George Donaldson in The Harp and Fiddle Pub, Pittsburgh, PA, 12-8-13

It’s been five years since my dad turned on PBS just in time to hear Scottish balladeer George Donaldson singing the touching tribute The Old Man, which served as his introduction to the group Celtic Thunder, whose music quickly took my family by storm. On December 8th, we had the opportunity to see George in concert in the intimate setting of the Harp and Fiddle pub in Pittsburgh. My parents, my fiancé Will and I made the trek, stopping along the way for lunch with the dear friends responsible for my meeting Will. As the only member of our quartet not intimately familiar with George’s music, he looked forward to becoming better acquainted with this accomplished singer-songwriter.

The concert was set to start at 7:30 p.m., but we arrived shortly before 5, and shortly after 5, we were allowed to go in. We were led to a table for four right up against the stage; Will had managed to secure the best seats in the house. Shortly after we arrived, George took the stage for a sound check and performed a shortened version of I Wish I Were Back Home in Derry, which shares its melody with Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. At that point, we were left to order off the special George Donaldson Concert menu that had been drawn up, so the four of us shared pretzels, shepherd’s pie and fish and chips and awaited the beginning of the concert.

Having previously seen Celtic Thunder’s Ryan Kelly and Neil Byrne together in a similar format, I expected that George’s concert would proceed in a similar fashion. It basically did, except that, as there was no one onstage for him to banter with, he interacted directly with audience members more often. He also had a general narrative scope to his concert, though he made several joking comments to encourage the appearance of complete spontaneity. While he did take some audience requests and probably made some last-minute song decisions, several of his selections flowed together naturally, particularly the segment chronicling a life-changing experience for him as a performer.

He detailed a time when he had started working for the money rather than the passion of performing. He had recently seen Saving Private Ryan, so when he sang The Green Fields of France - a ballad about the futility of war later recorded by Celtic Thunder as one of its most moving ensemble pieces – it really struck a chord with him, and he felt his passion returning. Later that night, he got into a conversation with one of the few people present for his concert, and the audience member requested he sing a Harry Chapin song. Upon learning that George didn’t know who that was, he begged him to buy one of his albums and even gave him the money to pay for it. George later did just that and was transfixed by the storytelling genius of this singer-songwriter whose songs were usually too long to be heard on the radio.

This story was punctuated by his performances of Green Fields of France and A Song for Harry Chapin, his lengthy and touching tribute to the late singer. I was particularly hoping he would sing that song, since Harry is Will’s all-time favorite singer and I knew he would especially appreciate it. He followed it up with a performance of two of Harry’s songs, starting with the tender Tangled Up Puppet, a touching address to Harry’s growing daughter that is particularly meaningful for George, whose only child is a daughter, as well as for me, especially with my dad right across the table. He also performed Harry’s most widely known song, Cat’s in the Cradle, another bittersweet song about parent-child relationships.

The deeply personal thread that tied these songs together was present throughout the evening as he casually chatted in that rumbling brogue, laughter in his eyes even as he filled the set with tragic tunes prompting him to say, “If you came here to be cheered up, you’ve come to the wrong place.” Of course, that was an exaggeration, and uplifting or cheerful songs were not in short supply. He sang several songs of his own composition, including a tribute to his beloved wife Carrie, a recollection about his early days as a musician in Burlington, a speculative ode inspired by an autistic fan and the title song of his second album.

He also covered many well-known folk-rock and pop songs, starting with James Taylor’s Fire and Rain. Others included Elton John’s Your Song, Simon and Garfunkel’s Homeward Bound and John Denver’s Leavin’ on a Jet Plane. None of these included much in the way of background, but he performed The Who’s Pinball Wizard as a demonstration that he could rock with the best of them, and he expressed his admiration for Jim Croce, another musician who, like Harry Chapin, specialized in story-songs and died young in a tragic accident. Croce merited two songs, Time in a Bottle and Bad Bad Leroy Brown, which Ryan performed as part of Celtic Thunder’s It’s Entertainment.

Other more folk-oriented selections included Peter Hames’ Ordinary Man, the song of an enraged and disenfranchised worker and Ralph McTell’s Grand Affair, as well as several songs he had performed, either solo or as a group song with Celtic Thunder, including Rita McNeil’s Working Man, the first song of the night on which he openly encouraged the audience to sing along; Caledonia, a traditional tribute to Scotland; The Old Man; Galway Girl; the gentle Scarlet Ribbons (For Her Hair); the Piano Man-esque Red Rose Café; and his always-rousing cover of The Proclaimers’ I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), which ended the concert.

Throughout the whole concert, it was just him and his guitar, and he took no breaks except for the occasional pause for a sip of Diet Coke. He was warm and personable and occasionally snarky, and the music of his accent was pure magic, even if he often joked that we probably couldn’t understand half of what he was saying. Everyone in the audience of perhaps a hundred or so seemed to be having a wonderful time as he shared his anecdotes and insights and the rippling majesty of his resonant singing voice and superior guitar-playing.

While the only thing available for sale after the show was George’s first album, which we already have, he graciously stayed long enough that anyone who wanted an autograph or a photo with him could get one. We opted for the latter, giving us a wonderful memento of an evening of superlative musicianship and balladry. It was a wonderful opportunity for my parents and me, who have treasured George’s artistry for years, and a perfect way for Will to immerse himself in his work. In fact, toward the end of the concert, he passed me a note to say that he’d never enjoyed a concert more than this one. It really is the most personal way to experience a great musician, and I’m so glad that the lads of Celtic Thunder have begun to branch out into these more intimate side-projects. If you love songs that tell a story and musicians who pour their souls into their performances, I hope you will have the chance to see one of George’s pub concerts. He doesn’t do many of them in the United States, but for a very reasonable price, you can get an evening of warm fellowship and exceptional music.

Hyacinth's Attempts at Sophistication Wreak Havoc in Keeping Up Appearances

Earlier this year, when we were searching Netflix for sit-coms that my boyfriend, my mom and I could enjoy together, we settled on Keeping Up Appearances, which we’d caught on occasion on PBS. It didn’t take us long to discover that if you’ve seen one episode of this 90s Brit-com, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Nonetheless, there is enough humor packed into each episode that we didn’t mind seeing the same jokes over and over again. In fact, it was fun anticipating the repeated gags; the consistency just adds to the cozy feel of the series. We watched all the episodes and enjoyed each one, while appreciating the fact that we didn’t have to watch too intently. It made for perfect comfort viewing.

Keeping Up Appearances bears some resemblance to Frasier in that it revolves around a character who is obsessed with being perceived as sophisticated and well-to-do, little realizing how ridiculous her efforts appear to nearly everyone around her. Patricia Routledge plays Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced “Boo-KAY” on her insistence), a middle-class homemaker who delights in buying fancy furniture, showing off her Royal Doulton tea set with the hand-painted periwinkles, holding elegant candlelight suppers and lending her dubious expertise to as many church and community functions as possible. She is shamelessly self-aggrandizing, yet there is a sweetness to her demeanor that makes her difficult to truly despise, especially when the biggest victim of her schemes is so often herself.

One of Hyacinth’s greatest sources of mortification is the ramshackle household of her frumpy sister Daisy (Judy Cornwell) and frumpier brother-in-law Onslow (Geoffrey Hughes), to which her flirtatious sister Rose (Shirley Stelfox in the first season, Mary Millar in the rest) and demented father (George Webb) also belong. While Rose is constantly in a melodramatic uproar over her latest romantic fling and Daddy keeps wandering off on some absurd adventure, Daisy and Onslow are generally content, though the former is constantly angling for more amorous attention from the latter, who is always absorbed in staticky TV shows or books on quantum mechanics.

However, their low-class mannerisms and rickety possessions deeply embarrass Hyacinth, so she spends much of her time trying to hide the fact that they are related to her. By contrast, she often brags about her wealthy sister Violet (Anna Dawson), but the antics of her cross-dressing husband are further cause for humiliation. Despite all this, she remains devoted to her family, and whenever a crisis arises, she is on hand to assist – or at least, she makes sure that her husband Richard (Clive Swift) is, no matter how inconvenient that may be to him.

Swift gives a masterfully understated performance as the perpetually put-upon Richard. Whether he is enduring a constant stream of confusing instructions from Hyacinth on his driving or gritting his teeth while she agrees over the phone to send yet another chunk of cash to their never-seen son Sheridan, he constantly appears quietly bedraggled and exasperated. His mild-mannered decency makes him an object of profound sympathy for many in Hyacinth’s inner circle, particularly free-spirited Onslow and the Buckets’ next-door neighbor Elizabeth (Josephine Tewson), who understands all too well the stress of keeping Hyacinth placated. A gentle people pleaser who sees little choice but to indulge Hyacinth’s every whim, Elizabeth is at her funniest and most pitiable when attempting to get through one of her neighbor’s coffee get-togethers without dropping anything. Elizabeth’s brother Emmet (David Griffin), who joins the cast in the second season, has less patience for Hyacinth but finds himself equally unable to escape her attentions, particularly since he directs local musicals and she fancies herself a talented performer.

