The Reverend Will the Presents the Film of the Week!

While I was away from writing these, one of my favourite multi-hyphenates celebrated a milestone birthday.  Brace yourself--even I can't believe it--Steve Martin turned 80 last month.  I noticed very little fanfare around this, although I'm sure there was some.  While regarded as one of the great comedic-actors of the last 50 years, Martin is so much more.  He's an amazing writer--in addition to his writing for film and television (winning an Emmy in 1969 for his work on "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour"), he's also written novels, plays, articles for The New Yorker, music, Broadway shows, and one of the best memoirs I've ever read, Born Standing Up.  He's an art collector, a magician, and a damn fine banjo player.  He's a true renaissance man.  He's the kind of person that I would love to just sit and have dinner with.  

But as someone who fancies himself a writer, I have to admit, that's what I've always admired about him the most--as Martin describes it in this week's film, the interesting word usements he structures.  He has a way of crafting a story, a sentence, even just a visual gag, that just makes me admire the way his mind works.

I've always said there are three types of writing.  First and foremost, you have the formulaic and predictable (a lot of network television--as much as I enjoy "NCIS," the show definitely falls into this category).  Secondly, you have the story that goes along just fine, predictably or not, and then the writer springs a big surprise twist at the end (for more on this, see the films of M. Night Shyamalan).  But the rarest kind of writing was demonstrated on Martin's 1978 album, A Wild and Crazy Guy.  He told what I thought was the best written and, at the same time, filthiest joke I'd ever heard.  I won't repeat it here, you can look it up.  He talks about a date he had with a woman.  When I first heard it, I got a sense of where the joke was going.  And then he went there, just like I predicted he would.  I was actually kind of disappointed because, as much as I admire his writing, frankly I expected better of him.  THEN he sprung the twist ending, which I never would have predicted.  I laughed so hard, I nearly fell out of my chair.  The only other time I've seen that done was the short-lived drama series "Political Animals," which ended in a cliffhanger that was never resolved.

My favourite films of Martin's are the ones he has also written or co-written.  He's crafted his own stories in such comedy classics as The Jerk (1979), The Man With Two Brains (1983), Three Amigos! (1986) and Bowfinger (1999).  He's also adapted classic works such as Edmond Rostand's play Cyrano de Bergerac and George Eliot's novel Silas Marner (1988's Roxanne and 1994's more dramatic A Simple Twist of Fate respectively).  This week's film is my favourite--both for his acting and his writing--and I think it may be his best work.

In it, Martin plays Harris K. Telemacher, a local L.A. TV weatherman--I'm sorry... meteorologist.  During a luncheon with his girlfriend Trudi (Marilu Henner), he meets Sara McDowell (played by Martin's then wife, Victoria Tennant), a  London-based journalist who is writing an article about Los Angeles.  She contacts Harris to set up an interview with him.  He takes her on a "cultural" tour of the city and subsequently falls in love with her.

Romantic comedy entanglements aside, the film is really a love letter to the city of Los Angeles (with more than a few Shakespearean overtones).  It plays up all the stereotypes that non-Los Angelenos seem to have about the city and its denizens while at the same time embracing them.  With every viewing, I seem to find something different that makes me smile.  Directed by Mick Jackson, the film features a supporting cast of Richard E. Grant, Sarah Jessica Parker, Susan Forristal, Kevin Pollack, Sam McMurray, and a signpost that most of us would love to be able to read.  It also features some wonderful cameos (credited and uncredited) from the likes of Patrick Stewart, Woody Harrelson, Iman, Larry Miller, Frances Fisher, George Plimpton, Chevy Chase, Terry Jones, and Rick Moranis.  From 1991, please enjoy, with a twist of lemon, L.A. Story.

A note about the enclosed trailer--like a lot of trailers, this one does feature some alternate and/or deleted scenes that were ultimately left out of the movie.  This one, however features quite a few of them.  If you've never seen the movie and choose to do so based on what you see in the trailer, just know that John Lithgow's role as talent agent Harry Zell was cut entirely from the final film.  However you can still see him in the trailer as well as deleted scenes featured on the DVD.

