There's also Narnia's Prince Caspian, The Incredible Hulk with Edward Norton (Edward Norton?), another Hellboy, another Batman, another Mummy, and an animated Star Wars - The Clone Wars.
Plus TV shows brought to the screen Sex and the City, and Get Smart.
Chat starts at 10:45 and the call-in number is (646) 652-2639. Join us!
Yes, it's Carnival Monday, but before the Carnival here are 10 reasons to love Iron Man:
1. The Taliban are the bad guys. 2. They're out in Afghanistan. 3. The military are dedicated, reliable, and trustworthy. Iron Man's best friend is in the Service. 4. The soundtrack's perfect. 5. You really believe Iron Man can fly. 6. There's a lot of humor thrown in, from Robert Downey Jr.'s testing of Iron Man gear to Stan Lee impersonating Hugh Heffner. 7. The Dude grew up, shaved his head, and became the bad guy. 8. The CEO is the superhero. 9. The superhero is an engineer. And engineering's fun and exciting. and most important of all, 10. Robert Downey Jr. rocks! He's looking better than ever, he's in great shape, looks wonderful and gives Tony Stark just the right edge to be believable and fun at the same time.
He's hot.
I particularly liked the scenes where a Vulcan-like Stark forges his armor while imprisoned: Not Vulcan, but Vulcan,
The Roman god of fire, especially destructive fire, and craftsmanship.
That Vulcan.
Go see it - and see it in a theater-sized big screen.
It's rated PG-13 for violence (including a torture scene), a sex situation, and some language.
TCM was playing Captain Kidd and it's been a while since I did an old movie post so I thought I'd look the Captain on the Internet Movie Database and post on it.
I was reading the IMDB information when suddenly I read a sponsor link that filled me with dread: Wanted: Movie Extras in Princeton.
I've lived in Princeton since 1989 and during that time two movies have been filmed on location here in town: the dreadful IQ and the very good A Beautiful Mind. (No, House isn't.)
Both movies had open casting calls in town.
I didn't go to the IQ casting call since I'm not interested in becoming an extra, but it was held at the Westminster Conservatory. That was memeorable because the day of the casting call I didn't know that's what was happening and ended up spending a long time stuck in traffic gridlock less than a mile away from my own house.
After the movie started filming on locations all in or near Princeton traffic was backed up for days to no end. It didn't matter where I had to go, IQ was there to tie up traffic, or so it seemed.
Streets were blocked, traffic was detoured all over the place - sometimes without directing us which way to get back to where we wanted - and one time I ended up having to stop and change the baby on someone's lawn because traffic was stuck and the baby needed changing.
It was a disaster.
A friend insisted that I go with her to the casting call for A Beautiful Mind, which was on the Princeton University campus at McCosh Hall. We went on a very cold day, and traffic was backed up, of course. Hundreds of people were standing in line in the cold. Fortunately by the time we got there the line was moving and we went in right away.
The gentleman who was in charge of the casting that day (and whose name doesn't show in the IMDB credits) had the uncanny ability of picking out of a large crowd people who are the same types.
Much to my surprise, I ended up on the podium with five other women. We looked more alike to each other than what my sister and I look alike: same height (give or take two inches), same coloring, same build, probably the same age (give or take five years), and even the same type of clothing (and shoes!).
One of the ladies and I were wearing glasses and we had the same taste in eyeglass frames, too. All of us wore variations of the same hairstyle.
Anyone who harbors any fantasies about their own uniqueness should go stand on a casting call stage for five or ten minutes with five other strangers who not only look like you but even dress like you.
A week or so later I did get called for a job as an extra but turned them down.
By then I was fully prepared for any traffic delays that might come from the Beautiful Mind filming around town. Surprisingly, they managed to film everything on and around campus without having to block any streets. One time I was waiting for a traffic light in the Borough and watched the real-life John Nash cross the street from where Russel Crowe was playing the fictional John Nash. That was the longest I had to wait in traffic because of their filming on location.
But back to this morning's ad on the IMDB, I breathed easy when I saw that it was just an ad.
Via Noel Sheppard at Newsbusters, Harrison Ford thinks that having his chest hair waxed is a metaphor for the environment. Or something.
