Celtic Thunder's George Donaldson Spins Splendid Solo Story-Songs in The White Rose

Nearly three years ago, I became acquainted with Celtic Thunder, the PBS sensation consisting of several Irish singers and one burly bald Scotsman. The latter is George Donaldson, the oldest member of the group and the one with the most exceptional gift for conveying the heart of a story-song and connecting with an audience. I admire all of the lads of Celtic Thunder for different reasons, but George is the one who seems most in line with the folksy singer-songwriter style I esteem above all others. Hence, I was very excited to learn earlier this year that he would be releasing a solo album. Now that I’ve had some time to live with it, here are my impressions.

A Song for Harry Chapin - If I were to describe George Donaldson’s musical style in one word, I would call him a balladeer. I’ve heard few singers who can so skillfully draw the story out of a song, causing us to notice every detail and feel every emotion. Jim Croce was one such singer-songwriter; Harry Chapin was another. Knowing that George was blessed with the soul of a storyteller, I was eager to hear him sing his own words, and writing this tribute to one of his personal heroes and a giant of the genre feels like a most appropriate way to begin his own very story-filled album. His skillful turns of phrase are a delight but not a surprise.

I love the tenderness of this five-and-a-half-minute-long ode. Essentially broken into thirds, the first is a mellow, acoustic guitar-driven exploration of his own experience with Chapin’s music. During the middle of the song, the tempo increases and bass becomes prominent as he gives us a brief biographical sketch, discussing Chapin’s roots and his unique style. Finally, the end returns to the pace of the beginning, adding in a few minor chords that might have felt right at home in Cat’s in the Cradle as George sadly sings about Chapin’s death but notes his legacy. While I like the first portion best, as it feels most deeply personal, his passion is apparent throughout the track, which is my favorite of his original songs on this album. “He opened up my eyes to a new style of song, like a book or like a movie – and it lasted just as long. I followed every word he’d say; his songs blew my mind away. The world should hear his name and share his love.”

Beeswing - Running through much of Celtic music is the theme of wandering, and while more often than not the man is the one who doesn’t want to be tied down, in the case of this Richard Thompson ballad, the woman is the rover and the speaker is the poor sap who can’t hold on to the one he loves. Set in the late 1960s, the gypsy-flavored song has a very distinct rhythm accentuated by percussive guitar strums that give way to wind-like bursts of strings. The two instruments seem to exemplify the two points of view, with him wanting stability and her demanding freedom. A toe tapper enhanced in its last minute and a half by the yearning vocals of Erin Boyle and the Brendan Monaghan’s poignant pipes. “They say her rose is faded now, rough weather and hard booze. Well, maybe that’s the price you pay for the chains that you refuse.”

Glasgow - Another deep tradition in Celtic music is the hometown tribute. Fellow Celtic Thunder member Ryan Kelly included his own aching ode, The Village That They Call the Moy, on his debut solo album, so I’m pleased to see that George has done the same, particularly since so many of his posts have mentioned his devotion to Jinty’s, his favorite pub, where he has performed his music many times. He mentions its proprietor and regular visitors in his album acknowledgments, but actually hearing the name incorporated into a song is a kick. While he mentions his homesickness while he is on the road, the song’s overall tone is joyous pride. He loves Glasgow and wants to share its wonders with the world. Peppier than most songs of its type, this piano-driven ballad is another one brimming with affection. “With a heart that beats from deep within, so old but ever young, with a finger ever on the pulse, Glasgow, you’re my mother; I’m proud to be your son.”

On a Bus to St. Cloud - So many of the songs on this album are deeply rooted in a particular place. In the case of this melancholy Gretchen Peters song, it’s St. Cloud, Minnesota, though wrapped up in the song is the sensation of movement, of drifting along aimlessly. At one point, the song takes the speaker to New Orleans. The faint bagpipes in the background complement the legato piano and eerily beautiful images, creating an overall sensation of loss and confusion. “And you chase me like a shadow, and you haunt me like a ghost, and I hate you some, and I love you some, but I miss you most.”

The White Rose - This title track, written by George, is yet another tribute, this time to Sophie Scholl, a 21-year-old college student of deep faith and firm principles who, for eight months, joined her brother Hans and friend Christoph Probst, among others, in a leaflet campaign encouraging passive resistance to Hitler and the Nazi regime. I’m ashamed to say that I had never heard of this courageous young woman or the covert club of which she was a part, but the heroism its members displayed has been publically acknowledged, and one German magazine even ranked Scholl the greatest woman of the 20th century. Facing the lyrics in the liner booklet is a photograph of the three friends in 1942; she in the middle, a flower in front of her, gazes steadily ahead as if bracing for the trouble to come.

The song has a perilous edge to it, having a bit of a galloping sound as if to indicate pursuit. The guitar, piano and strings come together to create an aura of danger as George sharply recounts the terror of that time. The slightly minor tone adds to the sense of tragedy, yet there is also a flicker of triumph in his delivery as he sings of Sophie’s belief, asserted just moments before their execution by guillotine, that their resistance would inspire others. A worthy subject of the title song. “Even though we know our cause is righteous and the price of failure brings the highest cost, if a thousand were to wake and take our actions, then our lives will never truly have been lost.”

