Somebody outside this window has an idea what happened last night. Likely, they have my clothes as well.
Rating: 6 out of 10
When you come across someone like Hunter S. Thompson you do either one of two things: allow yourself to be drawn into his hyper-vivid world of words and violent expression or you can run screaming. When Johnny Depp took on the role of Thompson for the epic drug trip Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Depp not only went willingly inside that world, he became its new champion, vowing to carry on the legend after what everyone knew would be the inevitable death of its creator. While Depp hasn’t tried to transform himself into Thompson outside the silver screen (thank god, I don’t think another human being could ever contain that level of energy) he has attempted at length to let people know who the real man was, the forever beating heart behind the literary lion.
The Rum Diary reports the semi-true story of Paul Kemp (Thompson’s pseudonym for this tale), a struggling novelist looking for his true voice, mostly in the bottom of various bottles of alcohol. He finds himself in Puerto Rico working for the local paper, The San Juan Star, where the publication was already sounding the death knells, but he tries to make the best of it by making friends with locals and criminals alike. Finding himself embroiled in a land grab scheme and madly in love with another man’s fiancee, Kemp fights to keep himself on the right side of his own ethical boundaries. The pressure may have crushed some men, but instead it only crystallizes his purpose in life.
There is a message in the film, but before we get to that, let’s take a look at the package the message is wrapped in. Most people will remember Depp from his first foray into the mind of Thompson and likely come to the theater expecting more of the same drug-fueled insanity. That would be a dreadful mistake. With only one mildly hallucinogenic scene in the entire film, this is largely a straight forward story, with only a mild level of drunkenness in comparison to Fear and Loathing. While there is an inordinate amount of rum imbibed by nearly every person on screen, the core is really two love stories, one between Thompson and his femme fatale, the other between Thompson and his writing. Depp smoothly portrays the deeper and more thought-provoking side of Thompson, but I imagine many audience members left feeling disappointed by the absence of sheer lunacy which they have come to recognize as Thompson’s foremost personality trait. Aaron Eckhart is seamless in his white collar criminal role, pillaging the pristine land of South America for the richest of the rich businessmen, but what is missing is a catharsis or closure to his storyline. By the time he turns, back to the camera and walks away, it lacks any real sense of importance. The other main role goes to Amber Heard (recently seen heading the now defunct TV show, The Playboy Club). She steals Thompson’s heart (both on screen and in real life, she went on to become his wife, one of them) but her on-screen counterpart fails to really bring anything to the table except her looks. There was a wild impetuousness which helped frame the character, but it got old as the film ran on.
Now that we have firmly stomped some some of the reasons for this not being a wild success, let’s look into what is really done well here and where the true heart lies. This is less of a traditional story and more about the formation of a moment in time, the moment where Hunter S. Thompson became the raging, unafraid, unabashed lunatic of the literary world. What you witness on screen is a depiction of the moment when he finds his real purpose, his true voice, and for a fellow writer like myself, this is a awe-inspiring and beautiful thing to see. The character ponders halfway through the film about where he is in his life as a writer, lamenting that he has not learned to write like himself yet. For aspiring writers there are few things more painful and frustrating than that. It is the key to our literary lives and once Thompson found his, he didn’t just walk through the door, proud of his accomplishment, nay, he kicked the door off the hinges with a size thirteen and told everyone else in the room (past, present and future) to get the hell out of his way. There were few like him before and I imagine there will be even fewer after.
The End of the Page recommendation: The Rum Diaries is really there for the true fans of Thompson. Those unaffiliated with the ranks of the Gonzo overlord, please feel free to step out of the way.
Every day when we wake up, we quickly take stock of our surroundings. Is light pouring through cracks in the bedroom curtains? Where is the end of the bed, so I don’t bang my foot against it in the dark again? How long do I have to snooze before I absolutely must get ready for work? These are the types of questions that plague many people each morning. Yet for others, those unlucky enough to be living under the rule of a corrupted and violent government, the only question each morning is more like, “Will I live to see another day?” History has shown many times before how the oppressed can quickly become the oppressor once power sinks its claws in and Zimbabwe, under the rule of President Robert Mugabe, now stands at the pinnacle, waving a flag boasting leadership and unity on one side, but the other a desperate cry for help. Which one will the world respond to?
