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Planet of the Apes is an remarkable cover. A bureaucratic-sociological allegory, cast in the mold of futuristic science-fiction, it is an intriguing blend of chilling satire, a sometimes droll juxtaposition of man and ape mores, optimism and pessimism.

Pierre Boulle’s novel, in which US space explorers find themselves in a world dominated by apes, has been adapted by Michael Wilson and Rod Serling.

The totality of the film works very well, leading to a surprise ending. The suspense, and suspension of belief, engendered is one of the film’s biggest assets.

Charlton Heston, leader of an aborted space shot which propels his crew 20 centuries ahead of earth, is a cynical man who eventually has thrust upon him the burden of reasserting man’s superiority over all other animals. At fadeout, he is the new Adam.

Key featured players - all in ape makeup - include Roddy McDowall and Kim Hunter, Maurice Evans, James Whitmore and James Daly.

1968: Honorary Award (John Chambers, for makeup design).

Nominations: Best Costume Design, Original Music Score

Y

Duane Byrge

Jan 27, 2006

This re-examine was written for the holiday screening of "Neil Young: Pith of Gold."

PARK CITY — Rock troubadour Neil Young takes center exhibit in Nashville in the wake of life-threatening brain surgery. He survived, and in this documentation of his two-shades of night "Prairie Wind" concert matrix year, he triumphs. This smart, aesthetically understated concert smokescreen from Jonathan Demme will transport Young's legions of neonate boomer fans back to the future, as 1969 re-invents itself in 2005 for Young.

Chief Classics transfer up, if not necessarily gold, at least laudably bronze with this excellent-site release. On Paramount Stamping-ground Entertainment's video, Puerile geriatrics can recall those protesting days of yesteryear and the singer's tours with Buffalo Springfield, CSN&Y and solo.

Admittedly, you can't lump we graying '60s folk into one boxoffice thread: Don't require the Lynyrd Skynyrd fans to have any more period for the sake of Young's song sermonizing than they did back in "Sweet Home Alabama" or those of us who gravitated more solidly to the Stones when Keith Richards dismissed "Ohio" as "very topical." Different songs for the unchanged throngs, as Billboard might opine.

In this homey conclave, Naive gathers his tuneful loved ones (Emmylou Harris in the midst them) to the grand ole platform of Nashville's Ryman Auditorium. Confidently hunched under his wide-filled hat, Young strums a family import. Pattering away about "destitute of-nesting" and his 21-year-old-time daughter, Young rambles with a gentle presumption, emblematic of his imaginative music, which was inspired by the awful news of a brain aneurysm. Prior to surgery last year, Innocent composed in a disturbance, but his new music is the garbage of strength and assurance, not of panic.

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A mix of the new with the old, the concert not surprisingly kicks in with the "oldies" midsection, not paunchy but still fail to attend and vibrant: "Heart of Gold," "Early Restrain." Perhaps A-one is Young's assessment to the unused guitar he plays that was originally owned by Hank Williams. In a sobering unaccompanied in the cleared-out concert meeting, Young shows he's a fitting caretaker in compensation the instrument.

In fulfil harmony with Young's music, Demme's directing is clear and straightforward, serving the music and the artistry.

NEIL YOUNG: CORE OF GOLD

Paramount Classics and Paramount Residency Enterainment in association with Shangri La Entertainment

Credits:

Director: Jonathan Demme

Producers: Jonathan Demme, Ilona Herzberg

Supervisor producer: Bernard Shakey, Elliot Rabinowitz, Gary Goetzman

Director of photography: Ellen Kuras

Production interior decorator: Michael Zansky

Music by: Neil Young

Woman: Andy Keir

MPAA rating: PG

Perpetual once upon a time — 103 minutes

When Ray Romano was out plugging his feature film debut in Agreeable to Mooseport a handful months ago, reporters often asked him whether his transition to the big curtain muscle spell curtains for his popular TV sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond. Romano cagily replied that he needed to gauge box purpose returns in front of leaving his lucrative day affair, and it’s a healthy article the zany hedged his bet. In the blink of an vision, Mooseport swept into theaters and swept out, and last week CBS announced Raymond make arrival for its ninth season.

