"An Inconvenient Truth" is an hour and a half of preaching. That is, it is Al Gore preaching to us about the impending crisis of global warming. Mr. Gore has all the current statistics displayed by all the latest technologies, and he's shown speaking before packed-to-overflowing houses of attentive and empathetic listeners, appealingly designed to emphasize youth and include several minorities. (This is the kind of congregation we would all love to have on Sunday mornings.) There's no hymn singing, though, and no praying, just clear-eyed, somber warnings about the impending disasters, complete with dire predictions of floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, drought, and other natural disasters (see Matthew 24:7).
For the churchgoing Christian, there's plenty to like about "The Da Vinci Code": The whole time, people are talking about the faith. The important places are locales like museums, libraries, and sanctuaries. Knowledge of ancient languages, (Western) history, culture, and art is essential. And it's oh, so literary, even to the point of playing with words, so that the keys to the puzzles lie with being able to figure out the clues within the words. Just delicious.
Ah, but for the churchgoing Christian, there's plenty not to like, as well.
Both films feature, prominently, the country's president--a fit, trim, handsome, well-dressed, well-manicured white man somewhere in his 50's. Both feature terrorist plots against the president. In both, the terrorists themselves are somewhat shadowy foreign figures whose motivations are uncertain, but seem more political than personal. In both, an affair not only undercuts the integrity of the participants, but puts everyone else at risk, as well. One is a deadly serious drama and the other a completely satirical goof, but both have somber, sober, cynical undertones.
"Tsotsi" means "thug" in South African dialect. Tsotsi (Presley Chweneyagae, in a remarkable debut) is a thug, all right, from the slums of Johannesburg. He glares constantly, as if always boiling with rage. He is cruel, violent, and humorless. He surrounds himself with other thugs, and together they go to the central train terminal, where they find their victims. They rob people who are unguarded enough to flash a wad of bills when they are paying for a newspaper. When they return to their slums, they spend their stolen money gambling at dice, and when it runs out, they go steal again. Tsotsi seems to be practically unredeemable. And then something unexpected happens.
Both are about journeys from the cosmopolitan United States to the jungles of another continent. In both, the central characters are nice, trusting, non-violent, and affectionate. In both, the first foray ends in great disappointment, but perseverance pays off when the second attempt succeeds. In both, there is a kind of determined optimism, almost to the point of suspending disbelief. In both, love triumphs, but it's not always romantic love that matters, but the genuine caring that binds one being to another despite their unlikely alliance.
Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a maiden. (Proverbs 30: 18-19)
There's a decided disadvantage to making a movie of a play. It's probably going to look "staged"--lots of conversation, lots of character interaction, plot development through dialogue, but it all feels confined to tight quarters. There are a couple of decided advantages, though, of converting a successful play into a movie: the snappy repartee is already audience-tested, and the ending is going to feel like a finale.
"A Good Woman" is based on Oscar Wilde's 1892 play, "Lady Windermere's Fan." There's a mature kind of jocularity here, as if it's the older folks who are funny, intelligent, and wise, and the younger folks are physically handsome, but tend to be victimized by their own immaturity, ardor, and impulsiveness. But, of course, there's no fool like an old fool, and the young have to be prevented from being impaled by their own principles.
It's 1965. Vietnam was on television, and so was Lyndon Johnson. Martin Luther King Jr. was leading the Civil Rights movement, and racism in America was both subtle and overt, particularly in the Deep South. Bouffant hairdos. Motown sound on the radio. And college basketball was a white man's game.
It's not that there weren't some black players. But the ones who toughed out the taunts from the stands had to endure the unwritten expectations of Division One competition: You can play one black at home, two on the road, and three if you're desperately behind. But a whole team of blacks would be undisciplined, would only be capable of the "playground" game, no teamwork, all "showboating."
Don Haskins was a successful high school girls' basketball coach. Sure, he had dreams of coaching a men's program at the college level, and he was amazed when he was offered the position at Texas Western (now the University of Texas at El Paso). He didn't realize they had no recruiting budget, little talent to work with, and few expectations even of itself. He set out to change all that. He wanted to go recruit some good players. So he scoured the playgrounds, not only in Texas, but also in places like Gary, Indiana, and Harlem. He told those black kids that if they followed his program, they would play. And so a dedicated group of seven black players all accepted scholarships. And Haskins (played capably by Josh Lucas) went about trying to shape them into a team.
It's an old story: aging widow is left with lots of money and little to do. She tries needlework, charity work but finds the other old biddies dreary and tiresome. She definitely doesn't want to be like them. She visits the grave of her only son, who died at 21 years of age on some field in France, fighting the Germans. His headstone is in the middle of a neat, crowded row of other headstones, silent, mocking monuments to the "War to end all wars."
Laura Henderson (Judi Dench) has a car, and driver, furs, an elegant estate, and all of one lady friend. She's sharp-tongued, sharp-witted, and is often construed as rude, selfish, and eccentric. She's also bored to tears. She desperately needs an occupation, and could really use a cause.
One day she happens upon an old, closed-down theater called "The Windmill." It's London, during the Depression. On a whim, she buys it. She then contracts with a local out-of-work but experienced manager, Vivian Van Damm (Bob Hoskins). They like each other because every time they meet, it's a clash of wit and will. It gets the blood pumping for both of them.
Oh, and they hit on a formula that keeps the blood pumping for their patrons. It seems that the Windmill Theater initially enjoyed significant success with the modest innovation of the continuous musical revue. But then, all the other theaters copied them, and they were no longer unique. Sales slumped. Mrs. Henderson quite seriously suggests to Mr. Van Damm that a true innovation would be if their girls were nude. Mr. Van Damm acts shocked, but can't help but be intrigued by the idea. He says the authorities would never allow it. It turns out that Mrs. Henderson knows the particular government administrator, and she wears him down with her bargaining technique, until he finally allows it, but only if the women in question are completely still, like a sculpture in a museum.
The long-term appeal of "King Kong" is the unique dynamic of the Beast being attracted to Beauty, as she brings out his softer, gentler side. In this re-make, the Beast protects her, enjoys a sunset with her, laughs with her, and is even playful with her. But, of course, he's too brutish to survive in this world, because he's too much of a threat to others.
This version of "King Kong" is set in the 1930's, like the original. It's actually three movies of one hour each: the prelude and the voyage, the island, and the return.
It's London, during the Blitz. Frightened by the bombing, mothers (the fathers have gone for soldiers) are putting their children on trains to visit any relative who might live out in the countryside. And so Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter, who look to be about six, ten, fourteen, and sixteen, find themselves in a ramshackle old home out in the country with an overbearing housekeeper, an absent relative, and a lot of spare time on their hands. During a rainy-afternoon game of hide-and-seek, Lucy stumbles into an old wardrobe, and when she tries to hide in the back of it, she finds herself in another land!