Burlington - George breaks his pattern here by having two original songs in a row. I’m assuming that this one is autobiographical; he’s certainly had his share of travel nightmare stories, and it seems he has a special affection for Canada, so I can easily imagine him expressing a desire to be playing a favorite venue near Toronto instead of being stuck in a Detroit airport. This song seems to fit in with the likes of Paul Simon’s Homeward Bound and Bob Seger’s Turn the Page in expressing the malaise of a traveling musician, yet there is definite affection for an appreciative audience. The Dan Fogelberg line from Same Old Lang Syne contrasting the heavenly audience with the pernicious nature of tour travel springs to mind right away. Boyle resurfaces here to add her vocals, while Plunkett McGartland’s fiddling provides a bittersweet undercurrent. “I should be playing on the stage at 9 or 10 o’clock with the thunder passing overhead as the plane begins to dock. I’m thinking to myself, ‘It won’t be long till we’re away,’ but the plane got redirected; now it’s gone out to L.A.”

Safe in the Harbour - The first song I heard George sing was Johnny Duhan’s The Voyage, which uses sailing as a metaphor for marriage. It felt very fitting, then, to find a song so rich in nautical imagery here, particularly since it was penned by Eric Bogle, the poet behind Green Fields of France, one of Celtic Thunder’s most hauntingly harmonious ensemble ballads. This is the first song on the album not to be tethered to a particular place, and at first glance, especially at the verses, it seems less a ballad than a general reflection upon the nature of dreamers as opposed to materialists. Read at that level, the artistry of the words is enough to make it one of the most potent songs of its type that I have heard – and as a dreamer myself, I’ve sought out and heard many.

However, it turns out that this song, too, is a tribute. In this case, it’s more about capturing the general spirit of the man who died, allowing listeners to feel a kinship with him before they realize he is being memorialized. This young man was Canadian singer-songwriter and maritime enthusiast Stan Rogers, who died at the age of 33 in a horrific fire aboard Air Canada Flight 797 in Cincinnati. Hence, the tenderness in George’s voice in this direct address that ripples over the gentle guitar and piano like morning breeze upon a calm sea speaks directly to the loss of this gifted musician with so much more to offer. Nonetheless, the listener can take the “you” to heart as an invitation to follow in his idealistic footsteps. My favorite cover on the album. “So when storm clouds come sailing across your blue ocean, hold fast to your dreaming for all that you’re worth, for as long as there’s dreamers, there will always be sailors, bringing back their bright treasures from corners of Earth.”

Halifax Town -This traditional-sounding original lament commemorates the Battle of Culloden, the 1745 conclusion of the Jacobite Rising that pitted Scots, mostly highlanders, against the reigning British monarchy. Over a low drone of bagpipes augmented by lively whistles, George sings in the voice of a man who survived the battle but lost his family and is now forced to abandon his homeland for the Canadian city of Halifax. The tone isn’t quite as caustic as what we hear in George’s cover of disenfranchised factory workers’ anthem Yesterday’s Men, but he gives off a mingled sense of anger and grief. “And they forced us with famine and torture to run, to leave our own country and never return. They denied us our culture, our language, our dress; they’ve taken the land where our ancestors rest.”

Hierarchy Blues - Once again we have two George originals in a row. The snarling indignation of Yesterday’s Men roars back here, as do the pipes from the last track. This is a rant against materialism, complacency and, most of all, unearned senses of superiority. It serves as a warning against lording one’s fortunes over others, detailing the pitiful phenomenon of a soul deteriorating as more wealth is accumulated. A searing social statement. “That daily life we deem as normal could make another man a king. The more that we believe we own, the more we’re losing everything.”

Grace - My second-favorite of the covers on this album, Grace is the final song to pay tribute to a revered historical figure who died an early death. This one, written by Frank and Sean O’Meara, takes the perspective of Joseph Mary Plunkett, a 28-year-old Irish freedom fighter who was executed for his hand in the 1916 Easter Rising, but not before being allowed to marry his fiancée, artist Grace Gifford, hours beforehand. The gentle tone reminds me of the Irish Rovers’ Sam Hall; this man is about to be killed, but he doesn’t waste his last breaths spewing venom. In this song, he speaks directly to his new bride and soon-to-be widow, and the affection in George’s voice is palpable. The melancholy of the delicately plucked melody is augmented by the presence of the wistful fiddle. A truly tragic love story made all the more poignant by the symbolically loaded name of the addressee. “Oh, Grace, just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger. They’ll take me out at dawn, and I will die. With all my love, I place this wedding ring upon your finger. There won’t be time to share our love, for we must say goodbye.”

Let the Tears Flow - George wrote the final song on the album as well, and it makes an excellent bookend to the first track. While the album starts off with an acknowledgment of a musician who inspired him, this track seems to pass the baton to the listeners, encouraging them to become storytellers in their own right. Backed by understated piano with occasional harp by Joanna Bryne and vocals by Boyle, it softly but firmly urges anyone with a tale to tell to do so, undaunted by any obstacles that might lie in their path. As listening to this album gives me a great itch to sit down with a pencil and a piano or guitar and do some songsmithing of my own, I suspect the fine craftsmanship of these songs will be enough to stir many into poetic musings, rendering such an overt admonition unnecessary, but it certainly emphasizes the communal nature of folk music and brings the album full circle. “Find a start and find a middle. Let your courage find an end. Write your story clear and true. Let the ocean read the words you send.”

George’s album is available from CD Baby, and you can also find discussions of some of its contents on his website, George-Donaldson.com. From the intricate lyrics to the heartfelt vocals and the pensive expression gazing out from the photographic portraits included in the liner booklet, George presents himself exceptionally well here, and I hope that The White Rose will be only the first of many albums for this talented tale-weaver.

Take a Trip Back to the Hundred-Acre Wood With Winnie the Pooh

When I first heard about Winnie the Pooh, Disney’s sequel to 1977’s The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, I immediately realized that it would come out the same weekend as Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. How could I choose between the bear I’ve loved all my life and the wizard who took me on a magical literary journey lasting nearly a decade?