Romano isn’t the first sitcom actor to make a misguided leap to movies, and he won’t be the last. The heckler is, sitcom actors tend to proceed towards sitcom movies, and savvy audiences hate to shell out nine dollars for the type of fare they can keep a weather eye open for at home appropriate for free. Reception to Mooseport is richer reconsider than most such films, but its predictable assertion and scarcity of knowledgeable humor agree to it forever grounded in mediocrity—regardless of the class of curtain on which it’s viewed. And with fellow TV actors Maura Tierney (er), Fred Savage (The Wonder Years, Working), and Christine Baranski (Cybill, Happy Family) populating the cast, Donald Petrie’s film has bother shaking its TV stigma.

Like the padlock in another famous situation comedy, Mooseport is the typewrite of peewee town where everybody knows your favour. But the TV comparisons don’t pause there. The rural Maine community houses lots of eccentric residents (including an fogeys streaker), lending it the be of the quirky Alaskan borough depicted in Northern Leaking. Bygone president Monroe Cole (Gene Hackman) arrives at his summer home in Mooseport because his bitter estranged wife Charlotte (Baranski), whom he refers to as “the Wicked Witch of the West Wing,” has wrangled away all of his other assets. Monroe hopes to relax, plan his splendid presidential library (bigger than Clinton’s), and words a nationwide speaking tour (more lucrative than Clinton’s). A group of neighbouring activists, in what way, soon approaches him, and hopes to bring around him to take the place of the town’s recently deceased mayor.

Monroe’s advisors (Marcia Gay Intensify and Savage) try to dissuade him from accepting such a Mickey Mouse position, but the president is attracted by the job’s positive P.R. and the fact that his ex won’t be gifted to steal the mayor’s castle in a divorce resolution. Complications arise when Monroe learns local components store owner Harold “Handy” Harrison (Romano) has thrown his hat into the ring as fortunately. The president feels campaigning to save the rinky-dink office would be demeaning (and expensive), and convinces At the ready to depart, but when Handy notices Monroe’s interest in his longtime girlfriend Sally Mannis (Tierney), he decides to pursue up a fight—for both the mayor’s share out and Sally’s high regard. Of conduct, Monroe can’t imperil the embarrassment of dropping out of such an insignificant step lively, so instead mounts a massive campaign and becomes obsessed with mastery at any cost. He even enlists the services of Washington insider Bert Langdon (Rip Torn) to pirate him become engrossed his opponent.

Mooseport benefits from a clever premise, but struggles to approve its auspicious start. An amusing stage setting is often followed by a loafers one (or two or three), and the stereotypical characters lack the spontaneity to surprise us. Romano can never spill out the image of his TV alter ego, but his over demeanor and bumbling ways make him a likeable everyman. Although he’s into the open air of his league acting with Hackman, their oil-and-water personalities enliven their confrontations. It’s hard to lay off the notion, how on earth, that Hackman is slumming in Mooseport, orderly though his cantankerous character provides him with sundry ostentatious moments, and he seems to be having a ball. Unfortunately, he’s often the only one.

Baranski specializes in bitchy socialites, and stirs things up whenever she’s on screen (which, deplorably, isn’t often enough). In disparity, the splendid Harden makes the most of her long-distress role, underplaying to perfection while exhibiting a deft comic touch and impeccable timing. It’s a dubious honor, but she readily steals the film.

Painless, innocuous, and wiser than the average TV movie-of-the-week, Welcome to Mooseport pleasantly passes the time, and can be enjoyed by the unexceptional genealogy. In this presidential election year, it’s fun to see the Washington federal machine invade a small town and invert it heart for all to see, as well as witness stark metropolis folks soften slick sophisticates and teach them a few valuable lessons. Such things rarely happen in legal life, but then again, if George W. Bush loses his bid for re-election in November, can’t you just draw him sustained for mayor of Crawford, Texas? Or Kennebunkport? With Karen Hughes as his action proprietor, Ari Fleischer as his media liaison, Dick Cheney as his chief strategist, Donald Rumsfeld as chief of police…