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 don't usually do this.  In fact in the nearly six years since I started doing these musical "sermons" on Facebook, there has only been one other time when I revisited an album I had written about in the past.  But I somehow feel this particular one is worth re-examining as well.  Weirdly enough, my initial submission of this album was also technically a re-examination, which is kind of a long story, but if you're so inclined, here's what I wrote on 6 April of last year.

My Aunt Gayle recently gave me a book she'd heard about, presumably on NPR (one of the joys of public broadcasting).  Tonight in Jungleland: The Making of Born To Run by Peter Ames Carlin is... well... about the making of what is arguably Bruce Springsteen's masterpiece album, clearly.  The book was published to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the release of the album.  Knowing I'm a fan of "The Boss," and (I presume) knowing that that album specifically is one of my Top 5 "Desert Island" albums, she thought I would appreciate it.  She was not wrong.

Being a Springsteen fan, who not only avidly listens to his music, but has also read quite a bit about it, I was already familiar with some of what went into this album as well as what was on the line for Bruce professionally.  His first two albums didn't sell well and he was on the verge of being dropped by his label, Columbia Records. (SPOILER ALERT:  They're still together today.)  And I was aware of how much work he put into it, particularly the Phil-Spector-Wall-of-Sound feel on the title track, which features more guitar tracks than band members and even a glockenspiel--because, let's be honest, the glockenspiel is an incredibly underutilized instrument in rock music.

Somehow, I was not aware of Bruce's perfectionism.  I mean, I knew about it, but I didn't know about what most of us would consider to be extreme lengths to achieve that perfection--Carlin talks about Bruce having Clarence Clemons record the sax solo on "Jungleland" many, many times over the course of many, many hours in an effort to have the music convey what he heard and envisioned in his head.  He would sit for hours staring at the wall and writing in his notebook, getting the lyrics just right (something I actually understand myself, although I don't have a group of musicians and studio engineers waiting on me to do it).

I was also not aware of what I think are extreme lengths that Columbia went to in order to NOT promote him while he was trying to make his new album.  Apparently, label representatives would pull copies of his previous album--1973's The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle--from record stores in an effort to promote another up and coming artist on the label, Billy Joel, who's second album, Piano Man, had recently been released.  In the meantime, Bruce's manager, Mike Appel, was also going to extreme lengths in the other direction to get his only client's music heard and to get people to go to his live shows.  One of Appel's stunts involved sending cassettes of the title track to radio stations in major markets much to the surprise and dismay of Columbia execs, who had not yet released the single.

After reading the book, I listened to the album again--a couple of times.  Virtually every day for almost a week, I've awakened with some song from it rattling around my cranium.  I listened to it in my car the other day (the best place to listen to it--especially if your car has a stick shift).  Whenever I listen to it, I tend to really get into the music.  This time, I even managed to hurt my wrist while pounding out the Bo Diddley style drum beat on my steering wheel (and I do mean that I pounded that sucker) during "She's the One."  I now had an even better understanding of what went into the making of the album--the heart, the soul, the emotion, the desperation, the hunger--and it made me appreciate it even more.

So in honour of the album's 50th anniversary, I (re)submit what I think is one of--maybe even the--best rock album of the 1970s, and certainly one of the best of all time.  Please enjoy Bruce Springsteen with the epic Born To Run.

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!)

Since I'm taking a couple weeks away from writing these, I thought I'd reach into the past and post one of these from before I put them all on this blog.  I originally wrote and posted what follows on Facebook on 4 February, 2023.  I felt compelled to revisit it after a text conversation with my best friend last evening.  I actually thought it was pretty good (if I do say so myself), so I thought I'd post it here.  If nothing else, I've also been looking to commemorate the 85th anniversary of Bugs Bunny's screen debut in the cartoon short "A Wild Hare."  