After watching the show for a season or two, it would be fun to make a list of all the running jokes and repeated elements and put them on Bingo cards to add an extra element of entertainment to a group viewing of this show. For instance: Hyacinth mentions her tea set. Hyacinth demands that a guest remove his or her shoes. Rose starts a new relationship. Daisy reads a romance novel. Richard warns Hyacinth not to give Sheridan any more money. Hyacinth tells Richard to “mind the pedestrian” who is nowhere near their vehicle. Onslow’s dog knocks Hyacinth over when she walks past his car. The mailman tries to hide from Hyacinth. These are just a few examples of the dozens of gags that are recycled throughout the series, yet they’re mixed up in just the right way so that watching a new episode feels familiar but not onerous.

This is most definitely an episodic show, and rarely are there any ongoing storylines. It’s a pretty fair bet that you can watch any episode in isolation and understand the show’s dynamics by the end of it. While it’s certainly not necessary to watch the show from beginning to end to appreciate it, each of the 44 episodes makes for very pleasant viewing.

Mike and Sulley Meet in Monsters University

The folks at Pixar are known for crafting films that tell wonderful stories full of humor and heart. Rarely has the mix been better than in Monsters, Inc., the 2001 movie set in a world in which monsters power their city by collecting the screams of children in our world. These monsters, while wildly diverse in physical traits, are largely average Joes, particularly the huge, blue-haired James Sullivan (John Goodman) and the short, one-eyed Mike Wazowski (Billy Crystal). An unusually close encounter with a toddler challenges their world-view and ultimately deepens their friendship, with far-reaching consequences for their society at large.

While I did not expect Monsters University to have the emotional and spiritual depth of the film that preceded it, I was excited to hear that more than a decade after they first appeared, these unconventional buddies would be gracing the big screen again, this time in a prequel. From a purely visual standpoint, I knew it would be great fun, since this particular world offers so many opportunities to exercise artistic creativity. I also relished the thought of seeing these fantastic friends in action again. While I don’t think this will attain the classic status that Toy Story 2 has, I found it a very enjoyable return to familiar territory.

While I would consider Sulley the slightly more main character in Monsters, Inc., Mike moves into greater prominence here. In fact, the movie begins with him as an adorable youngster rejected by his classmates for his small size, braces and overall nerdiness. A trip to the scare factory gives him a sense of direction, and his arrival at Monsters University is the result of intensive study. His passion for the material knows no bounds, but can this rather goofy fellow actually be scary? How will he stand a chance against the raw talent of someone like fellow freshman James Sullivan, a true jock among monsters?

In many ways, this is a typical college comedy about a nerd and a popular person learning from each other. Many of the jokes borrow from other films in that genre, but the creators put a fun Pixar spin on them that makes the movie great fun to watch. As in the first movie, the monsters display all sorts of creative characteristics, and here, the emphasis is on teamwork – finding ways to make those traits come together in productive ways. This is best demonstrated in the members of Oozma Kappa, the uber-dorky fraternity of misfits that Mike and Sulley join so they can enter a campus-wide contest to prove to the austere university headmistress, a dragon voiced by Helen Mirren, that they deserve to be students there.

At first, Mike and Sulley are rivals too blinded by their own pride to form a useful partnership, while their teammates are merely ineffective and lacking in proper leadership. Eventually, however, they learn to develop their strengths and use them to everyone’s benefit. Two-headed Terri and Terry and super-flexible Art are fun, but particularly prominent are the beautifully bland Squishy, his sweetly overbearing mother (in whose home the fraternity is housed) and Don, the fraternity’s middle-aged founder. Together, they make a lovable bunch of underdogs.

While there’s at least one line in the original movie that seems to clash with the storyline presented here, the film generally does a good job of meshing believably with Monsters, Inc., and the nods to that movie are fun, particularly running jokes like Mike’s tendency to get obscured in photographs. Not only do we see the evolution of Mike and Sulley’s friendship, but of their rivalry with Randall (Steve Buscemi), the sneaky chameleon-like lizard who causes them no end of trouble at the factory. His progression is an interesting study in the dark side of desiring popularity.

While neither the movie nor the charming short involving a blue umbrella’s quest to find happiness are the most memorable of Pixar’s efforts, they are thoroughly enjoyable, and the visual spectacle of the film is more pronounced than ever. The backdrops are particularly impressive. While many of the jokes seem to aim more at an adult audience as they draw on previous films, there’s nothing objectionable for parents to worry about, and there’s plenty of slapstick to keep the youngest kids entertained. A tribute to friendship and the value of hard work and overcoming prejudices, Monsters University is a fun and colorful summer flick.

A Killer Shark Makes for a Killer Movie

Last month, my dear friend Crissy moved from southern California to my hometown of Erie, Pennsylvania. My fiancé Will and I eagerly welcomed her, and one of our first quintessential Erie outings was to Tinseltown, our local multiplex, for its Wednesday classic movie showing. The film of the day was Steven Spielberg’s Jaws, the summery flick that made swimming at the beach a rather terrifying prospect.

As I’ve never been fond of man-eating sharks, I’d managed to go three decades without seeing this blockbuster, so I didn’t realize the breach of hospitality I was making by having our new fellow Pennsylvanian see this particular movie on her second day in Erie. Alas, how was I to know that a girl sharing her name would be the first to fall victim to those powerful teeth?

Happily, not only is Crissy made of stronger stuff than I am, but she’d already watched her name-twin get ripped to shreds before, so she survived the cinematic trauma beautifully. In fact, I was the only one of the three venturing into new movie territory. I was also the one eager to stick the popcorn box over my head every time John Williams’ helpfully unsubtle shark theme began to play. However, I am glad I can finally say that I watched this monster of a disaster flick.

Jaws takes place in a small island town preparing for its lavish 4th of July celebration. Amity has a friendly name, but a dark threat has made it a less than ideal destination. Conscientious sheriff Martin Brody, played by a sympathetic Roy Scheider, wants to close the beaches as soon as evidence of the first shark attack washes up on shore, but he faces opposition in the form of the cheerfully oblivious Mayor Vaughn (Murray Hamilton), who can only see dollar signs from the island’s booming tourist industry, which depends mostly on the beaches.

The first half of the movie is a battle of wills between these two men, with Brody finding an eccentric ally in the form of disheveled shark expert Hooper, endearingly played by Richard Dreyfuss. It is during this portion that the beach scenes I’d always associated with the movie occur. The mass hysteria that immediately ensues when a shark attacks on a hot July day is chilling to watch, particularly as Spielberg allows us to linger for a moment on individual reactions.

I’d always found it a bit odd that a movie could sustain this premise for long; with no one in the water to attack, there’s not much harm a shark can do, and why would anyone be foolish enough to venture out into shark-infested waters? The first half of the movie keeps that tension up believably, though, partly because of the stubborn mayor’s actions that mask the threat to the public and partly because of a fierce shark hunt, the results of which produce a false sense of security among the townspeople and visitors.

What I didn’t realize is that half the movie takes place out at sea in the claustrophobic quarters of a small ship on which Brody and Hooper are under the command of eerie sea captain Quint, played with grizzled menace by Robert Shaw. This accomplished seafarer has more than a dash of Captain Ahab in him, with his thirst for revenge stemming from a chilling incident that he relates late at night when a comical comparison of “war wounds” turns unsettling.

The sense of isolation in the latter half of the movie makes it bleaker, but it also allows the trio to develop, particularly Brody and Hooper, each of whom has seen considerable unpleasantness but remains rather sheltered. This portion is marked by male bonding and an omnipresent threat of calamity as a rather rickety boat is all that stands between these hunters and their enormous prey.

While there are many startling moments throughout the movie, the humor is also plentiful. Hooper is a particularly funny character who is frequently ready with a wisecrack, but the film is full of little moments, some of them purely visual, that elicit a laugh. That makes it as fun as it is frightening, particularly since the violent bits are mostly spread out.

Will also postulated that it’s the ideal date movie, since the squeamish viewer will frequently seek comfort in the arms of the braver party. While I thwarted that notion by simply blinding myself with popcorn at the critical moments, it’s certainly a fun movie for chums to see together… just not too soon before a trip to the beach.

Little Women Celebrates Stories, Sisterhood and Their Intersections

Ten years ago, someone made a decision that would ultimately have an enormous impact on both of our lives. That someone was my very dear friend Beth, who joined Epinions ten years ago today under the name Befus. She had no idea when she typed that initial review that it would be the first of more than a thousand, but she has poured her heart and soul into upwards of 1200 reviews here, each a well-crafted gem that reveals her gentle spirit and hearty humor along with her incisive insights.

While we encountered each other occasionally beforehand, my friendship with Beth began in earnest in October of 2005 thanks to our shared passion for J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis and poetry, and though I’d been on the site five years at that point, it wasn’t until then that Epinions truly felt like home. In the seven and a half years since, we have ruminated over countless tales that ignite our souls, warm our hearts and reflect the Love of our great Creator. We reread the Harry Potter series together in anticipation of the final installment, volleyed e-mails back and forth as we puzzled over the conundrums of LOST, shared our enthusiasm over easy reader masters like Arnold Lobel and Cynthia Rylant, and gave each other an endless stream of recommendations.