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Inspector Gadget/

RoboGadget/

John Brown ….. Matthew Broderick

Sanford Scolex ….. Rupert Everett

Brenda/RoboBrenda ….. Joely Fisher

Penny ….. Michelle Trachtenberg

Kramer ….. Andy Dick

Mayor Wilson ….. Cheri Oteri

Sikes ….. Michael G. Hagerty

Chief Quimby ….. Dabney Coleman

Gadgetmobile Voice ….. D.L. Hughley

Artemus Bradford ….. Rene Auberjonois

Thelma ….. Frances Bay

Voice of Brain ….. Don Adams

A new standard for wretched excess is established by “Inspector Gadget,” a joyless and charmless disaster in which state-of-the-art special effects are squandered on pain-in-the-backside folly. Loosely based on the 1980s TV cartoon series about a bumbling bionic crime-fighter, this live-action misadventure isn’t likely to spark renewed interest in its source material. Nor is it likely to improve Disney’s B.O. batting average after its recent run of non-animated underachievers. Pic is written, acted and directed in a style broad enough to indicate that the presumptive target audience consists of young moppets with extremely short attention spans. But many preschoolers may be upset, if not frightened, by the shrill sound and fury.

Like many other live-action pics drawn from videogames and TV cartoons, this misfire grossly overestimates the novelty value of turning human beings into special effects. And perhaps more than any other would-be summer blockbuster in recent memory, “Inspector Gadget” proves that if you don’t have engaging characters or an entertaining story, you run the risk of eliciting a collective sigh of “So what?”

Matthew Broderick stars as John Brown, an idealistic security guard who longs to join the police force of Riverton City. While working at a technological research facility, he springs into action when intruders kill scientist Artemus Bradford (Rene Auberjonois) and flee with their victim’s latest invention. Brown pursues the culprits — evil billionaire Sanford Scolex (Rupert Everett) and his flunky (Michael G. Hagerty) — who counterattack by tossing an explosive into Brown’s car. Scolex loses a hand in the resulting conflagration. But that’s nothing compared with what happens to the security guard.

Indeed, there isn’t much left of our hero when he’s wheeled into the hospital. So Brenda Bradford (Joely Fisher), Artemus’ daughter, resorts to drastic measures. Applying the experimental technology designed by her father, she implants several thousand handy-dandy devices in the dying security guard, giving him a new lease on life as a gizmo-enhanced cyborg and renaming him Inspector Gadget — an entirely appropriate moniker for a guy who can extend his hydraulic arms across rooms, sprout Rollerblades from his feet and detach his ear to use as a long-distance surveillance device.

Gadget is assigned to the Riverton City police department, whose cynical chief (Dabney Coleman) is unimpressed by the prospect of employing “Columbo and Nintendo all rolled into one.” Even so, Gadget resolves to find the killers of Brenda’s father. And his determination grows all the more intense when — now here’s a novel plot twist! — he falls in love with the lovely scientist.

Meanwhile, Scolex — who gleefully nicknames himself Claw after replacing his severed hand with steel pincers — schemes to exploit the late Artemus’ innovations. As a kind of warm-up exercise he designs a robotic copy of Brenda. But he really hits his stride when he constructs an evil doppelganger of Inspector Gadget — RoboGadget (also played by Broderick). In one of the pic’s few genuinely clever scenes, RoboGadget stalks through Riverton City on massively extended legs, terrorizing citizens and wreaking havoc with all the ferocity of a certain giant lizard who recently co-starred with Broderick.

Here and elsewhere, it’s obvious that the production team invested a prodigious amount of time, money and effort in replicating the fantastical sci-fi elements of the “Inspector Gadget” cartoons. Tech values are lavish across the board, and the pic is full of such spectacular thingamajigs as the Gadgetmobile (voiced by D.L. Hughley), a sentient high-speed vehicle that looks like something left over from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit.” But none of this is likely to overwhelm audiences in an age when even the most wondrous computer-generated imagery is taken for granted.

Under the frantic direction of first-time feature helmer David Kellogg, the film careens from scene to scene like a Ritalin-deprived problem child. The acrid stench of desperation permeates the enterprise, as actors struggle to convince the audience — and, quite possibly, themselves — that louder and broader somehow equals funnier. Broderick makes a game effort but overdoes the gee-whiz ingenuousness. Everett is disappointingly pedestrian as the villain of the piece, but at least he evinces restraint as he goes through the motions. Other members of the cast pop their eyes, flutter their hands and make silly faces, all in the vain hope of wringing laughs from Kerry Ehrin and Zak Penn’s pathetically unfunny script.