The Fear: Robert Mugabe and the Martyrdom of Zimbabwe is a harrowing travelogue by Peter Godwin, detailing his trip back to his homeland after an election, which should have ousted their despotic leader, but instead unleashed a paranoid and chaotic fury unlike anything seen before. Peter moves in and out of danger, trying to document as clearly as he can the abuses and tragedies inflicted upon the people who dared to challenge the status quo and spoke their mind in this fledgling democracy.
The set up to this barbarism was a recent national election for Zimbabwe in 2008, where Robert Mugabe, the country’s longtime president, lost to Morgan Tsvangirai in bogus political theater gone wrong (or right, depending on which side you were on). Mugabe and all of his generals had the opportunity to walk away with plumped up golden parachutes and immunity from any number of crimes they committed during his reign. Instead, the madman showed his true colors, not the green, yellow, red and black stripes of their flag, but rather the green of greed and the red of rage towards those who voted against him. With the assistance of his generals, already hardened by previous extreme civil wars, and brutal war veterans who saw Mugabe as the savior and bringer of their true freedom, he set about intimidating, torturing and killing anyone who spoke out against his legitimacy as the one true ruler. Untold numbers have already died in the struggle for true democracy there and even more are living with the physical and mental scarring left behind by roving gangs of power-hungry war vets and brainwashed youth who have been taught torture and death dealing as a civil trade.
Godwin does an amazing job detailing out these horrors, while posting them up against the background of the natural beauty and serenity Zimbabwe can hold underneath. The country, itself awash with the blood of wars between the tribes and now overflowing once again with the bodies of its people, still manages to capture a sense of timelessness and purity in their countryside and jungles. Godwin tries to show that side of his home and prove that keeping those people and their traditions alive, outside the despotism of Mugabe, is truly something worth fighting for, possibly dying for.
The examples and scenarios of intimidation and murder unleashed by Mugabe go far beyond the pale of human rights abuses, causing the international community to balk at recognizing him as the true leader. The opposing party (known as the MDC) has refused to give up and endured years of assassinations and trumped up prison stays in conditions rivaling those in medieval times. Today, you will find a GNU (Government of National Unity) set up in Zimbabwe consisting of members of Mugabe’s cabinet and those of the MDC, but Godwin pulls back the sheen of stability to show the fallacy of this tenuous brotherhood of man. Heads of the opposition only agreed to stop the continued bloodshed and in hopes of staving off outright civil war, but with a new election coming around the bend, people are once again worried they will be targeted for their votes. Towns loyal to the MDC fear they will once again be burned, looted, pillaged and their women raped by roving gangs of Mugabe conscripts.
The Fear was the nickname given by the people to the blanket of intimidation laid over the country by Mugabe and the book reads like something from hundreds of years ago when countries were conquered and re-settled by vicious landlords. Yet, when you let it sink in that these horrible actions are being carried out even to this very day, it chills even the most disconnected reader. It is an eye-opening look into a world many of us would never know, or care to know, exists, but once you see it, you will not be able to look away. For those who do read the book and want to help the cause, there are various ways listed out on Godwin’s website.
The End of the Page recommendation: The Fear strikes deep with painfully detailed examples.
Posted 3 months, 3 weeks ago at 11:10 am. Add a comment
Isn’t it amazing how lifelike my new puppet looks?
Rating: 8 out of 10
One of our history’s most prized and famous sayings is, “You can’t judge a book by it’s cover.” It’s oft repeated because the truth in those words is evidenced nearly every day of our lives. Sometimes you get something far less than you hoped for, which is a unique and terrible type of disappointment. Yet, on luckier occasions, you just might find something unexpected and surprising under that front facing disguise. On the surface this book seems to be about the dangerous mix of politics and religion, coming from the viewpoint of someone who was there in the beginning of this recent flare up of the religious right wing, but what you find in these pages is far less about politics and far more about family.
Crazy for God is a memoir by Frank Schaeffer, who grew up in a very conservative religious household, one that physically roamed throughout his childhood until they landed in their own commune for people to come and learn their holier-than-most viewpoints. What began as a evangelical camp for those looking to escape or rebound from the peace & love generation, Frank witnessed his parents become religious dignitaries at a level they never expected, causing internal strife about what they wanted to be, healers and teachers, and what they had become, weapons.