Really: he had his chest hair removed, and now he's Access Hollywood's green star of the week
In an effort to showcase the pain involved in deforestation, Harrison willingly subject himself to the painful process of stripping his chest of all its follicles.
Having worked with CI for 15 years, it was Harrison's hope that his trip to the salon might just shock people into thinking "green."
Like Noel, this is what I think about instead,
And now for a word of advice to the guys: Chest waxing is a fad, and the reason it's being promoted is that we are obsessing in a culture of eternal youth and unmanly men.
If you have chest hair, ANY woman you are after who does not like men with chest hair is probably the wrong woman for you. Think about it, can you possibly live for any length of time with anyone who is not going to be interested in sex unless you go to the waxing salon every four weeks (or more often if necessary)? If that's the kind of demands she's going to make from the start, what else are you going to have to put up with? Do you really want someone who is that high maintenance?
And look at Harrison: Doesn't he look like he's wearing a hair bra?
Does anyone really believe this can possibly save the environment?
A stunt driver has crashed the car used by movie secret agent James Bond into Italy's Lake Garda during filming of 007's latest movie, Quantum of Solace.
The driver was delivering the iconic Aston Martin DBS to the film scene in heavy rain when he lost control around one of the lake's narrow curves.
Ben Stein's new documentary "Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed" is a riveting expose of the intolerant academic community that systematically declares war on anyone or any institution [i.e. Seattle's Discovery Institute] that dares to question liberal Darwinian orthodoxy. "Correct speak" and "correct think" are de rigueur among scholars, who are expected to toe the line that "evolution" and "natural selection" are the be all and end all when it comes to deciphering the origins of mankind.
The subject of the movie is freedom of inquiry in science. In our conversation, we talked about that, but also about morality, and, as Siggy put it,
"If we don't have the freedom to discuss, if we don't have the freedom to debate, if we have our morals and ethics taken from us in this debate, then I think we're much closer to the precipice"
To which Mark stated,
"At the core of what Expelled is trying to do is to provoke a discussion about important ideas such as the sufficiency of Darwinism, the exclusion of intelligent design, the implications of social darwinism, and, look, let's have a conversation about the culture and I think that we'll be better served... the more civil we can keep it.
It's a quiet Sunday afternoon and the rest of the family is otherwise occupied, it's cloudy, and Shine A Light is playing downtown.
What best way to get away from blogging about politics and news?
So I put on some red shoes (not these, but a different pair - a woman can never have enough red shoes), drive downtown and lo and behold, there is a parking space exactly in front of the movie theater.
Encouraged, actually cheered, by this fortuitous event, I buy myself a ticket, and walk in. Take a look around, and stop dead in my heels:
I am the youngest person in the audience.
By now it's starting to feel like something out of Candid Camera, another diversion from the olden days.
The movie starts with Martin Scorsese discussing what/how was going to be played and filmed. Little did I know that the concert being filmed actually was a fundraiser for the Clinton Foundation.
Dang. Was part of the ticket price going towards the Clintons? What does a woman have to do in this town to get away from politics?!
So the movie goes: Bill, Hillary and Hillary's mom (Chelsea's obviously too young for the Stones) all were there. Bill aw-chucked his way in front of the audience for what felt like hours. At this point I was starting to click the heels of my red shoes and mutter "there's no place like home". Fortunately Bill was done before the third "there's no place..." and the concert started.
The first song (Jumpin' Jack Flash) sounded a little off tempo, but it didn't take long for the old lads to regain their stride.
Peppered throughout the film you'll find brief interview clips of Mick, Charlie and Keith in their fresh-faced tweed and Oxford shirt days, their lipstick and eye shadow days, their Super Fly shearling vest days, and then also clips of Ron Wood in more recent days.
Brian Jones's death is not mentioned at all. Bill Wyman is not mentioned.
The movie was filmed on location at the Beacon Theater in New York, and the film is almost-totally a happy concert movie, unlike the much more appalling Gimme Shelter of 1970, where a member of the audience was murdered. It is a sign of the times that The Rolling Stones have become respectable and safe enough for politicians to use them for fundraisers.
Scorcese fans should also be warned that this is not his much more superior film The Last Waltz.
