeup.  I wonder if Welles would have--or could have--attempted to make a movie like this later in his life. 

Don't get me wrong--I still think Casablanca, The Godfather, and even Raging Bull are all better movies--or, at the very least, I enjoyed them more.  And I still think, to a degree, Citizen Kane is overrated.  But I don't think it's as overrated as I once did.

Co-starring Joseph Cotten, Dorothy Comingore, Ruth Warrick, Ray Collins, and Agnes Moorehead, please enjoy what the American Film Institute deems the greatest American movie ever made, 1941's Citizen Kane.

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