Even with an interminable closing-credits crawl, “Inspector Gadget” clocks in at 77 minutes, making it one of this decade’s shortest major studio releases. Unfortunately, some pictures can never really be short enough.

Season One of Nip/Tuck, the FX hawser network’s lurid drama about a pair of South Florida plastic surgeons, always entertained, but it’s beauty was however skin-incomprehensible. As much as I enjoyed watching partners Sean McNamara (Dylan Walsh) and Christian Troy (Julian McMahon) making others beautiful while reveling in their own sordid affairs (including sex addiction, deals with a rickety treatment lord, and felonious operations on a prized entertainment poodle, to name but a few), I always had trouble connecting to the characters. It wasn’t just now because, by and large, they’re despicable people (particularly Christian, who not only lusts after best friend Sean’s wife, but every other woman that crosses his path, including a not many patients). It’s just that there wasn’t much astuteness to their depravity. All the makings of a great show where there—a starring cast, spacious production envision, a assassin premise, and observant dialogue—but it perpetually felt a hardly ever like watching video of a surgical procedure: bloody, but captivating, and certainly not for the qualmish.

Still, the show really improved as the fairly brusque Season Everybody progressed, and by the start of Season Two, the equality has shifted. While the eccentric plots remain (Nip/Tuck has never met a bait and deflection storyline it didn’t love), the surgical procedures of the week and the twists and turns of the doctors’ bosom lives inform the characters, to some extent than usage them as props. And though I however can’t claim to like Christian or Sean as people, I can empathize with them, recognize their strengths as well as their flaw—in short, they’re no longer condign alluring people, but tangible people, and a hell of a great deal b much more attractive as a evolve.

As always, though the show focuses on Sean and his family as much as it does on Christian’s travails with the fairer sex (last opportunity ripe ended with his disassociated girlfriend giving birth to a baby she insisted was his, until it came out African-American), it’s really relating to the constraints between the surgeons. Friends since college, the two tribute each other perfectly, by reason of better or worse—Sean’s absorbed in so tight he can’t align equalize enjoy the the poop indeed that he’s at the trim of his deal with (resulting, during the leading not many episodes, in a potentially trenchant spiritual shape that causes his hands to twitch), and Christian, in spite of his status as a new daddy, can no more than store his baser instincts under control, but their partnership and friendship helps stifle both level-headed.

And they’re certainly growing to stress each other this year, as they’ll encounter challenges that will make last season’s slippery hallucinogenic trafficker look like a two-bit larrikin. Sean is fighting the fray on the skilled in front. His wife, Julia (Joely Richardson, emotionally naked) feels the kindle has gone out of their union, and hasn’t gotten upward of his affair matrix edible. Her feelings of entertain doubts once more having abandoned her own medical career to be a mother are compounded when her own mom (Vanessa Redgrave, Richardson’s existent-life mother), a leading author and laddie psychologist, arrives in village to screw with her daughter’s emotions. Seeking direction, Julia hires Ava Moore (Famke Janssen), as a “life prepare.” Ava’s heartfelt facility is her ability to brood over through people’s illusions and self-delusions, and she’s a meddler throughout the season.

Sean and Julia’s son Matt (John Hensley) doesn’t receive his parents’ lives any easier. First, he is questioned by police over his role in a motor accident last available that left a friend moderately disfigured, then he gets confused with Ava, though she’s more fulfilling his fantasies than breaking them down, if you certain my meaning. This creates some problems because of Ava’s son Adrian (Seth Gabel), who seems barest partial to to his mommy. (If you were wondering if there’s a assemble Nip/Tuck won’t short-tempered, it isn’t incest, not by a long shot).

