zabokrugby8 Reviews

Islander (2006)

Hollywood: Can't touch this!

[10/10 · 9 February 2015]

Nothing these days in the movie industry surprises me; so learning that this 'gem' was produced by an independent film maker had little shock value...

What did catch me napping though was the 'quality' throughout; especially breathtaking was the cinematography. The camera crew certainly had the right focus. The shots/scenes on Maine's coastal waters left an indelible effect; made me want to visit there; Lickity split!

The plot/theme is 'all American'. In its simplicity, the director used the touching story-line to capture the real cultural milieu of life on a small island. In that small microcosm, everything and every living soul are interconnected; right on down from the economy to personal relationships including family and the tight-knit bonds and camaraderie of the fisherman, we, the viewer catch a genuine upfront and in-your-face view of what living in a 'fishbowl 'so-to- speak is all about.

Then there's the tragedy; when main character, Eben Cole, loses his cool and in a fit of anger causes the loss of life of a fellow fisherman though by accident, we see, through the director's skillful control of the scenes how the entire community closes ranks. Once favored but now shunned and shuffled off to prison for 5 years on a manslaughter plea bargain deal, Eben, prepares for his detention. After his release, he begins the long road to redemption. Thomas Hildreth, as Eben, is rock solid; his portrayal is near perfect; but flawed enough to evoke our pathos.

The rest of the cast deliver equally moving and plausible performances; especially note worthy is Amy Jo Johnson. Cast as Cheryl, Eben's wife, Amy is a good fit: she handles the role of a distraught and then subsequently estranged spouse with ease. Judy Prescott as Emily, the island's doctor, projects a genuine sensitivity about living alone on an island that is not that easy to capture on film. With the director's help though she through her feminine charms becomes the healing balm that Eben is in dire need of...

Then there's Philip Baker Hall; as 'Popper' the savvy actor provides the much needed perspective for not only to the tragedy but as the wise, village elder he represents the entire community's historical roots; his role is akin to that of an anchor for the boats and the lives of the crew in real danger of being cast adrift during a tempest; scuza the pun.

Make no mistake; this is a man's film; told primarily from a male perspective and bias; an American Classic. Its core theme is all about real life fishermen, many of which are trying to stay alive and in the process still provide for their families; in good times as well as when trouble arrives.

As I said in the beginning: the real beauty of this film is its simplicity; no throw away lines; no wasted dialog; no hackneyed clichés; just real honest discourse; spoken in the manner and at a level that every local person would understand.

Just the way I like them...

Oh, by the way. The soundtrack, 'Start Over' is out-of-this-world haunting yet cathartic at the same time. The guitar riffs throughout provide the emphasis in just the right places; does not get much better than that.

Bravo! I doff my cap to everyone associated with bringing this great film to the public. Need more like this; many more from the 'independents'.

The Sand Pebbles (1966)

Timeless Epic: Masterpiece Theater.

[10/10 · 1 January 2014]

This film, is not about politics, global or otherwise. It's not even concerned with the plight of the Chinese in their indebted servitude at the turn of the 20th century. Nor does it make a good case for or against the expansionist policies (some say 'gun boat diplomacy') of the new emerging world power: the United States of America. By the way, and maybe out of pure happenstance romanticism does make some fanciful suggestions in the plot. However, its inclusion is not done in any meaningful 'chick flic' sort of way. Thank Wise for that!

Yes, those themes do resonant in Robert Wise's 'Sand Pebbles'. On careful viewing one would detect, I'd think, that the aforementioned are merely sub-themes; those in aggregate have all been reduced to doleful subterfuge of a much larger, poignant message: adventurism. In today's modern lingo that equates to: 'Exceptionalism'. And yes, I'm talking the American Brand: The kind of action films that Hollywood studios produced back then. And by way of clever, and not so subtle scripts the swagger of the those heroes were all induced into our culture.

And who better represents the iconic 'cowboy' so fully inculcated in the American psyche since General Custer's halcyon filled though fateful raid along the Apache trails in the hunt for Geronimo, other than Steve McQueen. Moreover, it seems that since time immemorial, dating back even before the birth of Sparta, there would emerge a character, with such bravado and with universal appeal that males from every creed, race and historical epoch would try to emulate; the one possible sole exception was: Alexander the Great. Maybe I overshot...

However, even the world's first hallowed conqueror would doff his colorful, plume adorned helmet after having experienced just one McQueen performance on the silver screen. I'm certain of this, if...

By all accounts, this film really is a dedication. Call it a celebration. At its core, the entire focused lens is on Steve McQueen. Well, as far as he can fill out the Jake Holman main character. McQueen, not only lends his lean flesh, and right from the opening scene the real man's actor flexes his muscles; and in the process he adorns the ordinary Navy midshipman with layer upon layer of all the right stuff.

Glorious stuff that heroes are made of: grace, make that courage under pressure, the willingness to act out of conviction. His 'I do give a damn' idealism is always on display. Foremost, McQueen as Holman, and always without hesitation backs the under dog even if that dog's form comes as a lowly 'coolie'; and at the risk of being ostracized by one's own peer group.

Throughout the film, McQueen's rendition of the Jake Holman 'loner' persona was a joy to behold. His on screen performance was Oscar worthy. He alone is the film's tour de force. Why he didn't win one remains an enigma? I'm sure other McQueen fans share my same sentiments though also in disappointment. Because, in cinema, there is no better male thespian when it comes to handling props. Done correctly, a good prop man can give any screen shot the particular esoteric emphasis the director seeks; even to steal the spotlight. Be it staring down the barrel of a carbine after sighting his target or with a sturdy spanner at the ready in his grease stained hands, while listening attentively to the diesel engine for valve lash or to detect a worn main bearing on the U.S.S. San Pablo's refitted crankshaft, no one actor, past or present, is more adroit at getting his point across; and without sayin a word.