Together, we’ve witnessed enormous changes in our families, particularly the growth of her highly creative and compassionate daughter, now on the cusp of 11, and the graduations and relocations of my very different but equally accomplished brothers. We’ve shared our deepest dreams and fears, spurred each other to new creative heights, comforted each other in the midst of our darkest lows and giggled madly over absurd IM conversations well past midnight. We share the sort of bond enjoyed by Jo and Beth, the two middle sisters in the Louisa May Alcott novel Little Women. As I pondered what to review in order to mark Beth’s Epi-versary – which also coincides with my 3333rd post here – my boyfriend Will, to whom Beth introduced me, suggested the 1994 film adaptation of this classic, one of the dearest stories to Beth’s heart.

I saw this version when it first came out, one of the few movies I watched in the theater with my paternal grandma, and aside from an Alcott biography I’d read that touched on the novel, it served as my introduction to the story, though it’s funny I hadn’t read the book, since Little Women was the first novel my dad ever read. Certainly it has an appeal that transcends gender and generational divides. The tale involves the four March sisters – upright Meg, spunky Jo, angelic Beth and tempestuous Amy – who grow up amid the backdrop of the Civil War with a father on the front lines and a tough but graceful mother who raises them to be kind, moral young ladies of intelligence and resourcefulness.

As I watched, I was struck again by the similarities between protagonist Jo and Anne Shirley, the heroine of L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables series. Both are aspiring writers who are drawn to the melodramatic and fanciful and only meet with widespread literary success when they take the initially infuriating advice of a love interest and write instead from their personal experience. Both are non-conformists who display extremes of generosity and pettiness. Both are horrified when a dear chum proposes marriage, and both struggle mightily with the idea of growing up and accepting the changes that separate them from cherished friends and family. Winona Ryder captures the swirling emotions of this dynamic character perfectly. While the girls are often together throughout the movie, we get to know Jo much more intimately, and she feels very real, both flawed and extraordinary.

As appealing as Jo is, I’ve always been particularly drawn to the sweet, sickly Beth, who, like me, is rather shy and enjoys playing the piano. Claire Danes conveys her hesitance and gentleness well, and her scenes involving her illnesses are particularly affecting. I found myself wishing we would see a bit more of her, but when she is a central character, she makes a powerful impact. Trini Alvarado also seems to embody Meg well, though she gets even less attention than Beth and at times seems a little lost in the shuffle. The trilling, motor-mouthed young Kirsten Dunst is a little dynamo as Amy, the youngest sister, and she frequently steals the spotlight with her precocious mischief. In contrast, Samantha Mathis seems listless as the older Amy; if we’d only seen her at this age, it might feel like a more fitting performance, but as it is I just found myself missing that spit and vinegar.

This adaptation was written by Robin Swicord and directed by Gillian Armstrong, who both seem to have great affection for the source material. The movie is beautifully filmed, especially the winter scenes full of gently falling snow and festive expanses. It also makes one feel good about humanity; while everyone has foibles, there’s a real sense of goodness throughout, and even ornery old cranks like Mary Wickes’ Aunt March and John Neville’s Mr. Laurence display moments of exuberance and grace. While I always felt bad for Christian Bale’s boyish Laurie, who remains frozen in time by the woman he so desperately loves, the more seasoned sweetness of Gabriel Byrne’s German professor Friedrich Bhaer is equally endearing, if not so steeped in shared history.

Little Women might not be a perfect adaptation – so few of those exist – but then, as it was my starting point, I don’t much mind the omissions and departures. I find it a lovely family film that celebrates inventiveness, companionship and a deep love of the written word, all hallmarks of my friendship with Beth. For the ways in which superlative stories have brought us together, I am deeply grateful; my life would be woefully bereft were she not a part of it. Here’s to you, Beth!

Spielberg's War Horse Pays Tribute to Four-Legged Soldiers

I’ve always been a sucker for a good horse movie, and anything directed by Steven Spielberg usually piques my interest, so even though I generally avoid war movies, 2011’s War Horse had been on my radar for a while. I got to watch it this week after my aunt gave it to us, proclaiming it an excellent film, and while there were moments I couldn’t watch what was unfolding on the screen, I would have to agree.

The movie begins in rural England, where stubborn farmer Ted Narracott (Peter Mullan) spends more money than he has on a horse unlikely to be suited to the crucial task of plowing his field. The animal is beautiful, however, and had already been admired as a colt by Ted’s gentle, idealistic son Albert (Jeremy Irvine). The boy vows to train the horse and teach him to plow the field, the harvest from which is the only thing standing between the Narracotts and financial ruin. The horse, who he names Joey, is wild and restless, but he and the boy bond deeply and spend a blissful summer together. Then, disaster strikes, and the adventure begins.

Nearly the first hour of the movie is placid and fairly light-hearted, marked by gorgeous expanses of green English land and tender moments of companionship between boy and horse. However, when a failed harvest leads Ted to sell Joey to the cavalry in the early days of World War I, much to Albert’s fury, the tone changes – not instantly, but after a few minutes, with the charge of a German camp. From that point forward, the movie becomes much darker, with moments of light as Joey meets with various kind-hearted individuals who recognize his superlative spirit.

Albert is the main human protagonist, though we leave him for long stretches of time while we follow Joey’s progress as he keeps changing hands and witnesses the horrors of war from a horse’s-eye view. Irvine, starring in his first feature film, makes Albert deeply sympathetic, and Emily Watson brings a no-nonsense but compassionate edge to the role of his mother Rose. Mullan is by turns endearingly daft and frighteningly cold, while David Thewlis evokes ire as his obnoxious long-time rival. Other characters come and go fairly quickly, each leaving a significant mark, particularly Niels Arestrup as a doting grandfather who encounters Joey midway through the movie.

The film is beautifully shot and directed, and we truly feel the plight of the countless horses conscripted into service and made to face barrages of bullets and backbreaking labor tugging artillery. We see this especially through the first horse Joey meets in the army, a black stallion who isn’t nearly as clever or strong as Joey, who looks after him. Even as we root for Joey to defy all the odds to reunite with Albert and return home in peace after the war, the carnage of human and horse alike that swirls around him is devastating.

The movie has a slightly fanciful quality to it as Joey has so many close brushes with calamity in the most hostile of environments, but Spielberg still shows the ugliness of war quite plainly. Several scenes are downright heartbreaking, and as Joey finds himself on both sides of the conflict at various points, we feel the Germans’ pain just as acutely and see their humanity. As the movie is rated PG-13, the violence is toned down somewhat, but there are still grotesque moments aplenty, even if they aren’t as graphic as Saving Private Ryan. He certainly couldn’t be accused of making war look glamorous.

This isn’t the kind of movie I’d be likely to watch repeatedly, but it is an excellent film that is both touching and horrifying. While it’s not based on a true story, it is rooted in a very specific historical situation and therefore has educational as well as entertainment value. Though it covers rougher territory than many films exploring the bond between human and animal, the journey Spielberg asks viewers to take is an important one with a bittersweet conclusion emphasizing the power of love in the midst of unbearable pain.

One Was Johnny, Who Just Wanted Some Time to Read

It’s always fun to stumble upon a new-to-me book by a beloved author, especially when that writer is deceased. Such was the case for me with One Was Johnny, a counting book written by Maurice Sendak in 1962. At half a century old, the book is fairly simplistic and doesn’t quite reflect the inventive brilliance of which Sendak was capable, but the illustration style is recognizably his, as is his fondness for mayhem.

The book is small, about seven inches tall and five inches wide, and contains 42 pages of story, though only about half of those pages contain text. The rarely-broken pattern finds a picture covering two pages, with two lines of text on the right page. The first page rhymes with the second, and so on. Additionally, nearly every page with text begins with a number – first 1 through 10, then 9 through 1. The number 10 is a bit of a cheat, since every other number correlates to how many living beings are in the room. However, it makes an effective mid-point to the story.

Sendak seems to have been having fun with this book, despite the ornery attitude of the main character, a solitary boy named Johnny. All of the animals in this book are up to some sort of mischief, so things have gotten pretty wild by the time Johnny decides he needs to put a stop to it. Sendak also comes up with some rather inventive rhymes such as “Havana” and “banana.”

As is typical of books from this time period, One Was Johnny includes some color, but it still has a fairly drab look to it. Mostly, he uses shades of blue and yellow to augment the black and white drawings. One might think all the blue in Johnny’s house could be indicative of a sad spirit, but watching his facial expressions change from page to page, it’s quite evident that he is perfectly happy with his life as it is and the only thing that brings him misery is too much company.

I suppose one could say, then, that the tone of the tale is a bit anti-social, but any introvert can appreciate this young man’s need for alone time. As a man who spent much of his life writing and drawing in some degree of seclusion, I imagine that Sendak would have been annoyed by such a barrage of uninvited guests too. It’s probably worth noting that when the book begins, Johnny is reading, truly an endeavor worthy of a little space.

There are other counting books that I prefer to this, but if you’re looking for something simple yet entertaining, this quick romp through a little room filled with a boy and eight interlopers is an enjoyable option.