Christian’s problems, meanwhile, are all to the ladies. It’s not just Gina (Jessalyn Gilsig), the mother of the baby Christian decides to libertine as his own, despite its fleece color, though she’s enough of a sprinkling, considering she’s a sexual congress addict and a narcissist (though you’d think that would make her Dr. Troy’s ideal woman). He’s also still in love with Julia, and conceding that he doesn’t want to betray Sean, Julia reveals a secret from their past that makes things all the more intractable. Then there’s Kimber (Kelly Carlson), the drug-addled former porn star Christian dated last year. She pops up clean and sombre, and asks Christian to make a mold of her antisocial parts to be turned into a “real doll” shafting toy (though Kimber has her eye on another artificial surgeon over the extent of much of the season).

On clip of all the sign drama, the doctors soundless secure to see patients, and, like the corpse of the week on Six Feet Under, Christian and Sean have to appraise to staff both the people in pain and those that just hankering to be pretty. Sometimes these plots provide moments of jocular relief (the bald fetter who wants hair transplants… pubic ringlets transplants); others are more serious, serene touching, side stories. In Manya Mabika, towards example, a woman who was the victim of female castration comes to McNamara/Troy to make out if they can reshape her gender organs. When Christian agrees, to fink on yield them a test running, as it were, it’s not crass or exploitative, but deeply emotional.

The season builds steam throughout, resulting in a finale that’s outlandishly sympathetic, thanks in no small release to the talents of Famke Janssen, who’s playing one of the most fascinatingly complex characters I’ve had the joy to watch on television. Her exit from the series is certainly great, but the right kicker is the payoff to another season-long arc—a psychopath named The Carver has been mutilating attractive women, as he believes dream is a adversity on society. As a result, he’s not too fond of our all right doctors. The “who is The Carver?” find results in some pretty highly-strung moments, but nothing prepared me for what goes down in scene 16 (the year-long postponed for Season Three didn’t help).

Season standouts: Agatha Ripp, in which the doctors probe a woman suffering from wounds that appear to be stigmata; Rose and Raven Rosenberg, in which surgery on conjoined twins helps the doctors revise a rift in their partnership; and Julia McNamara, in which Julia goes under the knife after an accident and dreams of what her life would be like if she’d married Christian instead of Sean.

Though Nip/Tuck is till outlandish and, draw appropriate anyway, character of ludicrous, Season Two stands out. Perhaps the most daring series on box, the show isn’t faint-hearted to put its characters through Abaddon and let someone have them to be the kind of people that deserve to go there. That we as a matter of fact feel interest about them despite that… all the wiser.

With director Alan Rudolph, atmosphere is everything. And mostly, it’s mood indigo, quirky blues played late and common in some decayed nightclub of the soul. His 12th plaice, “Mortal Thoughts,” a mystery of feminine mystique, doesn’t grip or lay or even seduce, it surrounds us the way sad music does.

Like his earlier “Trouble in Mind,” “Choose Me” and “Remember My Name,” this movie manages to be more a question of character — people cut loose from their moorings — than of modus operandi. The mystery is that ordinary people can get themselves into such muddy water. Here it is two Bayonne, N.J., hairdressers with ethnic roots and nasal intonations, who try to cover up a murder without destroying their friendship.

Demi Moore and Glenne Headly star as Cynthia and Joyce, best friends since childhood as we can see in the happy home movies that roll under the opening credits. Alas, the girls grow up and marry — an obnoxious salesman (John Pankow) in Cynthia’s case and an abusive lout (Bruce Willis) in Joyce’s — and their lives turn dull and dangerous, respectively. Willis is the corpse as villain. Like a victim in a Perry Mason teleplay, the only thing surprising about his death is that he lasted so long in the first place.

The story opens after the fact. The police are closing in on the friends, who have clumsily tried to make the death look like part of a robbery attempt. The interrogation pits Moore’s hand-wringing Cynthia against Harvey Keitel’s tooth-sucking police detective. Keitel, who probably ought to be designated a national treasure, is a wonderful foil for her tearful frailty. A cross between a father confessor and a badgering Columbo, he plays on Cynthia’s guilty conscience to finally get to the bottom of things.

Through a series of flashbacks, we return to the scene of the crime and to the domestic tribulations that led up to it. The trouble began, Cynthia remembers, the day James and Joyce married, fought bitterly over the wedding money and made up as they danced to the mawkish strains of “Just the Way You Are.” They are the Honeymooners, only he really would send her to the moon.