As a child, I used to get up every Saturday morning with my dad and watch Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons.  For those of you too young to remember, back in the old days, there were only three networks and on Saturday mornings they would air cartoons for kids who didn't have to be in school.  As odd as it seems, this had a profound effect on my life.  On the one hand, I can look back on it as a simple way to bond with Dad (he was a big Road Runner fan).  On the other, it also started a fascination with animation which exists to this day.  As an adult, I still enjoy animated movies and television programs, mostly to see if I can recognize the voice actors (was I the only person who geeked out over the fact that legendary character actor James Hong provided the voice of Mr. Gao in last year's Turning Red?).

I've frequently described myself as an amateur animation historian and will devour any kind of information I can get, particularly about animation that was done before I was born.  Over the years, I've found myself studying the works of people like Ub Iwerks, Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising, Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston (as well as the rest of the "Nine Old Men"), Tex Avery, the Bobs (McKimson and Clampett), Friz Freleng, Chuck Jones, and of course, the one and only Walter Elias Disney.  But the Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies that were produced by Warner Brothers' legendary Termite Terrace during animation's golden age from the 1930s through the 1960s will always be my favourites.

I've always cited Bugs Bunny as a personal hero.  And while people look at me strangely when I say this, it's true.  As the great animator/director Chuck Jones described it, Bugs Bunny is the comic hero while Daffy Duck is the comic loser.  In the preface to the 1990 book Bugs Bunny: Fifty Years and Only One Grey Hare, Jones wrote, "My admiration for Bugs is immeasurable.  When I look in the mirror, I see Daffy Duck, but when I look into my heart I see Bugs Bunny.  Who in his right mind would not like to find himself a combination of Henry Higgins as played by Rex Harrison, Robin Hood as played by Douglas Fairbanks, and Dorothy Parker as played by Dorothy Parker?  Fit them deftly into a sleek and stylish rabbit skin and you have Bugs Bunny.  Yes!  Daffy Duck is a rueful recognition of my own (and your own) ineptitudes, Bugs Bunny is a glorious personification of our most dapper dreams.  We love Daffy because he is us, we love Bugs because he is as wonderful as we would like to be."

One longtime Warner Brothers animator (I think it was Bob Clampett, but don't quote me on that), once said something that totally surprised me.  He said that the cartoons they made were never intended for children.  They made them to amuse themselves.  I've frequently said that most, if not all, creative endeavours are acts of self-indulgence, and I don't mean that as a bad thing.  We need ways of expressing ourselves even if it's just for our own self-improvement and/or amusement (I think these weekly sermons should be proof enough of that).  Whether or not what we create finds--and resonates with--an audience is something that only history will determine.

It's been more than 90 years since Warner Brothers released their first animated shorts and we still talk about them today (okay, maybe not those first ones--I can only think of two people who might read this entire missive that would know anything about "Bosko the Talk-Ink Kid").  And even though they're not the most politically correct/woke things out there--Daffy, Sylvester, and Elmer Fudd all seem to make fun of people with speech impediments *; there are, sadly, a lot of cringe-worthy racial stereotypes (e.g. Speedy Gonzales); explosives are way too easily accessible; alum was never used with anything but malicious intent; and, let's be frank about this, Pepé Le Pew is a sexual predator--many of these cartoons are considered classics today.  Bugs is one of only a handful of animated characters who has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and in 2004, Comedy Central listed the 51 greatest smart-asses of all time, placing Bugs in the top three alongside Bill Murray and Groucho Marx (two other pop culture idols of mine).  Overall, I'd say history has been kind.