Now that's exclusively Steve McQueen territory. And over the years, even the decades, since the Sand Pebbles release in 1966, so many have tried. However, the usurpers all failed. And in misery they all missed their mark. I'm not surprised. I'll even go out on the limb: not one of the current crop even ranks as a contender. And none will ever attain the mantle of success that Steve McQueen enjoyed while playing the strong, silent types. Maybe that's cinematic justice...

Hunger (2008)

Hunger: Indeed, Bobby Sands Epitomized the Continuing Irish Struggle

[10/10 · 25 November 2013]

It doesn't matter which side of the Irish Independence Movement divide you reside on. Neither does it matter much if you're in the middle. However, many of my generation at some point were acquainted with the struggles often violent which took place in still troubled Northern Ireland: especially during the Seventies and right on up through the Eighties. For the most part, I was always and still am: an Irish sympathizer.

Now if you recall like I do, the IRA waged at times fierce guerrilla war battles against the British Occupation forces in the 'Northern half' of the Emerald Isle. And much of the time the target of their ire was none other than Great Britain's P.M. and 'Iron Lady', Margaret Thatcher (IRA made numerous assassination attempts against her life). She though, and true to her moniker was unmoved by the plight of the Catholics in the north. And why should she? Maggie was not a 'wet' like many of her Tory contemporaries. No sir; on the contrary, Mrs. Thatcher took pride in her stance as a committed 'dry' Tory. For those of you not in the know, that meant that Maggie felt, well, little or nothing for the struggles of the masses in her native England let alone caring for the oppressed, some say, illegal imprisoned Catholic underclass just across the Mersey Side in Belfast and in the surrounding 'Orange' counties.

The facts are well known: Maggie's feckless position (official and personal) on the real, ongoing challenges of life in the Catholic ghetto of Belfast was about to change. And the agent of a challenge came in the form of a 'political' prisoner: Bobby Sands, a former member of the outlawed IRA. And Sands along with some 20 or so fellow inmates were about to embark on course that would end for some of them in a martyr's death. Bobby Sands, lead the procession of the starving, dying inmates. Right to the very end he would not give an inch nor take a morsel of nutrition. Thatcher though was unmoved. She, as expected was unflinching in her defiance against recognizing the prisoners' demands as scrawled by their now weakened hands in their Prisoners' Rights Manifesto.

'Hunger' left many indelible impressions on me. Disturbing would be the more apt descriptor. To wit, the scene, the one where a lengthy discourse took place between Sands and an interloper Catholic but caring priest, is by far the most poignant articulation for both those 'for and against' the path to martyrdom by starvation. The wily priest certainly presented his case 'against' with all the rigors of the Church. And there was much merit in his arguments: Sands, married, and with two young children, by his death would leave a huge void in their lives. However, Sands was just as resolute in defiance of the clergyman's pleas for 'sanity'. Someone had to take a stand against tyranny of the state as evidenced by the British unjust (some say illegal), even inhumane treatment of Irish political prisoners. And Bobby Sands, though self anointed was just that person who would lead the vanguard charge into the breach. He did so, even if it meant the ultimate personal sacrifice: pouring out his broken, and impoverished body before the intransigent British authorities and a mesmerized but largely uncaring international audience.

What a pity. For sure, the Irish and Sands' movement was largely eclipsed by Nelson Mandela's protracted imprisonment and the black consciousness movement against the apartheid regime in South Africa. On the other hand, this giant of a film portrayed, in no uncertain terms, that the Irish quest for true equality (and full independence) was just as laudable vis-a-vis any or all of those more 'newsworthy' peoples fighting servitude against oppressor governments throughout the globe. Even today, there are far too many 'just causes' that rarely, if ever, get the MSM's full attention. Now that's really a shame.

Good on director Steve McQueen and the superb actors (all of them) who helped bring this social injustice to light. Moreover, this magnificent film should be mandatory viewing in educational institutes worldwide; the younger the audience, the better.

Broken Hill (2009)

Good on you, Mates. For Making My Day!

[10/10 · 8 October 2013]

NO doubt about it: the mere mention of anything to do with the 'Land of Oz' instantly piques my interest. No surprise...

And always, my imagination rises to the occasion. To wit, I conjure only the best images: adventure in the Outback, pretty women galore, the entire continent as a vast expanse of one of the last frontiers worthy to explore and Australia's colorful people. All of them. To wit, in 'Down Under' there's no shortage of the those 'good things in life'. Some are even free to experience. Someday, I'll get there.

For sure, the film 'Broken Hill' explores some of the aforementioned attributes. And the producers and directors do so with a sensibility and sensitivity that is all too lacking in Hollywood past and present. For example: conspicuously absent from the plot are the usual Big Studio suspects: gratuitous sex, mindless blather, random violence in any form and exceptionalism based on one's nationality. And we're spared the useless sitting around the dinner table, gorging gobble-gobble scenes.

To wit, this story shuns all those 'normal' instant gratification gambits that Hollywood seems to thrive on. Instead, we the viewer are respected: a good film should begin with a solid plot. And end with denouement. Well, the director in Broken Hill does just that. In 'All Aussie' style too. Every single scene revolves around real persons. And those characters really are presented in a real sense. Warts and all.

Luke Arnold, as main character Tommy McAlpine gives a good impression of the Australian indelible character/spirit even in youth. Alexa Vega, as Kat Rogers, an ex-pat American's high school student daughter, is equal to the task. We soon learn too, that Kat is more Aussie than she appears. Many occasions, Kat's all too 'advanced' cultural roots in America belie her true feelings. Just ask her, Tommy boy! Took him long enough to broach her on this hot topic though.