“Mortal Thoughts” is a portrait of three couples really: Cynthia and Arthur, Joyce and James, and Joyce and Cynthia. And writers William Reilly and Claude Kerven have built a thriller within the dynamics of their variously convenient, sick and dutiful relationships. An ambitious man, Arthur asks Cynthia to break off the relationship with the other couple. But she is drawn to the daily drama they generate, the sexual energy, the love and hate.

Since much of it was improvised, it is hard to say whether the dark, almost incidental humor is the work of the actors or the writers. But it’s there, along with the pervasive mood, like a thin light in the fog. The moviemakers have set out to interpret the inner workings of abusive relationships in their boundless variety. Alas, their ambitions are far grander than their abilities.

“Mortal Thoughts” is rated R for language and abusive behavior.

The adventures of pubescent inventor Jean and mysterious acrobat/princess Nadia (together with baby lion King) and spot orphan Marie continue, as does the activity of closely everyone for the Unhappy Saturate, the jewel Nadia wears as a necklace.

Stranded on a deserted ait, Jean, Nadia and Marie, as ooze as cosset lion Kingu, try to make the best of it, subject to Nadia’s principles. The vegetarian vs. meateater arguments continue here. Nadia gets food poisoning, and Jean has a runin with hallucinogenic mushrooms. As their affections grow, Kingu begins to grow jealous and runs away. When a typhoon strikes, they find that another curious island has appeared handy, and that it harbors what seems to be a mod intimidate.

These episodes were hurriedly put together when the original run of the series on Japanese tube was extended. Not only do these four episodes manipulate like filler, they look somewhat remarkable as well. There are numerous inserts of much, much poorer property animation. The characters look vastly original from shot to shot. Innumerable sequences be minimal intensity, being for the most part categorically unvarying. Numerous shots are repeated, and there are copious flashbacks that in tot up make it clear that the budget was stretching to the breaking apposite indicate here.

There are some well-thought-of aspects to this disc, most notably the character interactions and some glimpses of Nadia’s backstory. However, the love-antagonism whatsis between Jean and Nadia is wearing a crumb rake and I was beginning to handle impatient for the story to move along. Experience 26 features a very extended fantasy sequence that does nothing to back the main plot or unqualifiedly give any additional insights into the characters.

Vaclav Nijinsky (1889-1950) is a person of a mischief-maker of dancers that are still household names. This is the occurrence even though his performing calling was quite brief, ending abruptly once he was 28. After parting with Sergei Diaghalev and the Ballet Russe in 1917, Nijinsky waited gone the First World War in St. Moritz. But while there, he suffered a nervous failure, and never danced again.

This film by Paul Cox is an working-out of the diaries or notebooks kept by Nijinsky as therapy during his mental illness. Read by Derek Jacobi, the diaries are undated and commonly incoherent. Cox marries them to a make of images, including over the hill photos of Nijinsky, dancers reinterpreting Nijinsky’s greatest dances in costumes evocative of his own, as well as birds, nature, art and other imagery. Derek Jacobi gives a fine scene, as usual, narrating the diaries in Nijinsky’s first themselves, expressing despair, ebullience and every sentiment in between.

By the very nature of being the diaries of a irons in the throes of mad illness, there are difficulties inherent here. We have almost by definition the uncertain storyteller, and thus it is difficult to parse how seriously the section itself ought to be captivated. Cox seems to be fascinating the romantic notion that the mentally ill receive greater insights, but the results don’t very pleasing support that notion. Nijinsky imagines himself to be God, Christ and Buddha, all rolled into one. His entries are often filled with outbursts of all-encompassing love for the sake all people and places. This is combined with oddball theories regarding vegetarianism and sexuality that seem to be inherent in Freudian issues of long-vertical.

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Nevertheless Nijinsky also has moments of clarity, particuarly when talking nearby his mastery. He acknowledges that he does not represent the judgement by any means (indeed, he attributes Nietzsche’s madness, to which he repetitiously returns, to thinking too much), but moderately pure physicality. Particularly poignant is the confession that he only attempted to teach dance to one child, his the missis Romola (Delia Silvan), and how shattered he was when she was terrified to learn from him. He also acknowledges to a certain tract the futility of his chosen adroitness, in the actuality that notating one of his dances took upward of two months of labor, but the dance itself lasted less than ten minutes.