Having an interest in politics and especially the dangerous mixing of that with religion, the title of this book grabbed me, but politics is merely the context for a much deeper story here, the one between Frank and his family. While finding himself imprinted with his parents views on God, the Bible and the true reason for living, Frank found himself at odds with himself. His internal voice did not match the outer voice he using to appease those around him. Eventually, as his parents find themselves in the middle of this religious revolution in politics, Frank breaks with the family’s creed and has to deal with the consequences.
While I was hoping for more insight into some of the backroom deals made to further the religious right and episodes of hypocrisy in the face of their proposed beliefs, what I got was a profile of a son watching his father lose himself in a movement far beyond his control. The memoir, while being from Frank’s perspective, is more about his father and the toll inflicted on him by the far-right conservative block he helped build with his teachings. It was almost ironic that it grew to something he couldn’t even recognize or control, because that seems to be the fate of almost all religions. I wonder day after day what the early prophets would think of the religions they helped start all those years ago.
In opposition to his father, Frank’s mother revels in the power and glory that the movement grows to and takes each and every chance to bask in the glory of the powerful people in her orbit. The relationship between his parents is another area where the story dives underneath the waves of religious fervor and shows the strain and tension wrought upon people when they are thrust from normalcy into celebrity. What they preach to their followers in the open air of their living room and lecture halls is utterly and totally tossed out the window behind closed doors. It became increasingly impossible for both parents to feel they were doing the right thing when the definition of that was in total contention.
Another chasm that opened widely between Frank’s father and the movement was his treatment of the gay lifestyle. He believed that you can be gay and still love God, but those that rose in the ranks of the religious right alongside him were aghast at the idea. Frank’s father relegated himself farther and farther away from the spotlight, which after many years had begun to burn. By this point Frank himself had turned against the teachings of his parents and while still having his own personal faith had come to the conclusion that his parents’ methods were far from anything he wanted to pass on.
The End of the Page Recommendation: In the end, Crazy for God will resonate less with the political and religious crowd and more with those who have ever had to break the tethers of their parents and blaze a trail in complete opposition to what they were brought up to believe.
Posted 1 year, 4 months ago at 11:55 am. Add a comment
The Che-cycle rides only towards revolution! [insert inspirational road music here]
Rating: 8 out of 10
Everyone has heard the popular phrase, “Never judge a person until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.” Well, many people throughout history have judged those gone before us, especially those who went on to change the course of history. Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara Jr. was one of those people. After growing up in Argentina, he took a soon-to-be-famous motorcycle journey with his friend and compatriot, Alberto Granado, into the deep plains and undeveloped areas of Latin America. During that journey he witnesses abject poverty and suffering of the indigenous people. By the time he returned, seeds of political and revolutionary discourse were germinating in his soul and they would very soon sprout and give rise to the man everyone came to know only as ‘Che’. Even years after his execution by a one-man firing squad, scholars and modern-day revolutionaries alike have attempted to explain and understand who the man was, but very few of them remembered that famous parable above, and those who did remember, didn’t take it to heart like Patrick Symmes.
Chasing Che is a documentary tale of travel, both physical and intellectual, that follows Symmes as he saddles up on his own motorcycle (one a little more modern than Granado’s jalopy) and attempts to follow the exact route those two fellow travelers ventured upon so many years before. Symmes even attempts to limit any and all creature comforts to match whatever Ernesto and Alberto had during their original journey. There are new obstacles, to be sure, and detours must be made, but when they do arise, Symmes rolls with the punches and finds himself transformed into the same road-weathered traveler he is following years behind.
There are many great qualities about this travel journal, but foremost among those is Symmes’ dedication to the quest. At numerous points he could have taken a lighter path, called for more help or equipment or turned back towards more friendly locales, but he continually pushed through in search of the same physical places and people that Guevara and Granado touched on their way through. On more than one occasion, Symmes found himself in conversations of broken Spanish with heavily armed men– some government soldiers, while others were guerrilla warriors still trying to live out some of the mantras Che left behind. One wrong move could’ve landed him in a South American jail or worse, “disappeared” like many opponents of the various controlling regimes. Yet, I believe his saving grace through this was he not going after an ideology, he was going after a man. He made no proposition to learn, live and spread the teachings of Che. Instead what he was after was the true history of the man, good or evil, who would later become Che and change the face of global politics. That objectivity and balance allowed him access through gates many others would have failed to pass.