Moreover, Alexa more than once scolds Tommy on the importance of being earnest: human beings are all connected, totally aside from nationalities and/or birth rights. At least, she said it should be that way. Significant others agree too: President Bill Clinton aptly put it plainly in his book, 'Back to work', "We're all in this together". Well said, Sir!

The rest of the cast really did a 'smashing job' of their roles too. Timothy Hutton, is a fine example. As Tommy's dad, George McAlpine, Tim is every bit an Aussie as are the mighty likes of Mick Dundee, Paul Hogan, the Wallabies... OK. I over shot with the last group.

And did I mention the local music and the cinematography? Both are altogether pleasing if not down right out-from-under-this-world. And that fellow playing the steel guitar...

G-day!

The Motorcycle Diaries (2004)

Perfect Portrait: Those Halcyon Days of our Youth

[10/10 · 15 September 2013]

First, had to set aside my prejudices to view this film. If you're like me whenever 'Ernesto Che Guevera' is even mentioned en passant, I found myself conflicted. Yes, I too have many preconceived notions as to who the 'real' Che was. But from the film adaptation of the novel by Guevera's own hand, we learn that Ernesto started out in earnest (scuza the pun): Guevera studied to become a doctor. Quite the noble calling. And far flung from his later political activist career where his life was cut short: he died in a hail of bullets; called for by his Bolivian captors and eventual executioners.

Let me set that all aside for now. Ernesto or 'Fuser' as he was affectionately known to his side kick and co-adventurer, Alberto, who is slightly older but still in his twenties plans the adventure of a lifetime. Together the 20 year-old idealists riding two up in the saddle atop an oil bleeding but still functioning single cylinder 500 cc Norton affectionately named 'The Mighty One' set out. They envision seeing and experiencing the length and a good part of the breadth of the South American continent.

The intrepid explorers begin their journey in their native Argentina. From Buenos Aires, they ride south. Then they plan to head north: hug the Pacific coast and follow the roads all the way up from the tip of Chile. Their destination: Venezuela. Once they reached Caracas, Fuser and Alberto would celebrate the latter's 30th birthday. The entire journey was to take no more than six months.

En route, the explorers experience everything from the forever changing landscapes such as the towering Chilean Andes to the gamut of human emotions. Even at their tender age, I doubt if the lads were prepared or even welcomed their encounters with fellow 'average' Latin Americans. Especially poignant is their visit to a Leper Colony. Fuser is moved from the very first encounter. Moreover, he cannot hide his indignation at the suffering of the sick but also for the oppressed peoples that they encounter throughout. Alberto, on the other hand, is all too consumed with his amorous side of the adventure. For certain, he is not one to morph into a deep thinker. Not if a loose skirt or unbuttoned female tunic beckons nearby.

Late in the film, Alberto though does have his epiphany; sort of. In Venezuela,the two pals who were almost inseparable but at times insufferable; part ways. Fuser now filled to the brim with memories of the social injustices he's experienced everywhere on the continent is resolute: he vows to change the world. Or at least the Latin American contingent. Alberto,not of the same persuasion, disavows himself from that laudable platitude. But not before the two exchange tear filled hugs. Then Alberto returns to Venezuela. Fuser doesn't join him; he sets his sights farther afield: Cuba.

Throughout this film, I was drawn to their journey. Many times I felt transported to each scene: I was right there, alongside the two Latin musketeers. And along with the ethos and pathos themes there was plenty of humor to draw from as well: such as their harrowing escape from the local dance hall after Fuser tried to romance the drunken mechanic's wife. The benevolent tradesman who just hours earlier had offered to repair the 'tired' Norton for free, sobered up just in time: a friend caught the two tryst makers escaping into the Chilean night air; almost certain they would christen their chance meeting.

Both director Walter Salles and producer Robert Redford deserve many kudos for making this stirring and moving film. Despite what your views now are on how Ernesto Che Guevera turned out later, if you're like me, theFuser character as portrayed brilliantly in the film by Gael Garcia Bernal is one to emulate at any age. To wit, it's never too late to show compassion on those that society has forgotten. Makes no difference where you live either. Or what your political affiliations are. How can we remain silent when so much injustice still abounds in the world? I remember Fuser saying the exact same line. Many times; still needs to be said even more.

Good on all those who helped make this film a reality. Because the reality is this: much social injustice exists around the globe even today; still seems to be a topic that is to be avoided at all costs; especially by the 'haves'. A pithy but needed observation...

Invictus (2009)

The Good, the Bad and the Rugby

[8/10 · 28 June 2013]

Had far too many reservations about even viewing this film let alone singing its praises; from the outset, I didn't think it had a snowball's chance in hell of any success. Hollywood or otherwise. But I was wrong.

Along came Clint Eastwood. Sure, the seasoned director with a meticulous eye for detail, rode onto the highveld and Joburg with high hopes. He knew a good script when handed one. But Clint was not alone. The big gun was wary. Make that wise. To placate any doubts, he hired gunslingers, er, good help: Morgan Freeman more than stepped up to play the role of Nelson Mandela; the veteran actor stood tall, and often in the breach. Early on, Freeman almost morphed and even became 'the New South Africa's' first black President. To wit, Freeman's manner, expression,speech and Xhosa accent mirrored those of the larger than life image of the real man. At least on camera.

On the other side of the racial divide, Matt Damon, as Springbok Rugby Captain Francois Pienaar even lent Mandela his capable, and strong hands Although bourne of the Boer identity, Pienaar relished his helper role in setting the old Republik on a new, shining path into former uncharted territory: forgiveness and reconciliation.