A few observations: Those of us who wonder how Keith Richards is still alive will continue to wonder, as there were times during the concert when he looked like he was about to drop off permanently.
The movie theater was not an Imax theater but their stereo system had good enough bass that the cupholders vibrated frequently. The (old) gentleman sitting next to me actually picked up his phone (which he had placed in one of the cupholders) thinking it was a call.
Mick is still bouncy. Little did Mrs Jagger know her bouncing baby boy would remain so for seven decades.
Charlie Watts had to be/may still be the least stoned of the Stones, as he has to keep the tempo.
Buddy Guy was the most electrifying performer of the concert. He stole the song Champagne and Reefer right out from under Mick.
The Stones' visage is best described as gargoylesque, but only if you're being kind. When you burn the candle at both ends, it shows.
Bassist Darryl Jones is the unsung hero of the band, as his name is only mentioned once. I get the impression that, in addition to the music, at times he's also in charge of keeping Keith Richards focused.
Keith's arms show the ravages of severe drug use.
Ron Wood's best moment as a regular guy: greeting Hillary's mom.
Mick probably weighs 130 lbs. He has a dental bridge.
The camera men, cinematographers, and the film and sound editors should get Oscars for their seamless work.
Forty-three years, and millions of dollars, records sold, and miles travelled later and Mick still can get no satisfaction. Makes you chuckle just to think of it.
The film is dedicated to Ahmet Ertegun, who, according to Variety, at 83, took a bad fall at the recorded concert and died shortly thereafter.
Maybe John McCain should hire Scorcese to film a David Gilmour concert.
The first song I learned in English which was not a school song, As Tears Go By, made me realize how much water under the bridge had passed since I was in school in Puerto Rico, Mick was regarded as an obnoxious brat by the establishment, and how much our hopes and dreams remain the same over time. Prior Shine A Light, it had been decades since I last heard him sing it. It was a "were we ever that young?" moment. Here's a YouTube, from Mick's tweed and Oxford shirt days (1965) along with a nearly-unrecognizable Keith Richards:
It's that magical time of the year again, when tyrants make a show of "democracy" to the world at large. Today's turn: Robert Mugabe Vote count under way in Zimbabwe
Vote counting is under way in Zimbabwe, with the main opposition MDC claiming it is winning the battle to oust President Robert Mugabe.
The MDC said it was ahead in most constituencies but continues to fear the vote will be rigged.
Results may not be finalised for some days and the government warned the MDC not to declare an early victory.
Forgive me if I sound cynical, but what are the chances of anyone defeating a megalomaniacal murderous thug through an election?
The BBC is also not helping: Look how they make it sound as if it was Mugabe who was battling the odds, instead of the other way around:
Mr Mugabe is battling the MDC's Morgan Tsvangirai and independent Simba Makoni for president.
Nowadays fashionable tyrants win by 75% of the vote. It's only the old-style, crassly out of fashion tyrants like the Chinese Communist Party who still win by 98%.
The modern fashionable tyrant soothes what passes for conscience at the UN by holding an election, calling in international observers (a dozen observers to stay at carefully-selected, scrupulously-guarded locations in countries at least as large as California, because you know that a dozen people staying for a day or two really can get a good idea of what's going on in a country) IF they decide to call observers in the first place, making a show of the polling process, and then winning with a 3:1 margin over the opposition. If they really want to make a point, then they win 4:1.
Then Jimmy Carter flies back to Georgia to celebrate Rosalyn's birthday, the UN goes back to condemning Israel, and we all tune in to E! for the latest in celebrity gossip.
This morning's old movie at TCM is Boom Town, about oil wildcatters. In spite of a burning oil rig, it has absolutely nothing in common with There Will Be Blood, especially when it showcases Clark Gable's impeccably attired profile holding the impossibly glamorous Claudette Colbert or Heddy Lammar in his arms.
They don't make them the way the used to, and I'd like to know who would wear a sequined negligee outside of a Hollywood movie.
Say first, for Heav'n hides nothing from thy view Nor the deep Tract of Hell, say first what cause Mov'd our Grand Parents in that happy State, Favour'd of Heav'n so highly, to fall off [ 30 ] From thir Creator, and transgress his Will For one restraint, Lords of the World besides?