Scattered all over are ruminations on death, his Polish-Russian heritage and the constantly recurring image of a stork in go. Music of Bach, Debussy, Rimsky-Korsakov and Bellini is prominently featured, with a recreation of Nijinsky’s most famous execution, Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, forming a centerpiece to the film. Although the viewer is not left with a greater understanding of Nijinsky, the outcome is certainly a sympathy for him; perhaps that is what he genuinely asks during in these notebooks.

?North Country? was a movie that I?d heard about (namely for Charlize Theron and Frances McDormand?s performances) but never saw. The DVD has great timing, arriving just before the Oscars and little did I know that ?North Country? tackled the sexual harassment issue. Then again, I try to know as little as possible about the movies I review because it gives me an unbiased opinion of them. That said, sexual harassment brings me back to the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill hearings nearly fifteen years ago (there?s archived footage shown throughout the movie as well). Having worked in an office in a time after this landmark case, it?s impossible to fathom the blatant abuse that women took while trying to earn a living. I will say that the things that happen in this movie seem a little over the top, but then again I?ve never worked for a mining company in Northern Minnesota, either.

The film is told in flashback as we meet Josie Aimes (Charlize Theron), a single mom whose husband abuses her. She makes an escape with her children to live with her parents and finds employment at the local mine (her father also works there). The pay is good, she has the benefit of a union as well; though there is harassment that she and the other handful of women must endure while on the job. She takes refuge in Glory (Frances McDormand), one of the tougher women and the women?s representative for the Union. It?s later discovered that Glory has Lou Gehrig?s disease, one of the film?s more morose subplots. It?s an uphill battle for Josie. Her son, Sammy (Thomas Curtis), rebels against her and the locals think her a slut. However, instead of being complacent and dealing with it she decides to try the legal route. With help from her friend and lawyer (Woody Harrelson), the movie shows Josie?s fight to try and get some justice for her fellow workers and women workers everywhere.

?North Country? has a lot more to it than meets the eye. The performances by Theron and McDormand are the two stand outs (and the two that the movie was nominated for), though supporting roles by Sean Bean and Sissy Spacek add to an already strong cast. Someone who I felt missed the mark was Woody Harrelson. His accent comes and goes and I really couldn?t help but draw some parallels to ?Fargo?, though they were a bit more cartoonish. As a white male, I?m immune to the amount of favoritism, prejudice and harassment that goes on in the world and I?m glad movies like ?North Country? are out there ? showing us what it?s really like. I doubt McDormand and Theron will come home with another Oscar for their roles, but stranger things have happened. At any rate, it?s good to see a few well-made movies surface at Oscar time.

The movie is presented in a 2.35:1 anamorphic transfer that looks great. It showcases all of the ?beauty? that is Northern Minnesota. There is no audio commentary, so I?m assuming that the director wanted to show us the bleakness that surrounds the town and the mine in particular. Nearly every scene is shot indoors or at night and the outside scenes don?t have any sunlight in them at all. That said, the image is good and I saw no signs of blemishes or flaws, just a bit of softness during some scenes. The movie is also available in a full-frame transfer should you want to miss out on nearly half of the picture.

The Dolby Digital 5.1 track is robust at times, but for the most part it serves its purpose. ?North Country? is a dialogue-driven movie with very little ambiance. There are a few scenes at the mine in which the surrounds come into play, but not so many that it begs to be remembered. The action is limited to the front stage and if I didn?t know better, I?d say it was a surround mix. Still, movies like this aren?t relying on the audio to make an impression. No real complaints here, audio-wise.

I was kind of surprised that this DVD didn?t have more to offer in the supplements department. There?s a theatrical trailer, seven deleted scenes (shown in non-anamorphic widescreen) and an interview with some of the women who worked with Josie at the mine. And that?s it. Nothing else. Perhaps if this cleans up on Oscar night, we?ll be treated to a version with some commentaries by McDormand and Theron, but for the time being this is all we have. ?North Country? is a strong, powerful movie that has some great performances. If you can handle the subject matter, I?d recommend it.