The end game was not that the Springboks must win and become the 1995 Rugby World Champions and hoist the coveted Ellis Cup. No... That was a corollary or pretense to a loftier even more more laudable platitude: unite, actually anoint the nation under a Rainbow Coalition of racial harmony.And rugby, that cherished Afrikaaner tradition forever shrouded in those nefarious (to the native masses) green and gold jerseys was the preferred if not unwitting vehicle to accomplish such a noble undertaking. No doubt, Pienaar, knew something 'big' was about to happen. He had a good feeling. As did Mandela. The two disparate men soon became close friends. At times, almost inseparable. If not insuperable. That is the 'right' stuff for good even great beginnings.

Now, to address the bad...

Nothing really egregious. We owe that to Clint: he stuck (or was mired in) to the script. It was all about Nelson Mandela: his coming out as President, his time in the sun, or under the spotlight, so to speak. And Mandela deserved his star treatment. After all, Nelson as a founding member of then banned ANC party spent his best years, almost 27 (at one point, Matt, increased the punishment to 30 years) incarcerated for treasonous crimes against the state on a wretched rock pile, marooned away from civilization but safe from 'open' apartheid, on Robben island. The constant fawning over Madiba the President is the film's one (minor) shortcoming. Although at times, we do catch some strong even poignant glimpses of the majority blacks ire with Mandela for donning the green and gold jersey and his total commitment to winning the hallowed Webb Ellis Rugby World Cup. However, in aggregate, those didn't even amount to a skirmish let alone full blown civil disobedience.

Along the same lines, we learn little if anything at all from/about the Boers (Afrikaaners). To wit, we hear nothing from them regarding their prospects/objections to achieving a workable partnership with their new 'baases': the formerly oppressed native masses. Also disturbing, not one white South African, neither Boer or English is seen raising his fist nor is heard out of ignorance (or otherwise) shouting a racial slur or otherwise pointed objection to Mandela's scrum filled ambitions. Too good to be true? Maybe not. My impression, er, Clint's projection: the entire nation had gone rugby mad. Which was good for the script...

Which lead straight into the rugby matches. Although the Springbok squad reached rock bottom at the tournament's beginning and we're not given even the slightest chance of making it out of the group stages to the quarter finals (we're often reminded of the experts' pessimistic assessment by a mustachioed and cheeky Afrikaaner sportscaster), the grand stage was set. The stadium props were built Bok solid. All the while the pressure for the hosts to win mounted. And the warthog Boks finally got their true inspiration. It came in the unlikely form of Mandela's favorite poem:Invictus.

Transcribed by Mandela's own pen, the epic literary piece was hand delivered personally by captain Pienaar. The veteran Bok captain, though blurted out the sacred passages' 'true' meaning to his love interest when questioned about his special mission...

"I think he wants us to win the World Cup."

Lights out. You really thought Clint wouldn't insert a gratuitous love scene? Well, Matt is human. And Hollywood still calls all the shots (in the dark). Clint's squinting, twitching eyes notwithstanding...

Breaker Morant (1980)

Finally: A Historical film that Treats the Boer Fairly

[10/10 · 14 January 2013]

If you believe like I do, that war is utterly futile, then you should view Breaker Morant. There is no better film that captures that essence. Even after 10 viewings, this film still captivates my complete attention.

And there are many reasons. Just to list a few: the plot is riveting, the actors are superbly cast in their disparate roles and the natural backdrop and scenery are simply stunning. Amidst all of that lies the core attraction of this film: courtroom drama. Even The Bard would have had much difficulty replicating such suspense, emotion and linguistic eloquence in a play. Speaking of suspense, during the military court-martial, each and every utterance from the main players had my full and complete attention.

Not many, if any one film of a similar genre has ever done that before.

If there is one weakness though, the film is Aussie biased; so much so, that I got the impression the directors/producers blamed Britain solely for the execution of two of their native sons. Yes, the 'Thin Red Line' was culpable for committing atrocities against the Boers (concentration camps in Northern Transvaal) but were the British the lone culprits?

Now, hold on a New York minute! It's true that Lord Kitchener sought a quick way to extricate himself (and the Brits) from this 'dirty' war. And it's implicit in the film that, Morant and at least one of his two lieutenants were expendable BUT it's also clear that two of the Aussie colonial volunteer soldiers did commit murder: the German pastor. And the soldiers were even unabashed about the events leading up to the heinous deed during the court martial. In the dock, they all admitted their 'hate' for the German pastor's partisan stand. Their words...

"He helped the Boer cause, solely. And we warned him about the consequences, many times."

And justice was served; the fact that it came by a British military court martial is moot. As soldiers, those Aussies knew the penalty. And the one (George) who was spared execution, probably knows now or should have known then, that he was only 'pardoned' because of his young age. Although, judging by the film's plot, his 'role' in the atrocities was deemed negligible even by the prosecution. The judges though didn't exactly state a compelling case for his innocence either.

Not convinced? Watch this film and 'judge' for yourself...

Cry, the Beloved Country (1995)

A Mighty Sad Tale of Two Solitudes set in RSA

[10/10 · 16 July 2012]

With this film, I am pleased to say, they (the producers/director/actors) finally got one right: South Africa, caught in the throes of a growing racial divide already had much to atone for. Sooneror later, justice had to prevail. And it did, though much later and at great cost in the innocent lives lost.

The film's setting is Natal Province, South Africa during the early apartheid era. Albeit 'the separation of the races' was not officially sanctioned by the state at that time. Still, the prejudice against the blacks was practiced by practically all of the foreign settlers. It didn't matter whether you were of British descent or of Boer blood. The 'pecking order' with whites atop of the ladder had to be maintained. And it was preserved with little or no regard to the loss of human dignity and lives.

Richard Harris delivers an outstanding performance as James Jarvis. He's a wealthy white landowner. To his family and peers, Jarvis is more than respected. He's revered. To his workers, especially the African natives he's feared. They all call him 'Baas Man'. That title says it all.