I'm putting together next Monday's Carnival of Latin America of the Caribbean while the TV's playing Solaris with George Clooney.
He looks more than Pretty Darned Good, he actually looks gorgeous (but not like the Gorgeous George). Normally I'm not much of a Clooney fan but this is downright distracting. Needless to say, I'm not getting much done, but here's the link to the DVD.
Don't expect the plot to make much sense. Just keep an eye on Clooney and everything will be just right.
(For those of you wondering what am I doing indoors, thank you for your concern. I went out already for several hours.)
Get a hold of some Kleenex and watch a beautiful scene from Truly, Madly, Deeply. I've only been able to watch TMD once; it elicits so much sorrow I can't take it in its entirety.
Here's another tearjerker scene, from The English Patient, "Every night I cut out my heart"...
Three really good movies playing in theaters right now
As readers of this blog know, I've asking for quite a while "what happened to the 1 1/2 hour movie?"
Well, the 1 1/2 hour movie is alive and well and playing at a theather near you. In the last couple of weeks I've enjoyed three excellent movies, which are entirely different from each other: Persepolis, The Band's Visit, and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day.
Persepolis is an animated moview entirely in black and white (very little grey) except for a few select scenes that take place outside Iran. It is based on the real-life memoirs of Marjane Satrapi which she had published in the graphic novel of the same title.
Persepolis is entirely in French with English subtitles and I'm glad they didn't dub it, since real-life mother and daughter team Chiara Mastroiani and Catherine Denueve do the voices of Marjaname and her mother. This is an intensely personal story and having their casting adds another layer to the film.
Anyone harboring any illussions that the Iranian regime respects women's rights would be well advised to stay away or risk losing that comfortable fantasy forever. Persepolis shows how the Ayatollahs killed all Communists upon reaching power, how young people perish for engaging in the most normal tasks, and how a woman's spirit can only survive by going into exile.
Persepolis is intense, heartbreaking, and possibly the best animated film I've seen.
The Band's Visit tell the story of the Alexandria Ceremonial Police Orchestra's first twenty-four hours in Israel after getting off the airport and taking a bus to the wrong town.
Unfortunately for them, they arrive at a small town where not much is happening, they are low on funds, and there's no place to stay. They are scheduled to play at the opening of an Arab arts center and have no way to get to get there. This Arab arts center in Israel adds subtext to the story (particularly since one has to wonder, is there a Jewish arts center anywhere in the Arab world), without weighing down the film.
Luckily, the very beautiful Dina (played by Ronit Elkabetz) serves them a nice lunch at her cafe and arranges for some shelter for the night. The dynamic between Dina and Tawfik (played by Sasson Gabai) is the most interesting part of the plot but you don't need to wait for them to show up; indeed, the most moving scene may be when the clarinet player is talking to the young father in the father's bedroom.
I won't go into details of the rest of the band's adventure but this is a really good film about people who may be just like other people you know but who are never ordinary. The actors are perfect, and the movie is funny, endearing, and moving, sometimes all at once.
In Arabic, Hebrew, and heavily accented English, with subtitles in American.
I'm not all that fond of chick flicks and have been known to really enjoy the Terminators, the Gladiator and 300, but I finally found a chick flick I absolutely adore: Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day. Even the tag line, "Every Woman Will Have Her Day" screams "Chick flick!" at you, so there's an element of farce that the producers didn't want to hide.
This is a Cinderella story, only that Cinderella is also Fairy Godmother, too.
Here's what to love: Deep-voiced Brits wearing black tie: Ciaran Hinds, Mark Strong. Trust me, you're going to love Ciaran Hinds. Americans doing a good job: Frances McDormand, Amy Adams and Lee Pace Fun plot. Good message, not heavy handed: Find the one who loves you for who you are, not the one who loves you for what you want them to think you are. Great decor: Art Deco, with many flourishes that would be appropriate for the nightclub crowd Beautiful 1930s style clothing. 1930s music, including big-band numbers and a duo. Authentic London locations. Classic cars.
Miss Pettigrew will put a smile on your face. Go see it.
For about a week my main bit of conversation fodder was me, at some point, telling the person I’m talking to that I saw There Will Be Blood. I did this because I had really unique feelings about this movie, which I really wanted to communicate. My main problem was that I could not seem to nail my feelings about the movie until very recently, feelings which I intend to explain here.