I do question the wisdom of Disney releasing Winnie the Pooh on that particular weekend, when any box office revenue would be dwarfed by one of the most anticipated movies in recent memory, but perhaps the thought was that it would fill the niche of children too young for Harry Potter. I was only able to catch one of the movies opening weekend, and I couldn’t resist the allure of Harry, but I caught up with Pooh and his friends this weekend. His adventure is far shorter and simpler, but it’s just as enjoyable in its own breezy way, at least for a lifelong fan like me.

It surprised me to hear Winnie the Pooh described as Pooh’s first time on the big screen since the 1970s. Other Pooh movies have been released in theaters, featuring the same basic look and several of the same cast members as Pooh’s first Disney outing, so I’m not sure why this one is considered so fundamentally different. Then again, it does feel more closely tied with Many Adventures, given the strong presence of the narrator and the frequent interaction with the book in which the stories reside. One scene makes particularly clever use of some letters that tumble into the tale.

There’s nothing revolutionary about this movie. Life in the Hundred-Acre Wood is very simple, with just a few basic problems that plague its residents time and again. Hence, Eeyore losing his tail is familiar territory, as is Owl misreading a note from Christopher Robin and sending everyone into a panic, Piglet facing his fear and Pooh running out of honey. Because of the leisurely pace and the repetitive nature of the stories, my guess is that many adults will find it a bit on the snoozy side despite the mere 70-minute length, and some kids might as well. One family in my showing actually left halfway through. You have to go into this movie with a certain mindset, accepting that its driving events are not going to be very adrenaline-inducing.

The movie reprises a couple of established songs and introduces several others, though most are short and forgettable. The most memorable is a fearsome description of the Backson, the beast that has allegedly kidnapped Christopher Robin. This sequence, accompanied by chalkboard illustrations, has a trippy edge to it reminiscent of the Heffalumps and Woozles sequence in the original film. The characters’ imaginations run away with them as they dream up all the dreadful things this monster does, and the song seems to invite post-movie creativity from children in the audience.

All of the voice actors are expressive and fit into their roles well, but most of the cast is new for this movie, and the differences take some getting used to. Jim Cummings continues to inhabit the role of Pooh perfectly, and he does an admirable job with Tigger as well, but Travis Oates’ voice is distractingly high as Piglet. The tone is about right, but the pitch makes it sound like he’s on helium. He’s been playing Piglet on My Friends Tigger and Pooh and related specials since John Fiedler’s death in 2007, but this is my first encounter with the new Piglet, and he hasn’t quite won me over yet. Tom Kenny takes over for Ken Sansom as Rabbit for the first time, and his voice sounds decidedly off as well. Bud Luckey fares better as despondent Eeyore; aside from sounding a bit too Southern at times, he seems like a good match for Peter Cullen. Wyatt Dean Hall is fittingly spunky as Roo, while Jack Boulter is a more refined but still boyish Christopher Robin, Kristen Anderson-Lopez makes a very maternal Kanga and John Cleese is a predictably fine narrator.

The standout cast member for me, though, is Craig Ferguson, who seems to be having the time of his life as the grandiloquent Owl. Having often watched Ferguson’s rambling monologues on The Late Late Show, I would say that the character is an ideal fit with his style, and I can’t help wondering whether he had the same sort of free improvisational rein that Robin Williams did with Aladdin. Owl similarly steals the show, getting most of the best lines and generally making more of an impression than any other character, even Pooh himself. Ferguson nails the essence of the character, striking a perfect balance of sophistication and silliness whether he’s composing his extensive memoirs or delivering a rousing speech of encouragement to Piglet as he embarks on a rescue mission that Owl could much more easily undertake himself. His insistence on using complicated vocabulary is a running joke throughout the movie as poor muddled Pooh tries to puzzle out his meaning, and I found myself reminded of Trixie Belden scratching her head over the overly complex proclamations of her older brother Mart. I’d love to see those two try to talk each other under the table.

While most of the movie is more likely to elicit a nostalgic smile than a hearty laugh, some scenes are quite funny, and most involve words in some way. Pooh and Eeyore’s misunderstanding of Owl’s use of the word “issue” and a discussion of knots that reminds me of Abbott and Costello’s Who’s On First? routine are a hoot, as is the way everyone’s speech becomes absurdly littered with the word “honey” when the rumbly in Pooh’s tumbly gets to be too much for him to bear. This movie paints Kanga as being easily annoyed by loud noises, which adds to the humor and makes her more prominent than usual. It also seems like a sly nod to the parents in the audience who can probably relate all too well with her desire for a little peace and quiet.

The movie also emphasizes the consideration the characters have for each other. When they believe Christopher Robin to be in danger, everyone steps up to the plate to help. When Eeyore gets left out of the main contingent’s plan to rescue him, Tigger takes him under his wing. Piglet braves the spooky forest and Pooh puts his craving for honey aside for the sake of their friends. That pervasive spirit of camaraderie, even more than the idyllic scenery and the lackadaisical lifestyle, is what makes the thought of a sojourn in the Hundred-Acre Wood so appealing.

Disney tends to reward viewers patient enough to sit through the credits, and that’s certainly the case here. To the tune of a charming new song by Zooey Deschanel, the credits roll, complete with animated tidbits as Pooh and his pals interact with the names scrolling down the screen. There’s even a final funny scene at the very end of the credits that is well worth the short wait.