An Ivy Leaguer Gets a Circus Education in Water for Elephants

This line from the Buddy Mondlock song The Kid sprang to mind right away as I watched the 2011 drama Water for Elephants, in which a contemporary centenarian reflects on his experience in the circus in 1931. The movie was a gift from my aunt, who came to town with my uncle last week to visit my convalescing mom. One of two movies that she offered as film night fodder, it appealed to her especially because of the animals involved, particularly Rosie, the elephant referred to in the title.

Robert Pattinson doesn’t stray far from the golden boy image he’s presented as noble Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory in the Harry Potter series and protective vampire Edward in the Twilight series. Jacob is intelligent, sensitive and a bit coddled, having had a very happy childhood with his Polish farmer parents. His world comes crashing around him when, in the very midst of taking the final exam that will grant him his veterinarian’s license, his parents are killed in a car crash and he learns that all of their resources belong to the bank. Grief-stricken and penniless, he takes to the rails and winds up on a circus train. He has the skills needed to tend to the menagerie, but dealing with deranged ringmaster August (Christoph Waltz) and resisting the charms of his vulnerable wife Marlena (Reese Witherspoon) prove more difficult.

Jacob is extremely likable, a compassionate soul who is about to receive an intense education in how brutal the world can be. Marlena is a gentle but tragic figure, a woman of deep empathy for the creatures her husband abuses and an attraction to this young newcomer who is so much kinder than the man she married. Pattinson and Witherspoon work beautifully together, while the scenes with Waltz are fraught with tension as he so effectively plays a smiling tyrant whose next move can never be predicted. August’s brokenness is all too apparent, which makes him pitiable despite the desire to see him removed from his position and never allowed to hold sway over another again.

These three characters, along with the sweet and talented elephant August hopes will revive his circus’s fortunes, are central to the point that others are scarcely more than window dressing, but a side story involving paternal circus hand Camel (Jim Norton) and standoffish, short-statured Kinko (Mark Povinelli) helps draw us into the wider plight of circus performers, while Paul Schneider’s endearing performance as modern-day circus owner Charlie opposite Hal Holbrook’s aged Jacob show us how the business has changed.

There is some real darkness in this movie that explores the cruel underpinnings of a beloved form of entertainment. August is truly monstrous, not only to his animals but to his human employees, thinking nothing of having them heaved from the moving train when they misbehave or he simply can’t afford to keep them. I shudder to think this was common practice, but most of the film’s grimmer aspects are easy to believe. Nonetheless, while the film is steeped in ugliness, there are moments of piercing beauty, and the movie leaves us guessing right up until the final moments just how badly Jacob’s stint with August’s circus will end. The movie takes some cues from Titanic as it shows the gritty underbelly of what at first seems glamorous and sets us up for disaster, but we don’t know how encompassing that disaster will be, and that keeps the tension cranked up high throughout.

While the PG-13 movie has little language and very limited displays of sexuality, the violence is extreme at times, even if much of it is left to the imagination. I would stick with the rating guidelines here and avoid showing this to younger children, but teens should be able to handle it, and it might even be well-suited to a high school history class because of all the Depression-era issues it explores. While it’s not an entirely happy movie, Water for Elephants is well worth watching.

iSteve Offers a Humorous Look at Two Fascinating Steves

One of the perks of finding a movie or television series I really love is that it provides an entry point to countless other movies and series through its actors. My favorite series is LOST, which is rich and diverse enough in characters and their histories that there are about a hundred actors I can see in another setting and instantly identify them. Smaller is the list of LOST actors I actively seek out, and at the top of that list is Jorge Garcia, who played the expansively compassionate Hurley.

I have delighted in Garcia’s post-LOST appearances on How I Met Your Mother, Alcatraz and Once Upon a Time, a series whose LOST connections are almost too numerous to count, but until last month, the only movies I had seen him in were several years old. If it weren’t for his involvement, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to hear about iSteve, the Ryan Perez-directed movie that spoofs the life of Steve Jobs, but thanks to a Facebook tip-off, I was able to watch it within days of its being released on the website Funny or Die.

Given that my dad spent over three decades teaching computer science at the college level, I had some interest in and knowledge of the rocky path that Steve Jobs followed to techie superstardom, particularly since accounts of his life were so prevalent after his death in 2011. Those stories usually mentioned Steve Wozniak, painting him as a quieter, humbler man whose computer genius may have exceeded that of Jobs. When I saw him at a motivational seminar last summer, I was impressed with his message and his cheerful attitude, and I’ve remained especially drawn to his side of the story.

iSteve is primarily the tale of Jobs, which he narrates as part of a presentation in a venue not revealed until the film ends. However, it is also the story of Wozniak, and in many ways, it is a greater tribute to his perseverance and devotion. Justin Long plays the charismatic Jobs, who always manages to bounce back after even the most crushing defeats, while Garcia is the ever-faithful Wozniak, who tinkers with computers for the sheer love of it and follows Jobs out of loyalty even when his friend barely seems to acknowledge his existence.

The movie is classified as a spoof, so it becomes difficult sometimes to extract the threads of fact from the outright fabrications. However, the general trajectory of Jobs’ career can be found in this film, and the dynamics of his friendship with Wozniak seem to reflect much of what I have read about them. Other aspects, such as a longstanding flirtation between Jobs and Melinda Gates (Michaela Watkins), seem to have no basis in reality.

Given Long’s breakout role as the hip young Mac opposite a schlubby PC in a popular, long-running series of Apple ads, the very fact that he is playing Jobs feels amusingly appropriate. Meanwhile, the cuddly brand of geekery Garcia expressed so well as Hurley feels perfectly at home in Wozniak. Beyond these two familiar faces, the only cast member I recognized was Big Bang Theory’s John Ross Bowie as rival John Sculley, though several characters are prominent public figures, particularly Bill Gates (James Urbaniak).

As comedies go, I would say that iSteve is fairly understated. There were times I laughed aloud, but most of the action was pretty straightforward with just a quirky touch here and there. However, I found it very accessible and less dry than many biopics tend to be. My boyfriend Will agreed to watch it with me, expecting to be bored, and instead enjoyed it from beginning to end. It helps that it’s a fast-moving film that clocks in at just over an hour. There’s a bit of foul language and lewdness, but for the most part, it’s a reasonably clean movie that encourages interest in two great innovators and the tug-of-war that often occurs between entrepreneurship and friendship.

1989's Polly Injects Fresh Life Into a Classic Tale

My mom and boyfriend both count Disney’s Pollyanna among their favorite movies, and while I enjoy that sunny Hayley Mills classic, I fell in love with the perpetually optimistic orphan through another route. When I was around 10, my aunt sent us a few movies she’d taped off of television, one of which was the made-for-TV Disney movie Polly, released in 1989 and moving the setting up to the 1950s. This lively remake features Keshia Knight Pulliam and Phylicia Rashad, then starring as Rudy and Clair Huxtable on The Cosby Show, as the free-spirited Polly and her restrictive aunt of the same name.

As will happen with movies taped off of TV, the video went bad years ago, and Disney never made it available for purchase… until very recently. My friend Libbie, recalling my past praises of the movie, bought it a couple months ago, eager to share this beloved movie from my childhood with me, as well as her niece. We watched it together at her house, and then I borrowed it to watch with Mom and Will. Seeing it again after all these years was a joyful experience.

Like Rudy Huxtable, Pulliam’s Polly is a little spitfire, more tomboyish and less demure than Mills’ Pollyanna. She has an impish grin and can’t help putting a little ‘tude into her conversations, especially when she is dealing with a particularly stubborn person. The one exception to that is her severe aunt, to whom she is quietly respectful, though she does gently prod her in the direction of a more liberated way of living. Polly has a gift for seeing the good in every situation and individual, part of the legacy left to her by her father. She has a knack for lighting up places where darkness has come to dwell, so her presence in a town cowering under her aunt’s thumb is a refreshing game-changer.

In addition to giving this tale a more modern setting, director Debbie Allen and writer William Blinn give it a deeper impact by segregating the Alabama town of Harrington and making young Polly the means to integration. Celeste Holm is the cantankerous but secretly sweet Miss Snow, a name that is particularly appropriate here since she is generally considered the white version of the elder Polly, known to most of the townsfolk as Miss Harrington. She resides on the other side of a creek that was briefly covered by a bridge, but it burned down under mysterious circumstances shortly after it was built, deepening the divide between the two segments of town. Pollyanna already satisfies my deep longing for redemption stories, but the added dose of reconciliation makes this version especially powerful to me.

Rashad provides narration at the beginning and end, explaining that this is the story of a child who helped to build a bridge. The warmth in her voice allows us a foretaste of the thawing that occurs as the movie progresses. Though her demeanor is icy, this Polly never comes across as cruel. Instead, it’s apparent that she is someone who has built walls around herself in a gesture of self-preservation. While she speaks sternly to her niece at times, flickers of affection are apparent as well, and her slow return to romance with old beau Dr. Shannon, played with charm and a dazzling smile by Dorian Harewood, is complex and touching.

Aside from Holm, this is a film with an entirely black cast, and the musical numbers are largely reflective of Gospel and rhythm and blues. Several exuberant songs exist mainly for their own sake as the characters bask together in the joy of music, though a few quieter numbers are there primarily for character development.