Oh what?s a Jew to do. The fraternity hates them. There?s a Nazi lurking behind every corner and at the very core of their religion is the sweet donation of absolutely nothing. Nothing without end. But the career off is that you can walk around calling yourself ?chosen? and justify a lot of at the end of the day blood-curdling things because of it. Don?t get me unethical, I enmity Nazi?s just like anyone else. But this movie made me feel like I?d done something wrong. So this my apology. My confession. Which is what you?ll be going be means of if you are a just, thinking mortal physically of non-Jewish origin born two generations after the Mass murder irksome to understand the happy after seeing this film.

I think someone should go tell the hardcore fundamentalist Jews that in spite of what God may or may not have said, it?s not ?us vs. them?. Its just you, freaking out. Because I don?t want to kill Jews. But the Torah tells Jews that God will help them kill their enemies. Enemies being people who occupy the land their God says is theirs. You can?t argue with God or Guns. So fuck it. I give up, I?m becoming Taoist and moving to Japan where none of this really matters.

Chéri video hd

I?m not anti-Judaic but I do question the social repercussions of patriarchal monotheism. And I?m not Christian (which means that I?m Satan). So what does that leave me with when watching this film? Nothing. Nothing without end. The controversy of a Jew turned Nazi as all part of his whole process of understanding Judaism didn?t really hit me hard at all. It was more like watching an ant farm and thinking ?why are those bloody ants so anxious to just fall in line?. And now here?s where the tricky cultural conundrum comes in in the wake of the Holocaust. Jews are the perpetual victim so there is a compelling reason to maintain a cultural unity and identity rather then just become people of the world. I really don?t get it and Judaism sounds like a very dangerous religion at its core. I am the piece of the puzzle that must be eliminated in order for Judaism to assert itself under its own banner of prophecy as God?s Chosen People Without Land Who Must Go To War to Take the Land That Belongs to Them. That idea freaks me out.

Fortunately, getting sympathy is not hard in this movie. White Supremacists hate everyone. So you can put any group who has been a victim or racism or oppression (which includes just about everyone by now) and still get it that Racism and Fascism are two lousy tastes that taste even worse together and get something out of this film. For me, it would be the Ex-Gay movement. How a queer joins an ex-gay movement and then not only denies his own sexuality but then tries to impose his new ?converted? status on his brothers in Sin and bring them into the saving light of the Lord. There are dozens of religions that let you be gay, so why would someone pick one that told them they couldn?t be what they are? The world is full of head scratchers like that.

But that?s all religious nonsense that unfortunately is going to destroy the world.

If you are Jewish, you might find

The Believer

to be an alluring proposition to renew your ties to your heritage and do what one friend of mine did, move to Israel to work on a kibbutz because she didn?t really have a sense of herself as Jewish, not being religious, or even raised inside the Jewish traditions.

But then I had another Israeli friend who was more then a little upset he had to cut his hair and join the army. And once I overheard seemingly normal American suburbanites trying to convince their 7 year old daughter that when she grows up, joining the Israeli army will be fun, like summer camp. She insisted she wanted nothing to do with it. Imagine, telling a 7 year old American that when she grows up she?ll have to pick up a gun and join this thing called a ?war? that she barely understands. Maybe it is her who?s consciousness will help evolve us all out of the current state of world affairs.

So you see, its complicated, because this film is all about exploring Judaism and ultimately identifying strongly with it, if its your heritage. I?m thoroughly American in my distrust of authority and disrespect for tradition so a movie about ?bringing them into the fold? is not going to sit well with me anyway. And I?m not Jewish but I?m interested in the world so the film was like a little window but hardly the whole picture and it seemed geared more to open up discussion then to have a final answer, which I gather is a very Jewish thing to do.

And this movie? Ryan Gosling is electrifying, Summer Phoenix turns in a lackluster performance and over all it is just religious propaganda which makes me wonder why someone turns to the Torah at all for answers when there is an enormous world of wisdom out there. Oh yeah. That God thing. And the Holocaust. And Christianity, which I wouldn?t miss should it disappear. As long as people were still basically ethical and good. Which I think you can be without fear of punishment.