Before the movie, meanwhile, we’re treated to The Ballad of Nessie, an old-school-style short warmly narrated in rhyme by Billy Connolly. Given Ferguson’s prominence in the movie – albeit with an upper crust British accent rather than his natural Glaswegian accent – I wonder if he was a factor in deciding to pair the film up with this short, which is largely a celebration of stereotypical Scotland. With a rustic, bagpipe-laced score reminiscent of Ashokan Farewell and nods to everything from thistles and tartans to golf and Braveheart, it has great appeal for those who love that country as much as I do. Nessie, with her rosy cheeks, long eyelashes and vaguely Wookiee-like voice, is adorable, as is her rubber duck companion, and the takeaway message is a worthwhile one.

My showing of Winnie the Pooh had an audience of about a dozen, and I doubt that was too atypical. It doesn’t have the same sort of blockbuster draw that Harry Potter or even a typical animated Disney feature does; despite the popularity of Pooh products, most consider the movies themselves to be the realm of the very young. However, if you’re still young at heart and if you ever wished you could blink yourself to the Hundred-Acre Wood for a day, I suspect you will find this outing with Pooh and his friends a pleasant return to beloved company.

Escape to Scotland With More Music From Braveheart

Today marks the release of Heritage, the first Celtic Thunder album to consist almost entirely of traditional Irish and Scottish music. I pre-ordered it, so it’ll probably be a couple of days before it lands on my doorstep. In the meantime, I’m getting my Celtic fix with More Music From Braveheart, the gorgeous Scottish-flavored soundtrack composed and conducted by James Horner and performed by the London Symphony Orchestra and the 1st Battalion Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders. Additionally, in a rather unusual move for a soundtrack, several tracks incorporate dialogue from the movie. It’s a follow-up to the original soundtrack, which I really ought to get my hands on one of these days. James Horner is one of my favorite composers, and I find his scores especially irresistible when he turns his attention to Celtic themes. Like his Titanic soundtrack, More Songs From Braveheart is a soul-stirring masterpiece.

Most of the tracks on this album incorporate dialogue, so if you plan to see the movie but haven’t yet, I wouldn’t recommend listening to this. However, some tracks will give you the flavor of the score without any potentially spoilerish speechifying. Outlawed Tunes on Outlawed Pipes is the first purely instrumental track, and the bagpipes, the instruments most readily associated with Scotland, weave a plaintive melody that in two short minutes effectively conveys the sense of longing felt by the beleaguered Scots, with faint drum beats hinting at the fierce battle to come. The brief Scottish Wedding Music has a fun, jaunty jig feel to it that dissipates into discord, while the whistle-heavy Prima Noctes feels mysterious and borderline mournful. Vision of Murron is quiet and melodious, with just a hint of the main musical theme, which is visited much more explicitly in the tender For the Love of a Princess, which is probably my favorite of the instrumental tracks despite the lack of bagpipes.

Point of War / Johnny Cope / Up in the Morning Early is a medley of traditional bagpipe music with a lively tone to it, sounding like something one might hear at a military tattoo. Similarly, The Road to the Isles / Glendaural Highlanders / The Old Rustic Bridge by the Mill is a bagpipe showcase, starting out on the slow side, then becoming almost playful before turning into a more solemn march that fades out. Scotland the Brave is one of the most instantly recognizable bagpipe songs out there, so it’s nice to have it here, and it’s performed well, though it feels like a bit of an afterthought, as do Leaving Glenhurqhart and Kirkhill, the final tracks on the album. These five tracks are all performed by the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders and consist entirely of bagpipes and drums.

The two characters most represented on the album are William Wallace, portrayed by Mel Gibson, and Robert the Bruce, played by Angus McFadyen. One of only two dialogue tracks that doesn’t include either of them is the creepy ”The Trouble With Scotland”, in which Patrick McGoohan as King Edward the Longshanks gives a 40-second spiel, free of accompanying music, announcing the plan to institute the custom of Prima Noctes in an effort to breed the Scots out. The other is The Legend Spreads, a pipe-heavy track in which various Scotsmen discuss the wild stories cropping up about William Wallace, the unassuming farmer-turned-fierce freedom fighter.

Robert the Bruce provides narration on four tracks. Prologue: “I shall tell you of William Wallace” is a haunting piece of music that starts off the album, and McFadyen’s quiet narration sets the stage for the epic tale to follow. His narration continues with The Royal Wedding, which starts off with him speaking before yielding to somber choral music. ”After the beheading” includes Robert’s reflection on William’s immediate legacy. Its stirring whistles continue into ”You have bled with Wallace!”, to be eventually replaced with triumphant-sounding pipes.

William shares the spotlight with other characters on several tracks. The Proposal, which introduces the film’s poignant main theme, is the only one to include Catherine McCormack as Murron, the love of William’s life. Romantic and playful, their dialogue and the gorgeous music that accompanies it is an oasis of simple joy in the midst of a terrifying time and is probably my favorite track. Conversing With the Almighty features dialogue only as William meets up with Stephen, Hamish and Campbell, men who will become staunch allies.

”Why do you help me?” is another music-less track and features a short, murmured conversation between William and the sympathetic Princess Isabelle, played by Sophie Marceau. She returns in ”Not every man really lives”, which begins with a conversation culminating in one of the film’s most memorable lines and before giving way to the music. Tender and wistful, the track rivals The Proposal for sheer loveliness. On ”The prisoner wishes to say a word”, he shares a bit of the limelight with the man holding him captive before bellowing out the word “Freedom”. The music surrounding this proclamation is achingly poignant.