On the other side of the racial divide, we encounter Rev. Stephen Kumalo. Make no mistake: James Earl Jones portrayal of the quiet man was so intense yet sensitive it almost moved me to tears. In fact, it did on at least two occasions, maybe more.

Although they live in the same remote rural community, the two respective leaders of their 'volk or tribe' rarely if ever have met even in public. Soon, that would change. In Joburg, the largest city and also the commercial hub of the Republic, a gruesome murder has taken place. This random act of violence though unbeknown to either Jarvis or the Reverend Kumalo, will ultimately unite the two disparate men. They both would suffer the loss of a son: Jarvis through murder, and Kumalo through capital punishment. No doubt, nothing short of a cruel fate was necessary to draw both men closer to themselves and eventually each other.

Now as a citizen living abroad, after having sojourned in the Republik for many years, I will say I was deeply moved by each man's journey. Save the political message (way too much liberalism) I believe the film first and foremost conveyed a single, laudable tenet: as human beings, we owe it to God to walk in our neighbor's shoes even though we've grown so comfortable in our own, 'private' space.

By Jove, this film achieved just that emotive plane. And thank Almighty God too for inspiring Alan Paton's novel of the same title as well. Moreover, I am certain the silver screen adaptation did the author, the beloved country and the characters much righteous justice.

Captain Alatriste: The Spanish Musketeer (2006)

Beautiful Tale of Courage and Soldierly Honor, Old World Spanish Style

[9/10 · 12 June 2012]

Now this international offering was worth the wait; the viewing was testament to that sentiment.

For those of us who forgot, this film speaks aloud to remind us: Espana, now free of the Moors once ruled the world both known and unknown. They also commanded the high seas in every direction for well over a century. OK, England might object.

And even I wouldn't begrudge them their opposition. However, even the spirited English took a backseat to the Spanish expeditionary marches throughout Europe and in the 'new world'. This was especially true in the 16th and 17th centuries. Just ask their demolished and demoralized victims, like the peoples of Flanders after they fell to the famed Spanish infantry regiments.

Viggo Mortensen is living, talking proof of the Conquistadore's superiority at least in the cinematic sense. And with every new adventure either in the battlefield on the King's orders or in the amorous lounge of his maiden, Mortensen as the lead, rose to the occasion time and again; scuza the pun. Soon we learn that the Capitaine Alatriste just can't say no. The Crown was well aware of his 'weakness'. And the crafty state planners exploited him at every turn. The commissions (military) came in droves.

Truth is some assignments were so dangerous that his superiors hardly expected him to return. Well, they would have preferred but then respected his dead corpse though. Ah, now we see the pure luridness of the aristocracy; they would sacrifice even the most loyal and devoted subject when gold was part of the cache. In the script, the yellow new world metal often featured prominently.

Overall this film had it all: suspense, horrific battle scenes, camaraderie and personal duels settled by the lethal swath of a polished Toledo sword. Throughout, it even featured political chicanery in the highest places. And those many covert cross-class amorous trysts added intrigue in just the right places. You guessed right: the working classes always gave the rite of passage for passion to royalty first. It was either that or be skewered for your refusal. Even Philip the 'planet king' took his ransom share, plus more.

Although lurking in the shadows of Mortensen, one supporting cast member almost eclipsed the swashbuckling Capitaine for bravado. He came in the form of a Sicilian mercenary. Smallish in stature this polished swordsman was more than a match for any Spaniard targeted with his insults. And with a little more polish and a lot less bragging, perhaps this professional, seasoned killer could have usurped them all. That threat applied to the king's own courtiers and royal guard as well.

And I also enjoyed his island accent. Then of course I would. My ancestry is part Siciliano too!

Flight of the Phoenix (2004)

Not Great But Not Bad (for a Remake)

[7/10 · 7 June 2012]

For those audiences who have not seen the original (for whatever reason) I recommend the redux version. Despite its perceived shortcomings the film should appeal to them. Yes, this film is a modern version and adaptation replete with today's warped lingo. Nonetheless, director John Moore delivers a worthy product.

And instead of panning his selection I applaud Dennis Quaid's inclusion. He's not Jimmy Stewart. No surprise there. Nevertheless Dennis does a darn good job in his rendition of the oft jaded Captain Frank Towns the pilot of ill-fated cargo plane. Although later he had some really weak even lame moments. One stand outs. It was his response to the female oil crew member's plea to search for a 'lost' companion.

Initially stubborn and even oblivious to the plight of the oil rig crew, Quaid soon bends somewhat. He even shows some redemptive qualities. Ina sheepish voice, he replies.

"OK. I'll go."

Still, Quaid provided a credible account of how a seasoned and journeyman pilot may have responded in a similar real life-or-death situation. For the most part, he did nothing.

Fast forward...

The real story and its rising star begins and ends with the appearance of 'Eliot', the aviation engineer (miniature as in models). Giovanni Ribisi takes control of the dire situation and the film. Moreover, he offers just enough contrast in his character to make the viewer wish to know more about him. then, forget the other cast members. Soon, they all rescind to the background as robots.

And why not. Kaiser Eliot requests and then demands their complete obedience. Always mindful, he sets a lofty goal. His singular task and focus is to get the job done: build a 'new' Phoenix from the remains of the wreckage. Hey, it sounded good to me. If asked, I too would have jumped at the chance to help.

More kudos...

The cinematography was terrific. Especially satisfying was experiencing the wild, gut wrenching plane ride almost the moment after take-off. Minutes later the plane is caught in the fierce clutches of a monster Mongolian desert storm.

There's no way out. Eliot, knows that too. After venturing to the cockpit, he bravely apprised Captain Towns.

"You're too heavy."