The voices are great, as well as natural-sounding. I particularly appreciate that Polly is permitted to sing like a little girl, in a soft, sweet voice instead of trying to sound grown-up and glamorous with excessive runs and a brassy tone. Her Rainbow Maker, which she shares with Rashad and Vanessa Bell Calloway as affable maid Nancy, is a melodic treasure that incorporates one of the story’s most memorable elements, the prisms that scatter rainbows across the home of grumpy old Eben Pendergrass, played with dignity and a twinkly eye by Brock Peters. My favorite song, though, is probably the doo-wop number Sweet Little Angel Eyes, which includes wonderful harmonies and fancy footwork and cements Polly’s friendship with mischievous orphan Jimmy Bean (Brandon Quintin Adams).

I’m so happy that this movie is finally available on DVD, albeit exclusively through the Disney Movie Club and Disney Movie Rewards, as well as second-hand sources. Watching it was a delightful blast from the past, and I was excited to learn that the movie had a sequel, Polly Comin’ Home, which I am eager to check out soon. If you loved the 1960 version of Pollyanna, give Polly a try; I have a hunch it will make you just as glad.

It May Come As No Surprise, But Ostriches Are Oddities I Adore

With the exception of small stinging insects, I love animals of all kinds, but there are a few for which I have a special fondness. One of those is the ostrich, which my friend Libbie knows very well, so when she ran across the educational picture book But Ostriches…, written by Aileen Fisher and illustrated by Peter Parnall, she tucked it away to give me for Christmas.

Like many thrift store finds, this is an older book. It hails from 1970 and is black and white except for the cover, which includes variations of green and orange. The pictures are detailed line drawings not only of ostriches but also of many other birds. That’s because this book educates about ostriches by first educating about other types of birds.

Fisher gives examples of actions undertaken by certain birds then follows it with the title words. Some birds fly, but ostriches don’t. Some birds are tiny, but ostriches are huge. Some birds sing, but ostriches are far from melodic. These comparisons are composed through intricate rhymes, and the verse has a punchy, humorous quality to it. I laughed aloud several times on my first read-through. The language is also very lyrical at times, utilizing devices like alliteration and metaphors to create a sense of serenity or excitement.

There’s no set rhyme or rhythm scheme; it changes from page to page. Nonetheless, the writing on each page is expertly crafted, and the variety just adds to the fun of the book. It has often been my experience that verse in books for young children is a bit sloppy, so it makes my soul smile to see picture book poetry that just sings as this does.

For instance, the book begins in the following fashion: “Over the elms / and over the willows, // Over the pools / and ponds and billows, // Over the hills / and heights and hollows // Woodpeckers fly, and gulls, and swallows.” It goes on for another eight lines before we turn a page and learn, “But ostriches / never / can fly at all. / They’re far too big / and their wings / too small.” The book also dispels some bird-brained myths, chiefly: “And they don’t, / by the way, / with danger at hand / go bury their heads / in the sunny sand.”

I was surprised at how much information was jam-packed into this small square book of about 40 pages. It covers method of movement, number of toes, height and weight, nesting habits, eggs, vocalization and suitability as pets, with several pages spent on most topics. In addition to the ostriches, the book specifically mentions woodpeckers, gulls, swallows, orioles, hawks, sparrows, hummingbirds, wrens, linnets, robins, bluejays, crows, frigate birds, eagles, buzzards, herons, owls, whooping cranes, trumpeter swans, flickers, albatrosses, chickens, petrels, loons, larks, grouses, quail, canaries, parrots and mynah birds. Many other birds are referenced generally as part of a group such as songbirds or marshbirds.

I think it would be fun to publish a new edition of the book illustrated with full-color photographs of these fascinating animals. However, Parnall does an excellent job of capturing the beauty and awkwardness of the ostrich and its fellow feather-bearers. If you have a young ornithologist in your life or would just like to learn a bit more about birds yourself, But Ostriches… is a richly informative, intricately written and surprisingly entertaining resource.

Kate Hudson Becomes a Mom Overnight in Raising Helen

On a recent visit to my friend Libbie's house, I arrived right at the beginning of Raising Helen, a 2004 movie that I'd often seen advertised but had never watched. She, on the other hand, had watched it several times and found it very enjoyable, so we decided to watch it together. Directed by Garry Marshall, this lovely little film tells the tale of a free-spirited young woman whose life turns topsy-turvy after her sister and brother-in-law die in a car accident and she learns that her sister wanted her to have custody of their three kids.

Kate Hudson portrays Helen, who agrees to take in the trio. Heroes star Hayden Panettiere plays teenaged Audrey, who hopes her hip aunt will indulge her rebellious streak, while siblings Spencer and Abigail Breslin play Henry, a morbid boy with a pet turtle and a love of basketball, and Sarah, the adorable youngster who projects all her feelings onto her stuffed hippo.

There's a lot of gentle humor in the film as we see Helen struggle to adjust to a new way of life. As the baby of the family, she doesn't have much practice with child-rearing, so she has to wing it, with a little help from her formidable neighbor Nilma (Sakina Jaffrey) and her overbearing sister Jenny (Joan Cusack), who believes she should have guardianship instead.

One neat thing about this movie is seeing actors like Panettiere and Felicity Huffman, who plays Helen's doomed sister Lindsay, before they became television sensations. The film also features Hector Elizondo, who I always have found charming whenever I've encountered him on screen. In addition to the solid cast, it's a very sweet story. While there is an endearing romantic storyline, the most significant relationship development occurs among Helen, Jenny and the three children, whom both of them love dearly.

There were two aspects of this movie that really made me smile. For one thing, the movie takes place largely in Queens, and as soon as the borough was mentioned I got excited because Simon and Garfunkel were raised there, and I hoped that might yield a reference. Much to my delight, a scene near the middle of the film involves a trip to the zoo with the backdrop of my favorite duo's At the Zoo.

Secondly, I am a lifelong Lutheran, and aside from Garrison Keillor's tales on Prairie Home Companion, we tend not to turn up much in media, unassuming folk that we are. Lars and the Real Girl, which beautifully expresses a grace-filled theological viewpoint, is one movie that specifically features Lutherans. This is another. In fact, Helen's love interest, Dan (John Corbett), is a Lutheran pastor.

I'm not sure why it took me so long to catch this movie, but I'm glad I finally did. A sweet film about family and the triumph of love over grief and seemingly impossible obstacles, Raising Helen raised my spirits.

A Big Sleepover Makes a Bigger Mess

I’ve been a VeggieTales fan for nearly two decades now, and while I am most familiar with their videos, I have also enjoyed their books when I run across them. One such book is The Big Sleepover, a book in the Mess Detectives series that my friend Libbie gave me as a gift a while back. Written by Doug Peterson and illustrated by Ron Eddy and Robert Vann, it features narrator Larry the Cucumber and his partner in crime-squashing, Bob the Tomato, as Dragnet-style detectives.

The illustrations in this book veer closer to the style of the main video series than the flatter design found in many of the books. These pictures have vibrant color and depth of shading, and all of the characters look about the way I would expect. My only issue with the pictures is that Larry makes a couple of references to his pet badger’s overly long claws, but the badger in the pictures doesn’t appear to have claws at all. Then again, aside from his changing expressions, he appears to be a stuffed animal, so maybe kids are meant to see the badger as Larry’s favorite toy and attribute any of his actions that Larry describes as mere products of an overactive imagination.

The story is cute, if a bit silly. Madame Blueberry has been babysitting four youngsters who made a horrific mess during their sleepover at her house. One wonders why she didn’t call their parents instead of a detective agency, but then she always has been a bit of a drama queen. Aside from this initial overreaction, she appears surprisingly calm throughout the story. Her concern is not for her broken furniture but rather for the boys’ moral fortitude.

The point of the story is that when you have done something wrong, it’s best to fess up. From there, you can seek forgiveness and look for ways to make up for it. This is a good message, and I like the fact that mercy and forgiveness are so heavily emphasized. None of the adults berates the boys for their mistakes. They simply encourage and reward truthfulness, while suggesting ways to clean up their mess.

The Dragnet spoof aspect is fun, with the punchy wordplay and references to catchphrases from the show, though I wonder if most kids would get that humor. Without the context, I would imagine some of it would fall a bit flat. Of course, that’s always a danger when it comes to parodies. I imagine that the other books have the same sort of devices, so at least there would be consistency within the series.

While I’ve rarely found VeggieTales books to be as effective as the videos, given the lack of silly voices and catchy music and limited opportunity for visual humor, the book works well for the format, and kids who enjoy these characters should have fun seeing Larry and Bob crack a case and spread goodwill.

A Little Help Needs A Little Help

I’m a fan of The Office, particularly the sweetness of couple Jim and Pam, but while I have seen John Krasinski in other roles, I’d never seen Jenna Fischer in anything else. Hence, I was intrigued when my friend Libbie rented A Little Help, the 2010 Michael J. Weithorn movie in which Fischer stars as overwhelmed mom Laura Pehlke.