Like Robert, William has four solo tracks. The first is ”Scotland is free!”, the shortest track, which includes no music and merely features William shouting his defiance to the English lords trying to exert their control over the Scottish people. By contrast, ”Sons of Scotland!” is the longest track at over 12 minutes in length. The instrumentation is varied, with the low rumble of war mingling with the high beauty of the ideals for which William and his countrymen are fighting. Around the three-minute mark, William begins speaking, starting off on a light note but building up into one of the most stirring rallying cries ever to turn up in a movie. The speech itself, which ends with the movie’s ferocious tagline of “They may take our lives, but they’ll never take our freedom!”, only lasts two minutes, but the bagpipe-heavy segment that follows it captures the epic nature of the battle that ensues. ”Unite the clans!” is another brief, non-instrumental track which finds William trying to talk Robert into taking on his rightful leadership position. The last track specifically tied to the movie is ”Warrior Poets”, which has William narrating the outcome of the Scots’ final surge against the English.

Anyone who enjoys Celtic music should appreciate the beauty of James Horner’s score, particularly the standout instruments. Tony Hinnegan plays the kena and whistle, Ian Underwood is in charge of synthesizers, Mike Taylor plays the Bodhran pipes and Horner himself plays the keyboards. As I wait for Heritage, I’m content to let Horner and his crew of talented musicians sweep me off to the Highlands.

Around Epinions: Get a Taste of Scotland and the Arts at Edinboro University

Back in 2001, I spent a weekend in Edinburgh, Scotland, with a classmate in a five-week summer program in Northampton, England. As our kilted tour guide led us through the city, my friend remarked on how neat it was to be in Edinburgh, as she was from Edinboro, Pennsylvania. I was somewhat surprised that, after visiting Dublin, London, Cambridge and a number of other fascinating cities, our time in Edinburgh turned out to be my favorite part of that five-week trip - though if our week-long stay in Galway hadn’t been cancelled, my conclusion might have been different. But it’s a gorgeous city, brimming with history, culture and natural beauty, not to mention oodles of appealing accents. Edinboro is no Edinburgh. But it’s still a pleasant town that I’ve gotten to know a lot better since my brother started attending college at the university there in 2006.

Edinboro is about a 40-minute drive away from where I live in Erie, Pennsylvania. That’s an easy distance for us to travel, especially on weekends, so we’ve made it out there many times. The campus is easy to navigate, and one of the things I like about it is that many of the streets have Scotland-themed names. Expect to see a lot of plaid when you go to Edinboro, and if you’re lucky (well, depending on your musical tastes), you might catch the sounds of bagpipes on a breeze. I have a couple of times, and it’s definitely added a smile to my day.

In addition to permanent fixtures of the campus that reflect a Scottish heritage, Edinboro has the Highland Games, a weekend event full of traditional food and music that offers opportunities to compete in such areas as dance, fiddle-playing and drumming, as well as rigorous sporting events. Usually, there seems to be at least a bit of rainy weather to go along with the festivities, but that doesn’t dampen many spirits. It’s a really neat tradition that helps establish Edinboro’s unique identity. The University also has a Pipe Band, and its fight song is a version of Scotland the Brave.

Edinboro attracts students from a wide variety of backgrounds and interests, but a particularly strong focus is art. That’s what attracted Nathan, who is majoring in Painting. He’s taken a number of intensive courses on subjects ranging from Print-making to Woodworking, which resulted in a handsome table that resided in our living room for most of last year. Now that he’s nearing the end of his time at Edinboro, he has the opportunity to display his work more prominently; in December, he had his own show in the Bates Gallery in Loveland Hall, which featured portraits he had done in various media. He has been extremely happy with his instructors in this area. Many of his fellow art students come to Edinboro with an interest in animation; the university has produced several graduates who went on to work for places like Disney, Pixar and Industrial Light and Magic. Edinboro University is also known for being extremely accessible to disabled students. Wheelchairs are a common sight, as it has one of the largest populations of handicapped students in the country.

Another area of interest for Nathan has been performing arts. This department is not as prominent as the visual arts, and the primary performance space, the Diebold Center for the Performing Arts is fairly small, though it is an attractive and comfortable theatre. He has had the chance to both act in and direct plays there, and I have always been impressed with the caliber of performances that we have seen from all students involved.

Currently, Edinboro’s president is Dr. Jeremy Brown. Hailing from Manchester, he has been at Edinboro a bit longer than Nathan has, and he has shown himself to be a passionate, hands-on leader, working tirelessly to promote the university in the greater Erie area and beyond. He’s also made an effort to get to know the students through a variety of campus events, and on the whole he has been the most visible president they’ve had in quite some time.

Edinboro University is home to about 8000 students, with about 400 faculty. It offers 15 intercollegiate sports and more than 100 different student organizations along with more than 100 degree programs and upwards of 50 minors. The 585-acre campus includes 43 buildings and scenic woods and fields, as well as a lake where Nathan often strolls to observe the ducks. While I’m still partial to my own college campus of Penn State Erie, the Behrend College, Edinboro is a very attractive place to visit, particularly during the autumn when all of the trees are changing color. Winter, on the other hand, can be problematic because Edinboro gets so much snow; on a few occasions, we’ve missed out on events because the weather was so prohibitive. Full-time tuition per semester ranges from about $3700 for an undergrad who is a PA resident to $6500 for a graduate student who is from out of state. On-campus housing is about $2400, while most meal plans cost upwards of $1000.