Two things struck me during the book. First, Symmes continually mentioned the inherent charity of the indigenous people with whom he crossed paths. Time after time he would ride up on his motorcycle, kill the engine a good distance away from a small shanty home and clap his hands twice (to signal that he was friendly and approaching the house). He would almost always find the family willing to give him a small piece of floor to sleep on, or at the very least against the side of the house, and possibly food if they had enough to spread around. The following mornings, many of his new-found landlords would refuse to accept payment, just seeming like it was their duty to help fellow travelers (which many of them are as well considering the great distances between villages and homes). Secondly, Symmes went in the end of his journey to the source, at least, one of the sources; Alberto Granado. Still living reasonably off his notoriety as Che’s wandering partner, Granado granted an illuminating interview and insight into those dusty days on the trail. Symmes had both of Granado’s and Guevara’s original diaries from the trip and he pointed out many of the disparate descriptions of places and actions between them, one moment standing out in particular where Granado and Guevara both credit the other for the heroic rescue of a small kitten. What came from that discovery was that the journey represented different transformations for each traveler. As for the kitten, Granado admitted to laying the heroic banner on Che because he was the one destined for it.
Another factor I found interesting is Symmes was on his travels during the exact same time the government and others were in a desperate search to exhume Che’s body from the hidden dumping ground the Bolivian soldiers left him in. Another writer, Jon Lee Anderson wrote a book entitled, “Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life” (which I have also read and highly recommend), and in his research for that book he interviewed and received confessions from the very people responsible for hiding Che’s body. It had been many years since the action, so the location information was not entirely specific, but both books ended up tying together in the same place and moment, which made for even more interesting reading.
The End of the Page Recommendation: For those interested in learning more about the man behind the mythology and who that is staring back from the hipsters t-shirts and messenger bags, you could do far worse than starting here. As I said earlier, Anderson’s book is another great find, but a much thicker and in-depth read.
Who over there keeps requesting songs from “The Wiz”? Seriously, for the last time, that costume was itchy and I’m not doing it.
Rating: 6 out of 10
Sitting in the screening room, nearly breathless with anticipation, I waited for the lights to drop, the camera to roll and the music of the legendary “King of Pop” to fill the room. With that singular focus in mind, this concert film-cum-documentary fit the bill like a shiny sequined glove. Yet when you look beyond the harmonies and continually catchy beats, This is It fails to really capture much more and didn’t deliver the true experience many people are likely to be hoping for in terms of Michael Jackson’s final words.
This is It chronicles the final rehearsals for Michael’s massive and seemingly impressive last tour. If the level of performance and showmanship hinted at throughout the film was any indication of what the actual full concert experience would have been like, Mr. Jackson would have certainly cemented his place (if there was still any real doubt) as one of the best entertainers of all time. From a 3D movie experience built into “Thriller” to the iconographic dance routines brought back once more in “Beat It”, “The Way You Make Me Feel” and other #1 hit songs, the concert was set to amaze audiences with flashes of the new with blasts from the past.
The main downside of the project is that the footage, according to the opening preface, was commissioned by Michael for his personal archives. This was never really meant for widescreen audiences and in that respect wasn’t shot that way. It is tossed together as a montage of Michael’s greatest hits with a few CGI cutaways showing what things would have looked like if he had made it to the opening night of the tour. What is lacking from this is a real sense of who Michael was. On screen he is detailed as a generous, but strict perfectionist and loved and respected by everyone on the project alongside him, yet there is really no sense of what this tour meant to him and what it was like to get back on the stage again after so many years in relative seclusion. Again, that is not the fault of the director as much as it is a integral problem with why the footage was even shot in the first place.
There is a certain nagging voice in the mass consciousness wondering what the actual reason was for putting the movie together in the first place. Was this to give Michael’s fans one last look into what the King’s final bow would have looked like? Was this an attempt by the tour promoter to recoup some of the millions spent in preparation for this incredibly expensive spectacle? Was it pressure from Joe Jackson, Michael’s father, in an effort to keep himself viable in an industry he is largely shut out of? It’s hard to dig through the statements and actions on all sides and figure out the truth because they are all saying something different, but either way, the film itself proved two things: First, Michael was a consummate performer who at the amazing age of fifty could still move and sing and was prepared to deliver one hell of a final tour, and second, we will never truly know who he was underneath the shine and sparkles.