(And since I love throwing out bits of trivial information that only geeks know, I feel compelled to talk briefly about a common misconception about voice artist Mel Blanc.  He actually did not perform all of those voices--he was just the only one who was credited.  In his defense, he did do probably more than his fair share--Bugs, Daffy, Tweety, Sylvester, Porky Pig, Yosemite Sam, and Foghorn Leghorn, first and foremost.  But June Foray did quite a lot of supporting characters, most notably Granny and Witch Hazel (in fact, Chuck Jones once said that she was not the female Mel Blanc--Blanc was the male June Foray).  Stan Freberg performed the voice of Pete Puma among other characters.  But the big surprise to me was that Blanc did not provide the voice of Elmer Fudd in all those classic shorts.  Radio personality Arthur Q. Bryan began voicing Fudd in 1940 and did so up until his death in 1959.  Blanc did provide Elmer's voice when it was called for after Bryan passed away, but, as I understand it, he always felt it was Bryan's character.)

Some years back, I was watching "Jeopardy!" with my mother.  While I didn't run the opera category, I did get more than half the clues correct.  Mom looked at me and asked, "How do you know so much about opera?"  I just looked at her and said, "Looney Tunes" (although to be fair, I did spend a decade managing the music department at Barnes & Noble in Bloomington, so I'm sure I picked up a few things in my then-day-job).  One of the lasting impressions that Looney Tunes left on me--and I think it left this impression on a lot of people (especially children), whether they realized it or not--was an appreciation and a love for classical music and opera.  While Carl Stalling's score for those cartoons was beautiful, even an essential part of the gags, a lot of classical and opera music was utilized, both to accentuate the animation as well as to help emphasize the jokes.  And if you grew up watching those cartoons, it's hard to hear Gioachino Rossini's The Barber of Seville without picturing Bugs massaging Elmer Fudd's scalp.  I think it's also safe to say that when we hear Richard Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" from Die Walküre, the majority of us are singing, "Kill the wabbit, Kill the wabbit..."

In 1990, presumably to coincide with Bugs Bunny's 50th anniversary, conductor George Daugherty got the idea of presenting some of these classic cartoons on a large screen in front of an audience with a live orchestra playing the score, much of it composed by Carl Stalling and Milt Franklyn.  After premiering at the San Diego Civic Theatre in 1990, the show moved to the Gershwin Theatre on Broadway for a limited (and sold out) run.  Over the next twenty years, the show was performed around the world with various international orchestras.  So this week, as a little something different, from 1991, please enjoy the original Broadway recording of that show, Bugs Bunny on Broadway, performed by the Warner Brothers Symphony Orchestra, conducted by George Daugherty.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and what did you expect in an opera... a happy ending?

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

* Contrary to popular belief, Porky Pig didn't really stutter.  When Mel Blanc was trying to develop Porky's voice, he went to a farm and studied real pigs.  What comes across as stuttering to us (especially when done by the voice actors who came after Blanc), is actually the grunting noise that pigs tend to make.

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

Four years (and one week) ago today, I posted on Facebook the following statement regarding this week's film:  "If you've never seen it, do yourself a favour, drop whatever it is you're doing in the moment, and watch this film.  It is a moral imperative!"

I'm going to state an unpopular opinion.  Don't worry--I have my reasons.  I've always felt that Anthony Hopkins should not have won the Oscar for playing Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs.  Yeah, I said it.  Don't get me wrong--he did a fantastic job in the role.  I just felt that he should have not won in the Best Leading Actor category.  I thought that, given his amount of screen time, it would have been better had he been nominated for Best Supporting Actor.  (If you're an Oscar junkie like I am, you know that that would have put him in contention with Jack Palance who won the category that year for City Slickers.  Tough call on that one.)  More on the Academy Awards in a bit.

The older I get, the more amazed I am that certain works of art--particularly film and music--can move me on a deep, emotional, even spiritual level.  This week's film always does that to me.  Like so many works of art that do move me, I couldn't begin to tell you why or how.  I just know one minute I can be laughing my ass off, the next minute sobbing, and the next minute smiling through the tears because I recognize some intangible truth in my own life that I can't quite put my finger on.