Near the campus are several other housing options; my brother has lived in two different apartment complexes and found both to be satisfactory. Away from campus, there are plenty of places to go in terms of shopping and eating. Perkins is a favorite hangout for college students, as are a couple of local pizza places. In the summertime, an ice cream stand on the way out of town is a popular fixture. There are several small, locally-owned shops where a variety of unique items can be found, and for the basics, there’s a Walmart, at which a kilted piper version of the yellow smiley face is painted on the wall in the entryway. The Millcreek Mall and Peach Street, Erie’s central shopping area, is only about a twenty-minute drive away.

I don’t know when I’m going to make it to Edinburgh again. But it’s nice to know that I can always get a little taste of Scotland by traveling to Edinboro, and though I haven’t attended any classes there myself, the university has certainly turned out to be a good fit for my brother.

Let A Scottish Christmas Transport You to the Highlands

I am a great fan of all things Scottish, so when I spotted A Scottish Christmas at the library, I knew I had to give it a listen or two. I’d never heard of any of the musicians on this instrumental album before, but each of them is excellent. Bonnie Rideout, music director for the album, is on the fiddle; executive producer Maggie Sansone plays the dulcimer; Al Petteway takes the guitar, cittern and bodhran; Abby Newton plays the cello; Jon Quigg plays the Highland fife drum; and Eric Rigler, piper for the Braveheart soundtrack, performs the Highland bagpipe, Scottish smallpipes and Uilleann pipes. They join together to create a supremely soothing sonic experience.

1. O Come, O Come Emmanuel / God Rest Ye Merry, Gentleman - O Come is one of those songs that always has a haunting air about it. That’s even more true with the pipes going. I hadn’t really thought of these songs as going together, but they do seem like a good fit. Meanwhile, the closing jig brings a fife drum along with the fiddle and Highland bagpipes to bring the song to a lively finish.

2. Here We Come A-Wassailing / Bottom Of The Punch Bowl - The fiddle is prominent again here, but complemented by the hammered dulcimer and guitar rather than the bagpipes, the result is a much softer-sounding track. I wasn’t familiar with the festive-sounding Bottom of the Punch Bowl, but from the title and the cheerful tone of the tune, the pairing with Wassailing feels natural.

3. Christmas Duanag / Hark The Bonny Christ Church Bells - I’m not familiar with either of these tunes, but they are lovely, and ideal for showing off yet another set of instruments. This time the dulcimer is repeated but is joined by bells and chimes, resulting in a very jubilant presentation. I also love the harp-like runs on the dulcimer that come about a minute in.

4. What Child Is This (Greensleeves) - The dulcimer and guitar provide a gentle undertone to this ancient song, while the Uilleann pipes and fiddle accentuate the poignance of the melody. The concluding jig rendition of the melody ends the track on a light, optimistic note.

5. Rock Thee O' Child / Our Savior Thee / Christ Child Lullaby - Of this series of lullabies, I’m moderately familiar with one, thanks to A Prairie Home Christmas. Once again, the dulcimer lends an incredibly hushed air to the medley, with the guitar adding depth and the viola flowing out in a soothing stream like the sound of a mother’s voice at bedtime.

6. Christmas Carousing / Ale Is Dear / New Christmass - The smallpipes start off this track, and they take some getting used to. Not much louder than a dulcimer, and with a strange staccato sound to them, they almost give the impression that you’re listening to a skipping record. Other instruments on this upbeat medley of tunes I’ve never heard before include the dulcimer, the cittern, the cello and the steadily pounding bodhran.

7. Da Day Dawis / Christmas Day I' Da Moornin' - The fiddle is in prominence on the first tune, which is slower and more contemplative, while the second features the dulcimer most prominently, along with the cittern and the cello, and is an uptempo number.

8. Adeste Fidelis (O Come All Ye Faithful) - The Highland bagpipes give this classic hymn a solemn air, to which the fiddle adds when it joins in on the second verse. The third verse adds a lovely layer of harmony that reminds me of Spock’s funeral scene in The Wrath of Khan.

9. Baloo, Lammy - This slow, gentle 400-year-old tune is new to me, as are the rest of the songs on this album up until the final track, and features some delicate guitar work and plaintive Uilleann pipes before taking on a more cheerful tone midway through and then finishing off slow and melancholy again.

10. Gloomy Winter - The viola perfectly captures the gloom of the melody. A fiddle later joins in to add a note of hope.

11. The Huntsman's Bag Of Grain / Goosegirl's Song / New Year's Day - This dulcimer-driven medley starts off slow and gradually speeds up, eventually becoming more like a jig. Cittern, fiddle and cello add to the festive air.

12. New Year's Day / On Christmas Night - Nothing but the guitar on this rather sprightly medley that evokes the feeling of a journey.

13. Yeoman's Carol / Sound Of Sleat - The dulcimer really gets a workout on the album, but few tracks showcase its beauty as strikingly as the first tune. The smallpipes take the lead for the second tune, with the fife drum and finally the fiddle joining in.

14. Rorate (Nativity) - This gentle reflection on the Nativity starts off with the guitar alone. The cello comes in on the second verse and the fiddle on the third, providing some nice harmonies that put one in mind of angel song.

15. All Sons of Adam - The title of this one makes me think of Narnia, and I could hear this fiddle and cello-driven medley fitting in nicely at a Cair Paravel concert, though there’s nothing in the liner notes to indicate that C. S. Lewis inspired the title.

16. Auld Lang Syne - The dulcimer starts off this New Year’s standard, playing a gently rippling version from the 1700s that bears little resemblance to the tune we know today. With some help from the guitar, it morphs into the next version, which sounds closer but still quite different. The fiddle takes the lead on the contemporary arrangement, which closes out the album, first in a slow, reflective manner, and then with a quick, cheerful air indicative of a hearty welcome to the New Year.