The End of the Page Recommendation: If you are one of the millions who enjoyed his music, this is entertaining just to hear those songs one more time from the man himself. Yet if you are looking for a deeper look beyond the legend and into the real person, this remains unfulfilling and nothing more than a concert film.
Posted 2 years, 3 months ago at 2:37 pm. Add a comment
You know, it’s easier for me to tip you if the case opened the other way.
Rating: 7 out of 10
At the end of every year there is a wonderful, insane, intentionally over-hyped flood of films known as “Oscar Season”. This is when all the major studios release their heavy dramatic fare, which they hope will garner numerous nominations and armloads of awards. Those accolades not only boost the notoriety of the studios, but usually the critically acclaimed films get a much needed bump in the box office. So it is no wonder that the movie calendar gets incredibly crowded and sometimes a film gets yanked from the slate in order to not find itself dueling with other preening examples of award-bearing cinema. Last year this was the fate of the much anticipated film, The Soloist. Four months later, it sweeps into theaters as the only critical drama in town, looking to round up the reviews in a much quieter time, but it still has to answer the eternal question: Is it any good?
The Soloist is based on a true story (and a subsequent book) about a newspaper reporter named Steve Lopez, who stumbles across a homeless man, Nathaniel Ayers Jr., whose grace and prodigal gift for music inspires Steve to write a series of articles about him and help Nathaniel get back on his feet. Complicating this seemingly simple matter is the painful and paralyzing effects of schizophrenia, which Nathaniel suffers from. Steve finds himself dueling with how far he will engage himself with a subject for the sake of a story and where the line is drawn between objective journalist and compassionate friend.
This contemporary tale of friendship beyond the social mores is the most recent film from Joe Wright, fresh off his nomination for Best Picture in 2008 for Atonement. Known to the American audience more for his Victorian stylings, Wright brings his talent and skill for subtle and intriguing characterizations to modern day Los Angeles. He had well-honed weapons at his disposal with the dynamic duo of Robert Downey Jr. (as the sarcastic and sardonic Lopez) and Jamie Foxx (as the gifted and troubled Ayers). While both gave strong efforts, Downey stole every scene he was in and the movie tended to lag when it drifted away from his character for too long. I’ve seen Foxx do some incredible work before (i.e. Ray), but here he struggles in connecting with the audience, which I think had more to do with the writing and how his character was set up throughout the film. Also, the pair of protagonists didn’t have a physical and real life villain to compete against; instead their battle is against the internal nature of Foxx’s disease and the external nature of society and its treatment of homelessness. Downey comes off as earnest and true, but under all the heavy concepts and conflicts of the film Foxx feels buried and slightly monotone. Not that Downey needed the extra boost on his side, but he shares his storyline with the amazing and lovely Catherine Keener, who plays the ex-wife who can’t help remaining in love with Downey (not to mention seeing him every day since she is his boss at the newspaper). She tenderly supports Downey as he struggles through his journey from social disbeliever back into the world of a connected and responsible citizen.
Beyond the acting, another stumbling point was the various attempts to visualize the effect of music on Foxx’s character. It is truly important to know and understand how music flows through his soul and seemingly calms the numerous voices in his mind, but instead of letting Foxx give us that on screen, we instead receive one scene of two birds soaring through the Los Angeles skyline and another of a painfully long iTunes-esque light show while he listened to Beethoven inside the Walt Disney concert hall. Both choices played incredibly heavy-handed and failed to generate the subconscious connection needed to bring the audience along.
Recommendation: Downey continues his run and shows no sign of falling off his pace, which makes the film imminently worth watching. If they had picked one major story to work with, the schizophrenia or the plight of the homeless, the film would have been much leaner and stronger, but even so, it still shows some strong work from the amazingly competent cast and crew.
Posted 2 years, 8 months ago at 6:07 pm. Add a comment
Who over there keeps requesting songs from “The Wiz”? Seriously, for the last time, that costume was itchy and I’m not doing it.
You know, it’s easier for me to tip you if the case opened the other way.
DandyID
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