Without giving too much away if you haven't seen it--again, moral imperative--Jack Lucas (played by Jeff Bridges) is a down and out former yuppie morning "shock jock" who finds his life intertwined with Parry (Robin Williams), a homeless man who suffered a terrible tragedy, now believes he's a knight on a quest to find the Holy Grail, and has delusions involving fairies, little people, and the dreaded Red Knight.  Jack feels responsible for helping Parry and enlists his girlfriend Anne (played by Mercedes Ruehl who won the film's only Oscar for Best Supporting Actress) to help Parry win the girl of his dreams (Amanda Plummer).

This is one of those films where every element works in conjunction and in harmony with every other element.  If any little part had been different, whether it be the writer, the director, the production design, or even a non-speaking extra, I'm not sure it would have been as good a movie as it is.  It celebrates the beauty in life, but doesn't shy away from the ugliness.  It's a cinematic masterpiece.  I don't watch it as often as I should--but that's true of other films that move me.

"When I watched the film a couple weeks after Robin [Williams] died, I was full of trepidation, to say the least.  And I came out at the end just grinning like a fool, because Robin's alive.  He will live forever in that character.  That is Robin--all of his madness, all of his sweetness, all of his vulnerability, all of his dangerousness.  It's all in there."

--Director Terry Gilliam on Robin Williams in The Fisher King

Robin Williams received his third Oscar nomination for playing Parry.  I still contend that he should have won.  Yeah, I know--Hannibal Lecter and all that.  But you don't feel for the doctor the way you feel for Parry (or... at least I hope not).  In fact, all the characters are sympathetic and likeable.  You feel for all of them--even Jack who can be a real self-centered asshole.  Especially Jack because he's a real self-centered asshole and you generally get the impression that he doesn't want to be and is just a broken man searching for a quick and easy way to put himself back together.  I think Bridges should have also been nominated along with Plummer and even Michael Jeter.

I can't imagine anyone but an oddball like Terry Gilliam directing this film--granted, I'm biased as both a fan of Gilliam as well as oddballs.  He had a wonderful vision of Richard LaGravenese's script and brought forth magic.  It was a shame he wasn't also nominated for Best Director.  I would have also nominated it for Best Picture.  At the end of the day, it makes you feel better about the world and quite possibly yourself than The Silence of the Lambs ever could--no matter how great that movie is too.  What's really interesting to me is that, in spite of everything I've just written, I still feel as if I've been struck speechless by this beautiful work of art.

Featuring Harry Nilsson's last recording (an adaptation of "How About You?" written by Ralph Freed and Burton Lane, heard over the end credits) as well as appearances by David Hyde Pierce, Kathy Najimy, Harry Shearer, and an uncredited cameo by the great Tom Waits, this week please enjoy The Fisher King.

As I said in my album "sermon," I'll be taking a few weeks away 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!

I've found myself over the years collecting different things, sometimes quite accidentally.  In the last thirty years or so, I've amassed what, for me, I think is a pretty impressive collection of coffee mugs, shot glasses, hats, neckties, and canes--not that I ever intended to collect any of those things--except maybe the hats.  Bear in mind, I'm not complaining about this aspect of my life, nor am I ashamed of it.  If nothing else, the shot glasses, mugs, and other tchotchkes make for nice decorations around my house.  As for the ties... well, if I ever need to dress up for any occasion, I'm certainly prepared.

It's no big secret that I am a (conscious) music collector.  I have a fairly vast library of LPs and CDs.  I have 7-inch, 10-inch, and 12-inch vinyl singles.  I even have a smattering of cassettes and 78 RPM records here and there.  And while I know that there are people out there that are even geekier than I am with bigger and deeper collections, I'm still kind of proud of what I've got.  And one of the odder things I collect is actually a subset of the music library.  I collect music--often full albums, sometimes just songs--performed by actors.

It's not unusual to see a singer start acting at some point in their entertainment careers.  Cher and Frank Sinatra both have won Oscars for their acting work.  And while Lady Gaga has also won for co-writing a song used in a motion picture, she was also nominated for Best Leading Actress for that same film.  But, for some reason, actors who release music are often not taken as seriously.  After having seen the movie Paint Your Wagon, in which Clint Eastwood sings "I Talk to the Trees," maybe I can understand why.  But perhaps that's why I also collect these bits and pieces.  I champion the idea of trying something new or different, especially on a creative level.