What did Eliot earn for his sterling effort and sage advice? Towns, sternly rebuked him.

"Get back in your seat!"

Thereafter, events got real interesting. First, the plane's radio antenna was sheared off...

The Greatest Game Ever Played (2005)

Too Good To Miss

[10/10 · 1 June 2012]

What a splendid, delightful film! This one takes not only a compelling look at early twentieth century golf but the period as well. The props, costumes, speech and manners were first rate, both sides of the Pond.

And the movie's themes were eclectic. The makers had covered most angles: Anglo-American rivalry, class privilege, pedigree and familial struggles especially between father and son. As an aside we even catch a good glimpse of some darn good snooker play. The London gentlemen club's ambiance reminded me of my stay at a similar venue. Maybe my foray too was on the Isle of Jersey...

The grand theme of all though was the game of competitive golf.

Young American, Francis Quimet, is born to immigrant parents. At an early age the tender lad develops a passion for the game. For now, the lad caddies for the rich. In his spare time and on his own dime, gentle Francis patiently hones his golf skills.

Most nights, Francis dreamt often of a bigger stage. And the drama always revolved around golf.

On the other side of the Atlantic, another gigantic saga develops. Already of much renown in professional sport, golfer Harry Vardon has something yet to prove. Before he bows and then leaves golf's pinnacle his rich-heeled minders persuade him to enter one last 'big' tournament: the eighteenth annual, 1913 U.S. Open tournament.

Using masterful speech, Lord Grand-Jowls exhorts the famous English golf professional. "You must do it for 'The Empire'; show the Yanks it's still 'our' game."

A more likely translation is: "Let's all milk the fat American cash cow, now!" That's more like the truth, ain't it?

Unlikely competitors, the young American caddie and seasoned English golf professional are on a collision course. In their unique way both men pursue golfing excellence. In the film often along the fairways we're shown that both men also suffer from inner personal struggles.

At times, each man manages to conceal the turmoil within. However, at critical moments like the fifth round U.S. Open playoff both young amateur and seasoned pro alike while pitted against each other reveal their human frailties. During regulation play, small fissures appeared even surfaced in each man's game.

In the playoff their nerves and fragile inner selves are tested to the maximum. Both men though reach even deeper. Over 18 grueling holes, they remain calm. Their former demons have since vanished. Relying solely on their unique golf skills the men battle the course, each other, and themselves.

In the tension filled round, each man finds personal redemption. On 18, one fellow prevails. The other, though coming up a shot short, accepts his fate. Although humbled, he is most gracious in defeat.

Probably like many viewers here, I found myself transported to another era. No doubt it was a simpler time. Like today though ordinary, working folk though still struggled. However, during a major golf competition it was an exciting time for all. Wish I was there then in Brookline, Mass. I would have loved to have lived, well, shared that dream!

Overall, this golf film was darn near cinematic perfection! "Read it, roll it and hole it." Well said, Eddie.

Max Manus: Man of War (2008)

Main Man Max Exceeds His Advance Billing

[10/10 · 24 April 2012]

It's not often that I watch Norwegian films. Tell a lie, this is the second. The first was also a 'war' film though set 10 centuries earlier.

Because of this film I even got a refresher in my European history. To wit, I almost forgot that the Soviet Union invaded Finland at the beginning of WWII. What I didn't know is, that many Norse young males volunteered to help the Laplanders repel the Communist invaders.

Max Manus was just such a man. Still in his teens, 'the soldier' in Max came out with a vengeance. Unfortunately, the Bolshevik infantrymen were on the receiving end of his fury.

Now a decorated hero and soldier of renown in his native Norway, Mad Max sets new goals. In his gun sights are the soldiers of another aggressor nation: Nazi Germany. Together with friends, some of them since childhood, Max organizes the resistance and the official underground.

And Max, as expected, finds his old soldierly form. For certain he is good at his trade, namely: killing and mayhem. Even the Nazi hordes recognize this; problem is they can't catch him.

Even when he is in their clutches and under hospital arrest, Max finds a way to wiggle his way free. In the film, he dives out a second story window. The most he suffered was a 'minor' concussion.

The next minute we see him in Sweden at a safe house. Five minutes later he's in England. There, the exiled Norwegian King decorates his bravery with a medal. And, that was all that was needed. At the King's behest, Max returns to Norway though in the employ of HMS to wreak even more havoc on the Nazis.

This film makes good use of the props. The scene where Max and his band of saboteurs attach Russian made 'Limpet' mines to enemy ships in Oslo harbor, gives the movie script much credibility. For sure, the director and the advisers really were up on technology and methods deployed for that period.

Even more impressive was the movie's subterfuge or sub-themes. Throughout, the viewer is reminded, that all too often a decorated war hero sometimes succumbs to alcohol or some other equally destructive addiction once hostilities cease. Max, was almost one those great men whose name was almost forgotten after the liberation.

Fate though intervened. After the war Max kept his alcoholism in check. Later, he became a successful businessman, married his love interest from the war. Then Max died at a ripe old age.

Good on him.

Hotel Rwanda (2004)

Hotel Rwanda: Oscar Worthy Film, Cheadle for Sure ***Some Spoilers***

[9/10 · 28 March 2012]

Although dwarfed by the national scope of the actual events, 'Hotel Rwanda' did capture succinctly sometimes even in vivid detail the horrors that were inflicted by the Hutu and Tutsi tribal factions on each other. Some say the scale of Hutu slaughter of the minority Tutsis reached genocide proportions.

And as we learned from the film the Hutus did just that. One major Hutu henchmen character, George, stated it this way.

'"We're half way there."

The screen play is a compelling story. Paul, (reprised masterfully by Don Cheadle) is a front-line manager at the 4 Star Des Milles Collines hotel in Kigali, Rwanda's capitol. His colonial employers, the Sabena Corporation, are headquartered in Europe, Belgium to be specific.