There Will Be Blood is a one of a handful of movies I've seen which I could not easily decide if I thought it was good or bad. This is proof positive that the movie is unique, which it most definitely is. It is one of the most unique movies I’ve ever seen. However, the question is not if the movie is unique, the question is whether or not the movie should be recommended, which is the tricky part.
The movie has a plot which is easy enough to appreciate. Daniel Day-Lewis (Gangs of New York, The Last of the Mohicans) stars as Daniel Plainview, a man who starts out prospecting for silver, moving on to oil after he is finds silver while digging, though wounded in the process. Enter the Sunday family, a poor family of goat farmers whose rocky land grows nothing but weeds. Paul, one of two Sunday brothers, comes to Plainview, telling him that he has discovered oil on his family's ranch and is willing to sell it to him. Plainview's corruption (the real star) consequently progresses from mild, when he receives the land and starts building on it, to moderate, when he discovers that, in his own words, "there's a whole ocean of oil under our feet! And no one can get at it except for me," forgoing a couple important safety precautions in pursuit of this oil, and finally severe, when he descends into a pattern of violent, erratic alcoholism.
With this out of the way, the good parts of the movie will be granted the attention they deserve. The movie was written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson (Boogie Nights, Hard Eight) and this movie is his magnum opus. Hell, it's everyone's magnum opus. The cinematographer, the production designer, I'd even say it's the Best Boy's magnum opus, if I had a really clear idea as to what a best boy actually is. Every scene is constructed beautifully, created with a level of careful precision I last remember seeing in 2001: A Space Odyssey. The acting is the best part of this movie, though. Daniel Day-Lewis shines in this moving study of corruption (passion?) and what it does to people. Paul Dano should get a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his performances as Paul and Eli Sunday (Eli is a healer who is Plainview's morally ambiguous "antagonist," if such a thing exists in this movie), and works with Day-Lewis on screen perfectly. The kid who plays Plainview's son deserves an honorable mention, and does so much with the little he is given (very little dialogue, not present for several scenes). The weakest thing about this movie was the music, which was still quite good, but was nothing if not bizarre in parts (after select plot points, a sound plays that is very similar to the noise that informs the audience that their movie is being shown in Dolby THX surround sound), but I guess it's to be expected if Johnny Greenwood (the guy from Radiohead) is doing the soundtrack. The movie will be a heavy contender for the Oscars, and will be so deserving of the awards.
There is, however, an extremely prominent caveat which cannot be overlooked. Conversations with a few friends and neighbors have confirmed to me that No Country for Old Men is by no means for everyone. Some of the people I have spoken to have said that it was anything from boring, to pretentious, to nauseating. I thought No Country was phenomenal, fast paced and ended on a note which gave me a lot to think about. There Will Be Blood is another modern western, but not in the way that No Country is. To the people who thought it was too slow: There Will Be Blood makes No Country for Old Men look like Transformers. For all its splendor, I think the movie could have stood to be about a half-hour shorter, shaving off a few of the insanely huge landscape shots, huge both in size and duration. This movie is laden with far more meaning than No Country for Old Men, since the latter had a more clearly defined "good" and "bad" guy, and also had huge landscape shots (fun fact: the two movies were shot, in part anyway, in the same place at about the same time). The impact of the desolate environment is carried more succinctly in No Country, though it's laden with more meaning in There Will Be Blood, where (I highly doubt this is a spoiler, since it's repeatedly emphasized both in press about the movie and in the movie itself) the harsh, desolate landscape serves as a metaphor for the condition of Plainview's soul. Also, very importantly: contrary to the movie's title, there is very little blood, even in the parts where there one would think there would be blood, e.g. when a piece of improperly secured heavy equipment falls on a worker's head, killing him instantly. The title actually comes from Exodus 7:19, so IMDb tells me ("there will be blood throughout the whole land of Egypt, even in vessels of wood and in vessels of stone"). The issue is, in short, that when (not if) this movie sweeps the Oscars, it will singlehandedly justify the opinions of everybody who thinks that Oscars are give to pretentious, artsy films with little to no entertainment value. If you want a fun, plot-driven movie you can take a first date to, stay away at all costs. She will probably leave you and never speak to you again for any reason whatsoever. If, however if you want a) a fascinating character study with lots of stunning photography and/or b) an $8 nap, go ahead and see it, you won't regret it.