(SIDE NOTE:  Although his singing voice leaves a little something to be desired, Eastwood has actually proven himself to be quite the composer.  A self-taught pianist, he's written pieces and composed whole scores for many of his films over the last 40 years.  Since 2008, he's been nominated for four Golden Globe Awards for scores he composed and/or songs he wrote or co-wrote for three different films--one of which he neither starred in nor directed.  In 1999, Warner Brothers even named one of their state-of-the-art recording facilities the Eastwood Scoring Stage.)

Sometimes the results can be quite amazing--for example the song "She's Like the Wind" which Patrick Swayze not only sang but also co-wrote for the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.  Other efforts--even decent ones--have tended to be something of a punchline over the years, such as Bruce Willis's 1987 album The Return of Bruno.  Incidentally, if anyone has a copy of Don Johnson's 1986 album Heartbeat (either in LP or CD) and wants to get rid of it, I'm happy to give it a good home.  I'm pretty sure the second-hand cassette I found some years back was warped and didn't play properly.

In 2011, I noticed a lot of these albums being released around the same time--all of them really good.  Seth MacFarlane, it turns out, is a hell of a crooner--although I was kind of hoping he'd do at least one song as Stewie Griffin.  And while we would occasionally get a sense of Hugh Laurie's abilities as a pianist on his long-running medical drama "House," I certainly wasn't prepared for how much I still enjoy his album Let Them Talk.

But the biggest surprise to me was Jeff Bridges who released an eponymous album featuring his band, The Abiders, that August.  I wasn't surprised by the album, or even how good it was.  I wasn't surprised that it distinguished itself from the others by having a decidedly more country feel to it.  After his Oscar-winning performance as a country singer in the movie Crazy Heart, it seemed like the next logical step.  What surprised me was the overall response to it.  Everybody acted like this was some new thing for him.  It wasn't.  He's been singing and playing for years.

This week's "Film of the Week" selection made me want to revisit this week's album... and provides a nice segue into that.

Jeff Bridges actually recorded his first album in 1999 and released it in January of 2000, penning six of the album's nine songs himself.   His core band consisted of Chris Pelonis on electric guitar and backing vocals, Todd Smith on bass, Brian Zsupnik on drums, Michael McDonald (yes, that Michael McDonald) on keyboards and backing vocals, and The Dude himself on guitar, vocals, and a little bit of keyboard.  I would also be remiss if I didn't mention that David Crosby even sings on a couple of tracks.  This week, please enjoy Be Here Soon.

I'll be taking the next two or three weeks away from writing these, just to recharge my own creative batteries a bit.  Until I return, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

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

The Reverend Will the Thrill

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

"It is part of the price of leadership of this great and free nation to be the target of clever satirists. You have given the gift of laughter to our people. May we never grow so somber or self-important that we fail to appreciate the humor in our lives."

--President Lyndon B. Johnson in a letter to the Smothers Brothers, 9 November, 1968

I'm a big fan of satire.  Its sole purpose is to poke fun at societal institutions and make us laugh at the absurdities of them--especially ones that seem to take themselves too seriously.  Having grown up on "Saturday Night Live" in the 1980s, I became quite fond of "Weekend Update," which put a humourous spin on the news of the day.  As a teenager, I began to realize that, in our society, it's permissible to make fun of our leaders.  As an adult, I've come to the conclusion that this is a necessity for a free society.  I mean, after all, this isn't Russia or Egypt.  These days, it seems like this is the only form of accountability we have left for those in charge--on both sides.

"Weekend Update" begat "The Daily Show," "Real Time with Bill Maher," and "This Week Tonight with John Oliver."  Some satire outlets like The Onion (one of my personal favourites--I've often described it as "Weekend Update" or "The Daily Show" in print form) are not afraid to cross the line into what might be considered poor taste.  I've often gotten the impression that no one who ever worked for The Onion ever asked the question, "Too soon?"