I don’t listen to a lot of strictly instrumental Christmas music, but A Scottish Christmas is absolutely gorgeous. If you love these sorts of instruments as much as I do, pop it in and prepare to be calmed.

My Top Ten Movies of the Late '90s ('95-'98)

The 1990s were incredibly big years for me movie-wise. Half my childhood happened in the '90s, including most of my teenage years. While I didn't necessarily get out to the theater that often back then, the movies I saw at the cinema really stuck with me. And I've had lots of time to catch up with the others - though almost all of my favorites are ones I saw in the '90s themselves. It was such a big decade for me movie-wise, I have to split it up into two. This first list covers 1995 to 1998; I'm skipping '99 since I did a top ten list for that one already and I'm looking for any excuse to trim down my list.

Babe (1995) - This beautifully shot fairy tale about a pig who becomes an expert sheep-herder simply by being polite led me to an obsession with Dick King-Smith. For an entire summer, I read every book of his that I could find in the library. As much as I love his writing, I like the film version of Babe even better than the book. The sun-drenched cinematography, the folksy music, the special effects and, perhaps most of all, James Cromwell as Farmer Hoggett, the ultimate man of few words.

Braveheart (1995) - It took me until 2001 to see this one, just because I knew it would be extremely bloody, not to mention long. I finally watched it when my brother brought some friends home to see it at midnight one night. No matter; bloodthirsty battles have a way of keeping one awake... The music, the cinematography and the accents were glorious. And Mel Gibson was a tour de force on this one. I still had to avert my eyes many times, but on the whole, I was a little surprised by how much I liked it.

Mr. Holland's Opus (1995) - My dad saw this in the theater with a friend of his who happened to be a music teacher himself. They loved it, as did my freshman theology teacher, who took every opportunity she had to recommend it. I can definitely see why any educator would appreciate this movie, in which Richard Dreyfuss shows us the lifetime of a composer who discovers untapped talents as a teacher. Powerful demonstration of John Lennon's observation: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

Sense and Sensibility / Pride and Prejudice (1995) - Yes, I'm cheating and putting the Austens together, though if you really pressed me, I'd have to claim the first as my favorite. Emma Thompson's incredible screenplay makes it one of the most faithful adaptations I've seen, making Sense and Sensibility manage as well in a couple of hours as Pride and Prejudice does in five. This was the movie that introduced me to her and made me really fall for Alan Rickman and Hugh Grant. Excellent all around. Of course, the latter is considered by many to be the ultimate Austen adaptation, and it certainly is terrific, thanks to a screenplay that sticks close to the book and an amazing cast, with Colin Firth the clear standout as the dashing Mr. Darcy.

Toy Story (1995) - A dazzling movie that ushered in the era of computer-animated films. It would be nice if they all came close to the standard this set. Tom Hanks and Tim Allen lead a top-notch cast of voice actors that includes Wallace Shawn, Don Rickles and Pixar mainstay John Ratzenberger in this funny, touching tale of jealousy and cooperation in the playroom. This one was first recommended to me by my freshman English teacher, who couldn't say enough good things about it. She was sure I'd love it, and she was right.

Phenomenon (1996) - I'd been wanting to see this one but hadn't yet gotten around to it when we watched it as part of my senior theology class. I wrote a four-page-long paper about it, and I could have gone on longer. A fascinating film about a humble man played by John Travolta who suddenly finds himself with remarkable abilities. I loved the story, as well as the excellent supporting performances, especially by David Strathairn, Forest Whitaker and Robert Duvall.

That Thing You Do! (1996) - Who would've ever thought that my little town of Erie would pop up in a Tom Hanks movie? This movie came just a year after Forrest Gump made me fall head over heels for Hanks, who I'd enjoyed in several other movies already. His role as an actor in this is comparatively small, but he wrote and directed the film, which is a fun, family-friendly reflection on the meteoric rise and fall of many bands in the '60s. An exuberant movie with one of the catchiest title tracks around, it's a winner for anybody who loves this era of music.
 
Anastasia (1997) - One of my favorite animated films, this Don Bluth movie was one that my brother and I caught in the theater together. It 's a highly fictionalized version of the life of Russian princess Anastasia Romanov, who was long rumored to have survived the attack on her family; one of the places she supposedly came was Erie, where there is a house named after her. The recent revelation that she died along with the rest of her family doesn't ruin this movie's charm for me. It's a touching love story with a wonderful cast that includes Meg Ryan, John Cusack, Kelsey Grammer and Angela Lansbury, and I loved the music so much I bought the soundtrack and the sheet music.

Ever After (1998) - Speaking of fairy tales, this live-action version of Cinderella directed by Andy Tennant is one of my favorite adaptations of the classic story. Drew Barrymore is headstrong but lovable as Danielle, an intelligent young woman devastated by the loss of her beloved father and oppressed by her cruel stepmother and stepsister. One of my favorite touches in this version is making the second stepsister sympathetic; wonderfully played by Melanie Lynskey, she is sweet and marginalized because she is portly, giving her more empathy with Danielle. Also fun is the incorporation of Leonardo da Vinci, which helps the film almost feel more like historical fiction.

The Truman Show (1998) - Jim Carrey is surprisingly low-key in this thought-provoking movie about a man who unknowingly spends his life as the subject of a reality show. Everything about his life has been manufactured, but there is one person from his past who is determined to tip him off. The lengths these people go to in order to keep up the artifice is incredible; the scary thing is that it's not so terribly removed from reality. I loved the concept of the movie and its family-friendly execution, and for the first time, Carrey's character didn't give me a headache. This is probably still my favorite of his performances.