No doubt the former colonial rulers of this land still take pride in their African possession. Their resort hotel is an oasis in the hot sun not only to tourists but to foreign diplomats, international press, and domestic government officials.

One of the Rwandan Army's top generals (later convicted for his role in the genocide) in the region is a frequent visitor. Colonel Oliver (Nick Nolte) head of the U.N. Peacekeeping force (sparse) also is an honored guest. We learn soon that the U.N. Colonel Oliver and the good Hutu general share a common trait. The both enjoy the elixir that the staff serves: imported single malt Scotch whiskey.

Paul made sure the bar was always well stocked with good spirits. For certain, life at the hotel was like that of any other African resort: relaxed and far from the maddening crowd and wild animals. Both locals and hotel guests alike enjoy their stays.

Paul sees to it, sometimes personally. In his presence, people are treated royally. His and the hotel's reputation depend on it.

And who wouldn't want to kick up their heels in the hotel's air conditioned bar after a hot day in the Central African sun? For about 30-40 minutes I too succumbed to the hotel's luxurious ambiance and decadent pleasures. Yes, even Cohibas, the finest Cuban cigars were offered to select guests.

Then the dogs of war are let loose. Rumors abound that the Hutu President was assassinated. The head of state was bound for Tanzania to sign a peace agreement with the rebel Tutsi opposition group. Later we learn from the Hutu dominated press (radio) the earlier terrible reports indeed are true.

The Hutu media is quick to add their bias: the traitor Tutsi rebels performed the dastardly deed. Paul disagreed. So did I.

However, the confirmed news and later evacuation of all foreign nationals from Rwanda (only if you're white or the holder of a foreign passport) places Paul, in a serious bind. He and he alone must now fend for and protect those 'guests' forced to stay.

Many of the refugees are Tutsis. Knowing that fact, the Hutu machete wielding militia await outside the gates. With the grounds left unguarded, the Hutus no doubt will invade. Then the feeding (killing) frenzy starts.

Their mission: kill all the traitor 'cockroaches'. That meant the Tutsis were to be singled out. Even the U.N. blinked. They laid an egg but not before Col. Nick announced that the pretty blue helmeted U.N. Armed Force was ordered to pull out of the hotel guarding business, permanently. No surprise there...

Now the their situation looks hopeless. Surrounded all around by bloodthirsty Hutu militia, their supplies cut off, even the water, Paul prepares for the inevitable. He asks each guest to call a friend.

In his own words, Paul knows exactly what to do: play the guilt card. He also instructs his guests on how to say 'Goodbye'.

"Make them (friends) feel ashamed."

Now knowing the true aftermath of the slaughter (almost 1 million), I couldn't find fault with his tack.

Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius (2004)

Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius, Indeed ***Some Spoilers***

[10/10 · 26 March 2012]

Like many amateur golfers, I am interested in learning more of the early history of our game. That's the primary reason why I rented this film.

What better place to start than with this film. Hollywood did a fine job telling the story of one of golf's memorable amateur players: Bob Jones. And for sure many of us are also well acquainted with the Jones' legend: the only man to have captured golf's 'Grand Slam'.

Way back in the Thirties, Bobby Jones won the U.S. and British amateur titles as well as their senior counterparts: The U.S. Open and the U.K.'s 'Open Championship'. Accomplishing all that is no small feat either. Bobby did that in a single calendar year.

And almost immediately after he had climbed golf's pinnacle, Jones announced his retirement from tournament golf. He was 28 at the time.

Some notable pros of his era, fellow American Walter Hagen and Scottish legend Harry Vardon both thought highly of the smallish man from Atlanta Georgia. They too both saw the making of golf legend, many times.

Some matches they won. In others where they lost to Jones' magical shot making, even finishing runner-up was considered an honor. However, winning was not that easy for the mercurial first ever golf 'super-star'.

The film devotes much time to exposing his mystery ailment: stomach troubles. The cure though was less than conventional. Bobby took a little whiskey from time to time. So, the film's producers claim.

Early in his career the film also mentioned another health issue: Bob suffered from varicose veins. He was 'much too young for that', his father decried.

Aside from the heavy exposure devoted to a young Jones' temper, the film cast a bright light even halo over Bobby Jones. That brilliance presided over both the golfer and the man. What I didn't like was the many close-up shots of Jones' helicoptering golf clubs after an errant shot. We get it: club throwing is not flattering behavior for a gentleman's game.

There's no doubt that Bobby Jones was that. He was in fact a Southerner. And Southerners that I've met have always exhibited gentlemanly traits, both behaviorally and in their speech.

The last line here belongs to one of the film's producers. One expressed his sentiments (paraphrased) this way.

"Golf is a backdrop. The real story is about an extraordinary man. Moreover, Bobby Jones left his indelible mark on both the golf world and all those who knew him."

Nothing needs to be added there; I agree, wholly. Bobby Jones both the golf legend and as a fellow citizen are stories of renown. This film captured both the highs and lows of Jones' life on and off the course in a sensitive yet respectful manner.

For their efforts I doff my cap to the producers, directors, crew and actors. And Jim Caviezel's reprisal of the golf legend did Jones proud.

Valkyrie (2008)

Valkyrie: A True Soldier's Tale In Defiance ***Spoiler***

[10/10 · 22 March 2012]

Talk about a difficult subject matter to capture on film, 'Valkyrie' was it.

Not only was the subject culturally sensitive it was no doubt time sensitive (dated) as well. Generations ' X and Y' are probably not well acquainted with what was at stake back then. Maybe many 'baby-boomers' also lack insight about the turmoil that existed inside National Socialist Nazi Germany in 1944.