But even The Onion seems tasteful compared to the long-running TV series "South Park."  I've never seen a line of decency (or even indecency) that "South Park" wasn't afraid to cross boldly and unapologetically.  It latches on to every taboo conversational topic we have in our society and gleefully takes the piss (and probably any other bodily fluid it can find) out of it--politics, religion, race, sexuality, political correctness--it seems nothing is off limits.  They cross lines that I admit outright that I'm not brave enough to cross.  They are nothing if not equal opportunity offenders.

A week or so ago, I saw that the show's creators, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, had signed a $1.5 billion dollar deal with the newly merged Paramount/Skydance thing for them to become the exclusive streaming service for "South Park."  Because the show is done crudely, cheaply, and quickly, Parker and Stone quickly released the premier episode of the show's 27th season on Comedy Central.  I heard that a certain world leader was outraged by it.  And I can't imagine that the people at the Paramount/Skydance thing were probably that happy about it either.

I hadn't watched the show on a regular basis in some time, but I've always admired it, so I decided to check it out, particularly when a friend of mine suggested I should.  When I see satire as the news, as opposed to just making fun of it, I get a little concerned.  Words failed me in the moment.  I immediately texted my friend to let him know I'd seen it and was only able to say, "Wow!  Just... wow!"  It was crass.  It was disgusting.  It was completely tasteless.  Frankly, it was like every other episode of "South Park" I had ever seen.  But there was a certain level of audacity, even--dare I say--bravery, that I haven't seen on television in quite some time.  They didn't just bite the hand that fed them, they tore it off and swallowed it whole.  If I could, I would nominate the episode for an Emmy as well as a Peabody Award.  I can't wait to see what they do next.

“Without getting into politics and stuff, we’re all living in a culture, a society where we’re scared to speak and scared if we don’t. That’s what I feel. And we need the Dave Chappelles, we need the Ricky Gervaises, we need the Robin Williamses to make fun.  That’s why they have gargoyles in cathedrals, to remind us, ‘Come on, don’t take yourself too seriously.’”

--Liam Neeson in an interview with The New York Times, 31 July, 2025

Like the satirical works of the late Tom Lehrer, much of the humour and satire of "South Park" doesn't seem to lose its relevance over time.  The popularity of the show in its early days eventually spawned a theatrical feature which was originally released in 1999.  I saw it again last summer in a special "Sing-Along" version (you know--follow the bouncing ball...) to celebrate its 25th anniversary.  Even after a quarter of a century, I was stunned that it didn't feel dated in any way--despite Saddam Hussein's cameo.  (And, since no one pulled the fire alarm, I also got to see Big Gay Al's dance number this time!--Long story.)

In the movie, Stan, Kyle, Eric, and Kenny are excited to see the film debut of their favourite Canadian TV stars--Terrance and Phillip.  The only problem is that the film has an R rating and as school children, they're not allowed to see it.  They sneak in anyway and start repeating all the "dirty" words they hear in the film.  Before too long, their parents are so outraged they nearly start a war with Canada.

(FUN FACT:  Some years back, I found the DVD in the discount bin at Best Buy.  The clerk rang up the item and suddenly excused himself to help another cashier with something--having worked retail, I totally understood.  While he was gone, I looked at the register and discovered that it was prompting him to ask for my ID to make sure I was old enough to purchase it.  Y'know--R rating, dirty words, all that.  I suddenly felt like I had become the plot of the film I was trying to purchase.  Fortunately, I was in my 40s at the time.)

Believe it or not, Trey Parker and composer Marc Shaiman went on to receive an Oscar nomination for the song "Blame Canada."  Robin Williams even performed it at the ceremony--I mean, why not?  It wasn't like it was going to win anyway.  Featuring cameos by George Clooney, Minnie Driver, Eric Idle, Brent Spiner, Dave Foley, Stewart Copeland, and Mike Judge, this week--especially if you ever wondered what exactly Brian Boitano would do if he were here right now--please enjoy the heavily R-rated South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember...