Fischer brings a darkness to this role that we never see in The Office. When the movie begins, Laura is not a happy person. Her pre-teen son Dennis (newcomer Daniel Yelsky) seems to hate her, and her husband Bob (Chris O’Donnell) is distant. She wants to improve both those relationships, but a few minutes into the movie, Bob dies of an arrhythmia, and she has to learn how to manage as a single mom on shaky financial ground. Just about the only person she can turn to who isn’t trying to run her life for her is her gentle brother-in-law Paul (Rob Benedict), who has loved her since childhood.

This movie is billed as both comedy and drama, but most of the funny moments were too painful for me to laugh at. It’s populated with profoundly miserable people, and bad things keep happening to them. It’s a deeply uncomfortable film, starting with the fact that several scenes take place in the dentist’s office where Laura works. Additionally, it’s set in New York City and begins nearly a year after September 11, 2001, an event central to the film as Dennis, having been forced by his overbearing Aunt Kathy (Brooke Smith) and grandma (Lesley Ann Warren) to attend a new school several towns away, tells his new classmates that his father was a firefighter who saved several people at the World Trade Center before perishing.

It’s a movie filled with broken relationships. The healthiest one we see is that between Paul and his 15-year-old son Kyle (Zach Page), an aspiring musician, and that is threatened by Kathy’s attempts to strong-arm Paul into discouraging Kyle’s music. Interestingly, music not only cements the bond between that father and son, one of Laura’s happiest memories involves singing along to the car radio with Dennis, an activity he usually considers too uncool now.

On the other hand, noise is a consistent source of stress in Laura’s life, from the parrot squawking at the office to the dog constantly barking outside. When Dennis has something he really wants to tell her, he sends her an IM; he’s noticed that she tunes him out along with the rest of it. One of the film’s most powerful moments comes when Dennis releases his neighbor’s dog in an effort to relieve his mother of his incessant barking. Laura runs after the pooch, calling him by name, and he meekly returns to her, whimpering. This seems deeply symbolic of her relationship with her son, whose angst and audacious lies are just his way of reaching out in a world where the person he needs most usually appears indifferent or hostile.

It’s interesting to see Fischer in such a different role, which she occupies well, though it takes most of the movie for Laura to become truly sympathetic. Benedict brings a higher likability factor to Paul, the most endearing character in the movie, but in some ways his story is the most pathetic of all. This is a film about rebuilding broken relationships; none of the three marriages we see is particularly successful, and the parent-child rifts sting. By the end, some measure of healing has begun, but is it enough? Despite touching scenes involving three significant people in Laura’s life, the conclusion, like the rest of the movie, left me feeling empty. I’m not sure if the film failed or if I just wasn’t the right audience, but aside from a few lovely glimmers, A Little Help left me out in the cold.

A Big Story Causes Major Stress in The Paper

When I was in college, I worked on the campus newspaper, first as a staff writer and eventually as the editor of the news section. Since then, I have written regularly for two other newspapers. Hence, I can relate somewhat to the stress exhibited in the 1994 Ron Howard movie The Paper, though none of my stories has had such high stakes as the one main character Henry (Michael Keaton) is trying to break.

This movie, which was written by brothers David and Stephen Koepp, takes place over the course of one very hectic day. Two lower-class black teenagers stand accused of murdering a white businessman. The audience knows it isn’t true, but Henry and his fellow reporters can only guess in pursuit of the truth. It would be easier to assume guilt, but if they can uncover a conspiracy and help clear innocent young men in the process, surely that’s worth the extra hassle, right?

This movie shows all the stresses that go into putting together a daily newspaper and the toll that it takes on the most dedicated reporters. Henry is one of those, a workaholic whose commitment to a newspaper that hasn’t always treated him very well frustrates his wife Martha (Marisa Tomei), a former reporter on the verge of giving birth, though she helps him pursue his story, as does cheerful renegade Michael McDougal (Randy Quaid), despite the displeasure of bulldoggish Alicia Clark (Glenn Close), the second-in-command who just wants to go to press on time since expensive delays could sink the struggling newspaper.

There’s a manic quality to the movie that made it hard for me to follow at first. It’s loaded with characters, many of whom are played by A-list actors. There are also several New York City personalities who turn up as themselves, and Howard’s parents, wife and brother all get cameos. This turns the movie viewing into a fun game of Spot the Star but distracts a bit from the plot, at least initially, though I found it easier to get into once I’d been watching for a while.

The tug among strong forces like integrity, business savvy and family makes it compelling as the characters face very difficult choices, while the sometimes absurdist solutions keep the laughter coming. Meanwhile, side stories add to the more serious overtones, particularly the quest of ailing editor-in-chief Bernie White, played by the always-excellent Robert Duvall, to reconcile with his estranged daughter.

The movie is rated R with good reason, particularly when it comes to language and violence. I wouldn’t recommend it for younger audiences, but high schoolers considering careers in journalism might want to have a look and see what they might be getting into. This movie shows the intense frustration that can arise from working in the newspaper business. However, it also celebrates the exultation of a job well done.

Aspiring Artists Should Not Take Lessons From Bucket of Blood

One day several months ago, my parents and I returned home to find my brother Nathan's head on the porch. We had scarcely recovered from our shock when we encountered Nathan's head again, this time attached to his shoulders, as he explained that this eerily lifelike bust was a school project he'd finally toted home from college. Over the next few months, he painted it and left it out on the deck to be weathered by the elements, creating a rugged representation of himself that took first place in the sculpture division of Panorama, an annual Erie art show.

Nathan is a sculptor. Walter, the main character in cheesy 1959 horror flick A Bucket of Blood, is not.

The film, written by Charles B. Griffith and directed by Roger Corman, stars Dick Miller as a nondescript waiter who's tired of feeling like a nobody. When he accidentally kills his landlady's cat, it seems like one more stroke of bad luck for a guy who can't catch a break. Then, something unexpected happens. Some bohemians from the café where he works spy the cat which he has encased in plaster as a cover-up and deem him a great artist. He begins receiving accolades - and demands for a follow-up piece.

The low production values and absurd premise help make this movie too silly to be scary, which is the only way I can stomach horror. Walter is actually a sympathetic protagonist, at least at first, but his lust for acceptance and acclaim brings out the worst in him. The movie also seems to critique the pretentiousness artsy types sometimes possess. Here, they all latch onto this hip new artist with his hyper-realistic sculptures, and one gets the impression that most of them think his work is cool simply because the others do.

While most of the beatniks are presented in a shallow light, Carla (Barboura Morris) has more depth, and she relates to Walter as a friend rather than a commodity - or an oddity. While she may be one of Walter's most ardent supporters, she is also one of the first to realize that something about this "artist" is amiss. Unfortunately, by that time, he has set his sights on her, and he has grown used to getting what he wants. Is her sweet spirit about to be rewarded with a taste of terror?

The story and main characters are engaging, and I also love the wry spoof of the contemporary counter-culture, particularly through the out-there Maxwell (Julian Burton). As a Glenn Yarbrough fan, I was tickled to hear a folk song performed by a man with a remarkably similar style; a bit of research informed me that he was Alex Hassilev - and he'd been in a band, the Limeliters, with Yarbrough.

If I could stomach this movie, I reckon most squeamish folks wouldn't have a problem with it. It's more goofy than grotesque, and it may make you appreciate the true artists in your life all the more.

Clark Griswold's Christmas Vacation Is Laced With Disaster

My boyfriend Will and I immersed ourselves in a multitude of Christmas movies this past holiday season, and since we watched some of them alone and some with my parents or a friend, a couple flicks got covered twice. One of those was the wacky 1989 classic National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Along with A Christmas Story, this is the movie I most often see referenced by people whose stomachs turn at the steady trickle of treacle provided by so many holiday films. I’m a sucker for sap, so I never mind, but I can see how this movie written by John Hughes and directed by Jeremiah S. Chechik would appeal to those who consider Christmas primarily a hassle.

As he does in several other movies in the series, Chevy Chase stars as lovable schmuck Clark Griswold. Clark just loves Christmas, and he’s over-the-moon excited that he finally gets to host a big celebration of his own. His level-headed wife Ellen (Beverly D’Angelo) and embarrassed kids Rusty (Johnny Galecki) and Audrey (Juliette Lewis) aren’t so thrilled. Not only do they have to deal with his impractical extravagance, they must navigate the inconveniences posed by two sets of grandparents and an uninvited redneck cousin.

I’m always one to cringe at wanton mayhem, so I’m not wild about all the destructive sequences in this movie, though some of them do make me laugh. As an animal lover, there is one scene in particular that I find distasteful, and as obnoxious as they are, I do feel a little sorry for the neighbors played by Nicholas Guest as Seinfeld’s Julia Louis-Dreyfus, as they most often fall victim to Clark’s tinkering. From the oversized tree and the malfunctioning lights to the super-powered sled and the Christmas Eve hostage crisis, just about every mishap in this movie is a result, directly or indirectly, of Clark’s tendency toward excess.

Yet it is that youthful enthusiasm that makes him such a lovable character. Clark adores his family and still finds Christmastime magical. He wants everyone to share in the joy that he feels. As his big plans go further and further off the rails, he goes off the deep end, but it’s hard to imagine how anyone could do otherwise in that situation. Hence, while almost everything goes wrong in this movie, it doesn’t really feel like a cynical response to Christmas.