As an aside, during a discussion about the movie, I remembered something of note. Mark Twain defined a classic as a book everyone praises but nobody actually reads. This movie will probably join the ranks of movies like The Rules of the Game and Bicycle Thieves as such a movie, something which, in my mind, is truly a crying shame.
Doctors are calling for NHS treatment to be withheld from patients who are too old or who lead unhealthy lives. ... Smokers, heavy drinkers, the obese and the elderly should be barred from receiving some operations, according to doctors, with most saying the health service cannot afford to provide free care to everyone.
Fertility treatment and "social" abortions are also on the list of procedures that many doctors say should not be funded by the state.
I wonder what the American abortion-on-demand crowd would say to that.
But don't expect the British hospital doctors to want to look after you when you are old and ailing:
One in three said that elderly patients should not be given free treatment if it were unlikely to do them good for long. Half thought that smokers should be denied a heart bypass, while a quarter believed that the obese should be denied hip replacements.
Those unwilling to trust that there is meaning to universe can still hope there will be beds available at the NHS or compassion in the heart of a bureaucrat.
Do we tell the poor who tend to have more physical illnesses than more wealthy folk "Sorry, your poor choices of food, tobacco, alcohol, fill in the blank have made treatment for you impossible?"
Do we tell the elderly that "Sorry, your age makes you a poor candidate for open heart surgery?"
Do we empty the nursing homes because some of those patients won't ever get better?
Do we pull a Terri Schiavo on our handicapped because afterall, most handicapps are life long?
The fact of the matter is, that eventually choices must be made because as one commenter at Tom Smith's article noted it is either on the front end with insurance or on the back end with national health care. And, despite the Democrat pie in the sky dreaming, we cannot possibly provide all health care to all people in the country at any reasonable cost.
Another thing that those who praise the "free Cuban health care system" don't want you to know is that the medics regularly have to come to your house and go through your personal effects searching for evidence of your personal habits, such as the drugs you take, whether you smoke, and what you drink. How many Americans would be willing to even contemplate the thought of having a government employee violate their privacy for the sake of "free" health care?
But what about France, you ask? On March 18, 2006 I posted a list of links from the BBC on how the French health care system fails its patients. (you might have to go to the March 2006 archive and scroll down).
Instead of one hot, recognizable style, retailers this spring will be pushing a variety of styles and brands, many of them lesser-known. Intermix, a high-end New York-based retail chain, is making a big push for handbags from labels such as Zagliani and Lanvin. Scoop is stressing Jamin Puech, Whiting & Davis and other relatively unknown, expensive brands. For spring, Henri Bendel is picking up LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton's brand Loewe, which is popular in Asia but hasn't been widely sold in the U.S.
What Americans really want when they look into a politician's eyes is to see their own images reflected back, like in Narcissus' pool. The presidency in particular has become the highest ground in the culture war. Americans want a candidate who validates them personally. "I'm voting for him because he's a hunter like me." "I'm backing her because she's a woman too." "I'm for that guy because he's angry like me." Such sentiments have colored the presidential contest for so long, they've saturated it like stain into wood.
"Authenticity" - on which voters supposedly place such a premium - is really just a label put on self-validation. Bill Clinton infamously promised he felt our pain. Hillary Clinton similarly sold her 2000 bid for the Senate by arguing that she was more concerned about the issues that concern New Yorkers than her competitor. Question: Would you prefer a blase surgeon remove your appendix or a very concerned plumber?
There Will Be Tedium: film reviews of There Will Be Blood and Sweeny Todd
There Will Be Blood has all the markings of a movie that will sweep the Academy Awards: 1. It's based on a novel - Upton Sinclair's Oil (no, I haven't read the book). 2. It spans decades. 3. It's a tour de force for its star, who is unkempt, unshaven, and for the most part, unwashed. And he looks like he wasn't wearing makeup, too. 4. It has vast landscapes of barren land that serve as a metaphor for the soul of the protagonist. 5. It's billed as "A sprawling epic of family, faith, power and oil". 6. It's a period piece. 7. And you can write a whole thesis on how the oil relates to oil wars, family dysfuction, the American psyche, religion(*), yadda yadda yadda.