OH MY GOD!  THEY KILLED KENNY!

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 probably should have written this last week, but I had other things on my mind (musically and otherwise).  There were a lot of entertainment deaths in the last couple of weeks.  Malcolm-Jamal Warner was a part of my childhood.  As was Hulk Hogan to a degree, even though I was never particularly a fan of wrestling.  And Ozzy--well, that one's hitting me harder than I would have expected, especially given the fact that I've only been a fan for about fifteen years.

But there was another death that caught my attention.  It made a few headlines, but I feel it was overshadowed by everyone else.  Last week, while watching "The Late Show with Stephen Colbert," I noticed that Louis Cato and the Late Show Band were playing Chuck Mangione's hit "Feels So Good" as the show was coming back from a commercial break.  Colbert brought it to the attention of the audience and Cato mentioned that Mangione had just died at the age of 84.

When I think of jazz, I tend to think of people like Miles Davis, John Coltrane (who I'm actually listening to as I write this), Art Blakey, Thelonious Monk, Charles Mingus, and Jimmy Smith.  (Wow!  That's a hell of a band, if I do say so myself.)  Consequently, I'll be the first to admit that I have certain prejudices when it comes to jazz.  When I ran the music department at Barnes & Noble, I actually once told my district manager that filing Kenny G in the jazz section was an insult to the memories of Coltrane and Charlie Parker.  I do tend to abhor what is referred to as "smooth jazz"--I'm even mean enough to say that it's called "smooth jazz" because it acts as a natural laxative.  When I hear it, I tend to picture Garth Algar freaking out in a dentist's chair.

And I realize that jazz, like any other genre of music, evolves over time.  Different artists bring their own perspectives and interpretations and make their own unique art.  I really should lighten up and become more tolerant.  I'm not going to do it this week, but perhaps someday.  But I digress...

Even though Mangione's music tends to lean more toward the smooth rather than the cool, it is hard for me to just dismiss his contributions to music.  I'm also one of those odd blokes who tends to critique music both objectively and subjectively.  It's one thing to say that this is good or that sucks and be able to cite reasons why.  In my case, hearing certain pieces of music also tends to evoke a lot of memories of places and events and even other people.  It's usually quite difficult for me to separate the music from those memories.

Even though I have memories of "Feels So Good" from when it was a hit, when I hear it, I often remember 1997.  I was driving around Bloomington on my day off from my job waiting tables.  I had not yet moved to that city and had it in my mind that I wanted to do so.  The radio station in my car played "Feels So Good."  I thought back to hearing it nearly twenty years earlier and how much I liked it even then.  Along with Frank Mills's "Music Box Dancer," it was one of the few songs I would hear on the radio that didn't have words.  Weirdly enough, hearing it again did, in fact, feel so good.  When I was a kid, I didn't know the song's title or who played it, so I was delighted when the DJ said it.

Before too long, I found myself at one of my favourite record stores in downtown Bloomington, just off the Indiana University campus.  I decided I wanted to track down this piece of music.  I found two CDs--the original album the song was featured on and a "greatest hits" compilation.  To my horror, I discovered the compilation used the "single edit" of the song.  My moral opposition to such things prompted me to buy the original album--something I've found is usually the best course of action, hence these weekly missives.

I listened to that album many times over during that time of my life, particularly the full nine minute and forty-two seconds long title track.  I even sat down behind a piano and managed to pick out the melody by ear.  To this day, when I hear the song--or any track from the album--I sometimes feel like I'm once again behind the wheel of a 1988 Toyota Tercel on the streets of Bloomington... preferably in the rain.

Released originally in 1977 (a fact I'm proud to say I knew before I saw the movie Doctor Strange), please enjoy Chuck Mangione with Feels So Good.  It still does.

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