Clark’s heart is as expansive as his yard display, as the scenes he shares with little Ruby Sue (the adorable Ellen Hamilton Latzen) show especially well. Similarly, Randy Quaid brings a lot of sweetness to the role of Ruby Sue’s loose cannon of a dad, Eddie. He may cause everyone a heap of headaches, but in a pinch, he’s an awfully loyal friend.

I wouldn’t list this movie among my Christmas favorites, but it definitely has its own oddball charm, and I’ve little doubt that I will check in with the Griswolds during Decembers yet to come.

Not Quite Proof of Heaven, But An Intriguing Account

Back in October, I paid a visit to my grandparents. While I was there, we watched an episode of Katie Couric's talk show in which she invited guests who reported having had near-death or mystical experiences, and my grandpa lent me a couple books collecting stories of people who believed they had gotten a glimpse of a deeper reality. The theme seemed to permeate my visit, so I was intrigued when one of the first things I saw upon my return home was my dad's latest Newsweek, the cover of which pointed to an excerpt of a book written by a neurologist claiming Proof of Heaven.

I read the excerpt and decided to order the book by Dr. Eben Alexander. After all, not only did it feel like kismet after I'd encountered the subject so much at my grandparents', but accounts of that type have always fascinated me. Alexander's is particularly interesting because he approaches it from a scientific perspective. While the book is mostly written in layman's terms, it is informed by his years of study and skepticism. It attempts to reconcile faith and science in a meaningful way, though he uses very little specific religious terminology throughout the book.

I found Alexander's style accessible and enjoyable, albeit a bit hard to follow at times as he tends to follow a very nonlinear format. He spends a lot of time discussing his conflicted feelings about having been adopted and the emotions that swirled up in him when he first made contact with his biological family. He also discusses what was happening in the hospital while he was in a coma brought on by a particularly nasty form of meningitis, and he talks about the impact that his experience while in the coma had upon his life. What he doesn't really discuss in great detail is the experience itself. That part of the account is moving but brief, and the book includes few details that weren't covered in the excerpt.

What Alexander does share is intriguing, particularly as he ties it in with quantum physics and the idea that sheer materialism offers a deeply limited view of the cosmos. His description of love as the very fabric of the universe is moving and comforting, and I was particularly interested in his immersion in an almost tangible harmony and how that enriched his experience when he returned church after a long absence. He notes that he is an Episcopalian but that prior to his experience, the religious conviction he once felt had dimmed considerably. I would have been interested in hearing more about how he viewed his renewed childhood faith in light of what he believed to be a close encounter with the divine.

Despite the audacious title, the evidence Alexander offers is still something that can't be corroborated except to the extent that his medical records clearly indicate that part of his brain shut down during his coma. It's also not among the most detailed NDE accounts I have read. I think the book promises more than it delivers in terms of recounting the actual experience and uses repetition and rumination to mask the fact that the meat of the story is only maybe three or four chapters. Nonetheless, it does offer a specific viewpoint that makes it an unusual offering in this particular niche. While it's more anecdote than evidence, it opens up the conversation in an interesting way and is well worth a look for those who are drawn to these types of accounts.

It's Not Quite Pitch Perfect, But Still An Enjoyable Movie

My friend Libbie and I have watched GLEE together many times, so the 2012 movie Pitch Perfect seemed like a natural movie choice for a recent girls’ night in. This Jason Moore-directed comedy based on the book by Mickey Rapkin is set on the campus of a college where some of the students take music very seriously. The primary focus is on the Bellas, a girls’ a cappella group struggling to rebound from a disastrous national performance the year before.

While the movie zeroes in on various students at different points, the central character is rebellious freshman Beca (Anna Kendrick), who dreams of being a music producer. It takes a lot of persuasion to get her to join the group, but once she does, she becomes a major source of energy and innovation, much to the displeasure of controlling group leader Aubrey (Anna Camp), whose mishap necessitated a fresh approach this year.

Brittany Snow is quite charming as Aubrey’s best friend Chloe, the only other returning Bella and the one who quickly recognizes Beca’s skill as a vocalist. Easily the sweetest of the bunch, she is much easier to take than Aubrey, whose obnoxious attitude usually cancels out sympathy for her unfortunate tendency to throw up when nervous. This running gag is probably my least favorite aspect of the movie, since they go to great pains to make the barf as absurdly exaggerated as possible, a la Airplane. The result is too gross to be funny, at least to me.

While none of the other humor is that grotesque, I did find a lot of it too low-brow or catty to really make me laugh, but there are some genuinely funny moments, particularly involving Australian breakout star Rebel Wilson as self-assured vocalist Fat Amy and Hana Mae Lee as the quiet, creepy Lilly. The film also has some sweet moments of blossoming friendship among fellow outcasts, as well as the slow-building romance between Beca and movie enthusiast Jesse (Skylar Astin), whose uber-geeky roommate Benji (Ben Platt), avid magician and collector of Star Wars memorabilia, is probably my favorite character in the movie.

Of course, given the theme of the movie, there’s a lot of singing here, and most of it is quite good despite the fact that there are a couple of songs we hear ad nauseam. A rivalry between the Bellas and the all-male Treblemakers, of which Jesse is a part, adds drama to the movie, and it’s fun to hear the arrangements that they come up with. As a penner of filksong lyrics, I was also fascinated to hear Beca discuss the process of creating mash-ups, which similarly involves finding the common ground between two seemingly unrelated things and fusing them together. In the case of mash-ups, both song theme and chord progressions come into play, often with very creative and pleasing results.

A cappella music and choral groups in general have experienced increased popularity in recent years thanks to shows like GLEE and groups like Straight No Chaser, and those who get a kick out of those tight-knit harmonies might want to give this movie a try, though they should be warned that much of the comedy is crude, albeit only at a PG-13 level. Additionally, it definitely feels informed by GLEE, but it’s hard to say whether it spends more time celebrating or mocking the spirit of that show. There’s certainly a tongue-in-cheek tone to the movie, but at its most earnest, it demonstrates the power of music to unite even the most different of individuals.

Open This Little Book and Find a Reading Rainbow

My friend Dan shares my love of great picture books, so when he finds one, he always makes a point of alerting me. This year for Christmas, he gave me Open This Little Book, a simple but clever book written by Jesse Klausmeier and illustrated by Suzy Lee.

The first thing I thought of when I read through this fun book was Cloud Atlas, as it has a similar recursive structure, albeit with much simpler contents. Indeed, there is very little text in the book except at its very heart. Nonetheless, there is enough there to give kids the gist of the idea and hopefully inspire not only further reading but further writing as well.

While Klausmeier is a first-time author, Korean artist Lee has received many accolades for her work, and it is the visual component of this book that is so striking. It begins after the title page, when we see a purple paperback book resting comfortably inside the larger hardcover. This interior book is slightly smaller, leaving a mostly-white border around it where the book returns to full-size at the end. Its cover is less complex but still incorporates most of the same elements as the cover proper.

The title is an instruction. Open the book, and you’ll find another, still smaller, book inside, this one entitled Little Red Book. Inside that is Little Green Book, which contains Little Orange Book, which houses Little Yellow Book, which conceals Little Blue Book and, finally, Little Rainbow Book. Each book introduces another character, and the two illustrations inside it show that character holding the next book in line. For instance, Rabbit, who first appears in the orange book, holds the yellow book in his paw.

The use of color in the book is wonderful. Each book has a solid color outline on the inside to which the next book reaches, so when you get to the middle you have very defined white, purple, red, green, orange, yellow and blue boxes. While the order is not quite that of the rainbow spectrum, the basic colors are there, and it’s very pleasing to the eye.

Additionally, the color subtly enforces the idea that every book we read expands our knowledge. The first illustration inside the purple book is black and white except for the red book. In the next illustration, however, red is used extensively, while the only other color is green, which is only used to show the book Ladybug is reading. This continues, with each book incorporating more colors.

When they double back on themselves, each of them closing his or her book in turn, the illustrations on the right-hand side of the books are drenched with color. Rabbit now has a yellow umbrella; Ladybug is surrounded by leafy greenery. Their worlds are brighter because of what they have gained by reading.

That message is more overtly stated at the very end of the book as well, since it explicitly instructs children to open another book after they have closed the last of the mini-books. The final illustration is a joyous celebration of the wonders of reading, with all of the book’s characters and many others happily sprawled around a beautiful bookcase fashioned out of a pair of entwined trees. That design emphasizes the sense of connection that runs through the book (or, rather, series of books). Stories are something we share with each other.

This book is a delight to peruse, and I can easily picture some children wanting to try creating a book like this themselves. I’m certain my artistic brother would have enjoyed such a task had he encountered such a book as a kid. Children might also have fun identifying all of the animals featured in the final picture and imagining what each of them could be reading.

As someone who grew up with both Star Trek: The Next Generation and Reading Rainbow, I was intrigued by Klausmeier’s decision to dedicate the book in part to LeVar Burton. She offers no explanation, but I suspect the latter show has something to do with it. After all, she, too, is telling reader to take a look in a book, and in this case, the contents are colorful indeed.