Those of us who are better versed in world history though are not perplexed by the events 'inside' Nazi Germany. Moreover, we know now what a successful coup would have meant. Possibly the duration of WW II, well, the European 'theater' part could have been shortened had Hitler's would-be assassins succeeded.

And of course at the center of the maelstrom lay Colonel Klaus von Stauffenberg. His role as portrayed by Tom Cruise in the plot to kill the Nazi Supreme Commander was nothing short of supreme bravado even in failure. Cruise, to my surprise delivered a credible account of the German loyal to the Republic but not to Hitler.

Moreover, the Wehrmacht's swearing of an oath of total allegiance to Hitler was all a mistake. Those who swore did on the basis of cleverly concocted lies. Colonel von Stauffenberg states as much many times.

Despite the advance billing of an 'all-star' supporting cast, none of them were needed. Even including Kenneth Branagh and Terrence Stamp as key conspirators, did not alter the cold, bare facts. The film was all about Cruise, er, Col. von Stauffenberg.

A German looking Tommie handled the center stage heat and stress well. By extension an argument can be made here that this was actor Cruise's signature performance on film. That's how I saw him.

Fancy that: the avowed Hitler hater finds redemption in failure. Don't believe me? Ask Tom. The main actor expressed his loathing of Hitler in an interview during filming.

As an adjunct, the director tried his hand at political subterfuge on at least one occasion. If I recall correctly, Hitler's character poses a vexing thought. The camera pans closer. A polished lens soon finds the German leader's cold stare. Thereafter he lays down the gauntlet to Colonel Cruise.

For posterity's sake I'll repeat Hitler's words.

"If one understands this (Valkere), then one understands (German) National Socialism."

Say again...

Sorry Tom, we're out of space. Ex-Chancellor Hitler got the last word. Better luck next time, (if there is one).

Henry V (1989)

If Ever There Was a Compelling Script to Wage a 'Just' War...

[10/10 · 23 January 2011]

Branagh's screen adaptation of the Bard's play, 'Henry V' is it. Well, almost given that the those ne're-do-wellers, the French geniuses behind crafting the Salic Laws, really handed the English Normans a royal gift as a precursor for war with the continent.

And like the good the lad that he was, neither Branagh nor King Harry, just like his progenitor, Edward the Black Prince of Wales could pass the golden opportunity. Now, we're off to see the continent and France following the hell-bent King as he literally blazes a trail across the genteel landscape of his lesser cousins- the Franks.

Without question, Branagh as director follows the Bard's script and lead, word by word. The speech of the entire cast sounded just like those same characters when I first encountered and read the play. The dialog is nothing short of magnificent, even edifying.

However, in the lead role, Branagh leaves, well, something to be desired- namely his appearance. At times he looks his (real) age but acts as if he were a commoner, even a juvenile one at that. For certain even his kingly garb, replete with the royal coat of arms cannot conceal the impression that Branagh as Henry is merely a shadow of the real historical figure. In my opinion, Sean Bean or Liam Neeson are better 'suited' and would have filled out Harry's broad shoulders, and supposed granite chin, with ease.

The entire cast members are all excellent, especially Brian Blessed in his portrayal of the Duke of Exeter, Christopher Ravenscroft as Mountjoy, who as the voice of the Frank cause, gives the besieged smug Aquitaines some element of respectability. And of course there's further cause to celebrate once you've heard the stately voice and viewed the kingly presence of Paul Scofield as King Charles VI of France.

Now, I will expound the best parts and portrayals.

Beginning behind the scenes and amidst the sets and props, the actual film with Derek Jacobi to lead the way, is nothing short of electrifying. As narrator, his refined voice and equally finely sculpted demeanor, provide the viewer with just the right exhortation, which by mine own account would have also compelled me to thrust open those dark, heavy oak laden doors to hear and witness first hand, the forlorn King and his squires make their case for war (though, dubious)with their tennis ball laden, first cousins!

The best scene, is enacted at the staging ground for the hastily contrived and planned invasion- Southampton. It is here, surrounded by the sparkling white cliffs of Dover, that we/I catch a glimpse of the cold-hearted, evil treachery brought on by the open fisted French nobles, much laden with cold coins as fitting recompense for the willing collaborators though they still feigned, quite convincingly their loyalty to the English crown. Once unmasked by Henry by way of a drunkard's loose mouthed still carousing but damning speech, the three noble traitors, do not by their actions (swords drawn) invoke my sympathy for mercy. Neither do their looks of shock and disgust assuage Henry's ire nor stay his hand from execution.

Then it's off to the windy gallows, for the would be usurpers and over the channel waters for the rag-tag expeditionary force of this would be 'band of brothers',though the commoner brigades led by Pistol, do not quite share the same enthusiasm and blood thirst, that their inglorious leader shows evidenced by his many facial grimaces, as he sets sail for Calais, and his soul already set on razing Harfleur to ground ashes. The King's sole regret:

Was his Frank adventure sufficient catharsis to ban from memory forever, the fact that he threw his pub buddy, portly but ever so affable Jack Falstaff (while he was still Prince Hal) under the proverbial English bus for no stately, even kingly ransom?

I thought it was. As did Harry, given his many speeches especially before the battle at Agincourt, and the one on the Feast of St. Krispin.

Doggone it... I'm, er, Harry the King was glad that he could at last escape for just little while, even if it was in France with or without the claret of renown.

By the way, I viewed this fine film, for the 20th occasion. Still, I discover even more reason to laud it, though over an occasional fault line, or fawlty siege tower.

If, the movie site allowed such generosity, I easily would have voted 20 stars- one for each of the featured, main characters. Even those liberties would still leave it well short of its darn near cinematic perfection. And that's over and above the Bard's actual play.