The movie starts with a twenty-minute sequence without dialogue, so it will appeal to film students, too.
All the actors were very good: Paul Dano does a spectacular performance of a man torn by the spiritual and the temporal. Dillon Freasier is very engaging as the young son. Ciaran Hinds doesn't have much to say but looks handsome in his own somber way. Daniel Day Lewis will win another Oscar, of course, since he's on screen for 90% of the movie, some of it chewing up the screen in artistic ways.
The soundtrack was rather eccentric, combining modern dissonance with classical violin tracks. There is no musical cliche unturned when it comes to manipulating the audience, or so it seems. The photography was excellent.
Having said all this, There Will Be Blood is not so much a drama as it is a lengthy session of tedium interspersed with segments of vivid, dramatic intensity, some of it predictable (you know someone's going to get hurt in the wells), most of them involving a sociopath.
Armond White has more to say on the whole tedious mess.
As I said, it'll sweep the Oscars.
(*) Exodus 7:19-25 is the passage where Moses unleashes the seven plagues on Egypt. It starts,
19And the LORD spake unto Moses, Say unto Aaron, Take thy rod, and stretch out thine hand upon the waters of Egypt, upon their streams, upon their rivers, and upon their ponds, and upon all their pools of water, that they may become blood; and that there may be blood throughout all the land of Egypt, both in vessels of wood, and in vessels of stone.
That will certainly give it a much dramatic title that plain old "Oil".
Here's the preview:
The men in There Will Be Blood didn't have access to a barber and the film didn't show much much blood, but the blood flowed abundantly in Sweeny Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
I had seen Sweeney Todd on Broadway back in the year dot starring Angela Lansbury and Len Cariou, and, while I wasn't crazy about the Sondheim music and the plot, Lansbury/Cariou were immensely entertaining, dramatic, funny and tragic at the same time. Johnny Depp does a nice enough job but seeing the film version was just setting myself up for a disappointment. Angela's Mrs. Lovett was no one's victim, no matter her demise; Helena Bonham-Carter's thin voice doesn't help either.
By now I've seen enough of Tim Burton's schtick to recognize his cinematic bag of tricks.
The rest of our group didn't like the copious amount of blood to the point that they hated the movie.
And let's be glad Alan Rickman's not going on a singing tour.
The film's signal originality, and the occasion of its most grotesque travesty of a great poem, is its "vision" of what should have been the second and most terrifying monster: Grendel's mother, who dwells in the depths of a haunted pool. But that's no monster, that's Angelina Jolie--and, boy, swiche wenche was never ere now found in mere, tarn, lagoon, or hwaelsweg, let alone in the giant fishbowl dreamed up by our director. In light-hearted mood, medieval scholars debated such questions as this: "If you are to be married to a mermaid, which half do you want to be fish?" Zemeckis appears to have the implied problem all figured out, since Grendel's Mom has been most fecund in her many matings with, apparently, every king in town. We have always known who Beowulf's father was. We now learn that actually, like poor old Job, he is a brother to dragons. This is too silly for words, but, alas, not for pictures.
Critics have labeled the new movie "Rendition" a "political thriller." Whether it thrills or not is subjective. But "political"? Absolutely. It’s merely the latest in an unbroken series of major films about the war on terror that range from those seeking to assure us that Islamist terrorism isn’t the threat we might think, to those depicting the terrorists as no worse than those who fight them - and by implication the American people as a whole.
Michael mentions The Sum of All Fears:
Consider, too, the odyssey of the conversion of Tom Clancy's massive best-selling 1991 book, "The Sum of All Fears," in which a nuclear bomb destroys an American city, into the 2002 film of the same name. In the book and the original script, the bad guys were Islamist terrorists. Little did Mr. Clancy know how realistic his choices of villains were: Federal court hearings in February 2001 revealed that as early as 1993, Osama bin Laden offered $1.5 million to buy uranium for a nuclear weapon.
But ultimately the Paramount movie depicted the bomber as yet another comic book character vil
This morning's old movie at TCM is 
The film about the very ill Edith Piaf