Christian Bale Suits Up for the First Time in Batman Begins

When The Dark Knight came out in 2008, one of the reasons I was interested in it despite the violence the trailers portended was that I’d seen part of Batman Begins and liked it. This month, I watched the first movie in Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy and realized just how little of it I’d actually seen. Nonetheless, I did find it an enjoyable movie, much more so than the second.

Batman Begins is like The Dark Knight Rises in that it spends a lot of time getting into the head of Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale). While the focus of The Dark Knight is a bit different, these two movies make natural bookends. We see several flashbacks to Bruce’s childhood, during which he is tormented with anxiety over the bats that live in a cave on the grounds of Wayne Manor. This terror ultimately has deadly consequences, leading him to revisit it as an adult and use it to face more monstrous villains, including an unlikely but terrifying foe who preys on people’s deepest fears.

Batman is a dark superhero forged through tragedy, and we see a lot of that brooding angst here. However, we also see the strength of his moral principles, which were instilled in him by his parents. While he struggles with a desire for revenge, his refusal to become a bloodthirsty vigilante plays an important role in his development, particularly in regard to Ducard (Liam Neeson), the martial arts master from whom he receives extensive training during a lengthy absence from Gotham City.

The movie is very action-packed, with numerous explosions and altercations, but it also has quieter moments and bits of humor sprinkled throughout as welcome seasoning. Michael Caine is magnificent as his faithful butler Alfred, a father figure and devoted friend with a wry sense of humor, and Morgan Freeman is similarly enjoyable as inventor Lucius Fox, who provides Batman with all of his nifty gadgets. Meanwhile, Gary Oldman brings dignity and warmth to the role of kindhearted Jim Gordon, one of the few cops in Gotham City who is truly concerned about justice.

The screenplay by Nolan and David S. Goyer does a great job of establishing the complexities of Bruce’s motivation and the darkness of the city he aims to protect. The scenes in his childhood and early adulthood are particularly effective at making him sympathetic despite his aloof manner and tendency toward darkness. As childhood pal Rachel Dawes, Katie Holmes helps drive home the distinction between his noble aims and his sometimes excessive methods.

While I’m much more of a Superman fan, Nolan and these talented actors are very effective in bringing a unique vision of this iconic character to the big screen.

The Homecoming Introduces the Waltons to the World

Growing up, I watched The Waltons occasionally, though never enough to feel a deep sense of familiarity with the characters. Still, I found the homespun charm of the show endearing and was intrigued when my boyfriend Will suggested watching The Homecoming, the movie that started it all.

The television movie features the same cast of children as the series, along with the same grandma. The most noticeable cast difference is that Olivia Walton, the mother of the large family, is played by Patricia Neal. Aside from John-Boy, who is portrayed by gangly, lovable Richard Thomas, Olivia is the character given the most attention as she struggles to mask her anxiety over her husband’s late return from an out-of-town job on Christmas Eve.

Like many Christmas movies, this is a heartwarming tale of family togetherness. The hardscrabble setting of a farm during the Depression makes the economy a major source of conflict. These are good salt-of-the-earth people who must work tirelessly and support each other in order to survive. While the driving concern in the film is why John is late and whether he is all right, it also deals with the children’s individual fears and frustrations, particularly John-Boy’s desire to strike out on his own and become a writer and Mary-Ellen’s (Judy Norton) teen angst.

The heart of the special is in the family, particularly the close-knit but chaotic ensemble of the seven children. While the Waltons are simple people trying to scrape out a living, they still have hopes and dreams, and the children have plenty of silliness in them. Kami Cotler is particularly adorable as the tiny Elizabeth, whose innocent remarks rarely fail to elicit laughter.

The movie also deals with various other members of the community, the most colorful of which are the mildly batty Baldwin sisters Mamie (Josephine Hutchinson) and Emily (Dorothy Stickney), elderly spinsters who sustain themselves by selling their father’s famous bootleg whiskey. One of the best scenes in the movie involves John-Boy and vivacious preacher Hawthorne Dooley (Cleavon Little) attempting to coax a favor out of these feisty ladies. Hawthorne, incidentally, is strikingly contrasted with a sanctimonious missionary whose attempt to minister to the local children is both comical and nightmarish.

Anyone who enjoyed The Waltons should have a look at this movie that launched the series, even if it is a bit odd to see some of the familiar characters played by different actors. The spirit of the series is certainly present in this tale of individuals in hard times doing what they must to make it and helping each other to do the same. Based on the author’s own childhood experience, this wholesome yarn is ideal for cozy Christmastime viewing.

Santa Finds Some Unexpected Helpers in Oh, What a Christmas!

In Jerry Pallotta’s Who Will Guide My Sleigh Tonight? Santa runs through all sorts of trials with different animals before settling on the perfect creatures to pull his sleigh. In the more recent picture book Oh, What a Christmas!, Michael Garland posits a scenario in which Santa already knows which animals work best but must resort to using different species due to an accident.

Garland is a longtime illustrator, and it is his lavish artwork that drives this silly but sweet tale. The story is told with simple narration in a couple of paragraphs per page. Particularly noteworthy phrases like “BIG, FAT, JOLLY RED SKYROCKET” and onomatopoeia like “THUD! STOMP! THWACK!” jump out at the reader in extra-large print and capital letters. Santa speaks from time to time, usually peppering his dialogue with “ho”s, but the reindeer are silent, as are the animals that come into the story soon afterward.

The book consists mostly of full-page illustrations and two-page spreads filled with vibrant colors and intricate shading. The tale begins with Santa and his reindeer embarking on their Christmas Eve ride, only to have a straightforward night thwarted when the harness breaks, causing the deer to be separated from Santa and the sleigh to crash. Santa lands near a barn, and it is there that he finds his replacements: two sheep, two cows, a horse, a pig, a goat and a hound dog. The main fun of the story is seeing these ordinary animals in the extraordinary situation of guiding Santa’s sleigh.

The animals have a fairly realistic look to them while still being slightly cartoonish, particularly in their eyes, which are large and white with small black pupils, each with a pinprick of light in it. Santa, too, has such eyes, along with rosy cheeks and a bulbous nose. His beard and mustache are silky white, and his suit looks quite cozy. Santa is very jolly-looking, while the animals spend much of their time looking gently confused. Some of the facial expressions are quite comical.

As stories go, this one isn’t too complicated, but it is sweet, since it allows a ragtag team of farm animals to do something amazing and to help Santa out of a jam. There’s a general sense of goodwill about the tale and a warm glow in several of the illustrations that would feel at home in a Thomas Kinkade painting. For young children who enjoy animals, this book offers a fun twist on a Christmas tradition.

A Bad Kitty Christmas Is a Good Christmas Book

I imagine that most cat owners have entertained the thought that they have a bad kitty. After all, cats have an independent attitude and a knack for getting into mischief, and the holidays often bring out the worst in them since there are so many opportunities to cause trouble. That is certainly the case in Nick Bruel’s A Bad Kitty Christmas, one of several books featuring a scraggly black car with a tuft of white fur on her chest and a sometimes-surly disposition.

This charming story is told through rhyme. It begins and ends as a parody of A Visit From St. Nicholas, but it’s a much longer narrative than that classic poem, and Santa Claus isn’t involved at all. Instead, this is the story of a mischievous kitty who makes a colossal mess, gets soundly scolded and decides to run away en route to the big family dinner. Along the way, she comes to realize how nice it is to have a home, even if people can be frustrating sometimes.

One very neat thing about this book is that it is an alphabet book, but instead of going through the alphabet once, as most books of that type do, it does so several times, and it is integrated organically into the story. The first time around, we get an alphabetical list of all the damage Kitty has done to the house, with one noun and one passive past tense verb in each short sentence. Each time the sentence’s star letter is used at the beginning of a word, it is in red and extra-large.

The second time, the featured letter is blue, and instead of a sentence per letter, it’s only a word or phrase, so this alphabet only takes up two pages. It lists all of the animals the ravenous Kitty wants to eat, and some of them are quite unusual, so there is an educational element to this one beyond the alphabet as children can learn about such creatures as cormorants, ibises, narwhals and quetzals. The two-page spread also features six amusing illustrations grouping the animals, so kids can have an instant idea of what they look like.

Finally, the third alphabet is a listing of various people appearing in photographs hanging on the Christmas tree of an elderly woman who finds Kitty after she runs away. While the first alphabet is funny and the second is educational, this third is poignant as it shows all of the people important in the woman’s life and helps Kitty to understand how much these bonds matter. There are also interesting little tidbits in there, such as the fact that “vriend” is the Afrikaans word for “friend.”

Another fun element of this book is the fact that shortly after Kitty runs away, the pup who lives with her also hops out of the car in order to conduct a search. After that point, many of the pages have a black-and-white inset showing how he is progressing on his journey as he sniffs her trail out and makes inquiries of any creature he sees. The main illustrations, by contrast, are vibrantly colored and sometimes presented in several panels per page. This is a very busy book, filled with a bustle of activity and sometimes several things happening at once. It’s also ultimately a very sweet book with a heartwarming conclusion that is likely to elicit as many smiles among parents as children.