The Chronicles of Narnia and Other Old Friends Fill 2005 With Nostalgia

Two years after the final installment in Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy came out, the first of Walden Media's adaptations of the Chronicles of Narnia hit theaters. I'd been looking forward to it for months, and it capped off a year in which the movies allowed me to revisit pleasantly familiar territory time and again.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - I'd seen the BBC version of this C. S. Lewis classic several times. As much as I enjoyed it, I was anxious to see how it would fare with the big-budget treatment. I saw it opening night, and while the BBC version is inarguably the more faithful adaptation, there was a lot I loved about this edition, starting with the adorable Georgie Henley as Lucy and the thoroughly endearing James McAvoy as the faun Mr. Tumnus. The special effects are gorgeous, as is the cinematography, and some of the key moments from the book leap to life on the big screen. Plus, this movie is responsible for Lazy Sunday, one of my all-time favorite Saturday Night Live sketches.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - I read the book, and of course I saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, so again I was interested in seeing how this update would compare. Tim Burton struck me as being an ideal director for a film taking place in such a skewered world, and he delivered a techni-color treat emphasizing the importance of family. While I missed Veruca's bumbling dad and Charlie's ludicrous teacher, in some ways, I preferred Johnny Depp's vulnerable, Michael Jackson-like Willy to Gene Wilder's manipulative version, and I definitely preferred irresistible Freddie Highmore as Charlie.

Dear Frankie - This little gem of a Scottish film stars Gerard Butler as a mysterious stranger who poses as the father who has walked out of young Frankie's life. It's the only way his mother, played by Emily Mortimer, can think of to painlessly deal with the ruse she's kept going; she's been writing to Frankie for years, posing as his father. The seeds of romance that blossom between her and the pseudo-dad are sweet, but it's the man's growing fondness for the open-hearted deaf child that really makes the film endearing.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - Another great installment in the Harry Potter series. Though Michael Gambon is harder to take as Dumbledore in this film than the others, Brendan Gleeson's outstanding performance as Mad-Eye Moody makes up for it. Meanwhile, the visual spectacle of the Quidditch World Cup and the Tri-Wizard Tournament is dazzling, and there's lots of humor to be found as Harry and his friends begin to navigate those dangerous waters of teenage romance.

Hitch - Will Smith and Kevin James are a winning team in this film about a man who makes a living secretly helping schlubs win over the women of their dreams. Each has his own romance to pursue throughout the film, but it's their buddy movie chemistry with each other that's really endearing. They are hilarious together, and James is one of the most lovable losers ever to hit the big screen.

March of the Penguins - Documentaries rarely go far in the theater, and it's pretty unusual for me to go see one there. But this one had been getting so much good buzz that I, like so many others, couldn't resist. The cinematography of those penguins making their perilous journey is breathtaking, and Morgan Freeman narrates with all the warmth of a grandfather telling a bedtime story.

Pooh's Heffalump Movie - My appreciation for Winnie-the-Pooh is one of the first things most people learn about me. I'm a huge fan of the Silly Old Bear, so I was determined to catch this film in the theater. My friend Libbie and I ended up with the theater all to ourselves, so I was able to combine the big-screen experience with the privacy of a home viewing. I loved the quietness of the movie, the lovely animation and the introduction of the adorable Lumpy to help teach the Hundred-Acre Wood gang that different doesn't have to mean scary.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants - I hadn't read the novel on which this film is based, but Libbie had, and she was the one who recommended the movie to me. All four of its young leading ladies have starred in television shows, though two hadn't yet at the time this movie came out. I was especially interested in Amber Tamblyn, who starred in the sadly short-lived Joan of Arcadia, and her storyline ended up being my favorite. Meanwhile, America Ferrera, who would go on to star as the plucky heroine in ABC's Ugly Betty, won me over in her storyline, which came in a close second.

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith - At long last, this film made Star Wars a pair of trilogies - though of course, the original trilogy is the far superior one. Still, I think this third installment was probably the best of the three, albeit not as much fun as The Phantom Menace.

Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit - This pair of claymated buddies finally got a full-length adventure. Though the chatty, addled inventor and his silent, brainy pooch might be better suited to shorter outings, this is a very fun adventure, especially for Anglophiles. And as a big fan of Art Garfunkel, the inclusion of a clip from the song Bright Eyes was a nice bonus for me.

A good year for fantasy and adaptations. Not too many surprises in 2005, but much of this year's crop felt pleasantly nostalgic.

Trek Proudly With Toy Factory's Plush Scotty Doll

Shortly after Star Trek came out in May, I was delighted to find a talking Spock bobblehead. He was one of four, but I had no great desire to purchase Captain Kirk or either of the one-shot aliens that had also been given the bobblehead treatment. I wished that other characters had been selected instead, especially Scotty and Bones. I'm still on the lookout for Dr. McCoy, but thanks to a lucky block sale find, I can now check Scotty off my list.

I was perusing a table full of oddities when I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, lying on a blanket in the grass. I saw the insignia first, and I knew I'd want him whoever he was, because how often does one stumble upon a foot-and-a-half-tall plush Enterprise crew member for fifty cents? But a quick peek at the red shirt and the expression of consternation told me that this was Montgomery Scott, galaxy-class engineer. Either that, or a random red-shirt about to be pulverized by some hostile alien being. But a peek at the tag confirmed it. I had my Scotty.

I find it rather sad that poor Scotty must be frozen into a permanent state of aggravation, but given that most of his catch phrases - "I canna change the laws of physics!", "I'm givin' 'er all she's got, cap'n!" and the like - involve perilous situations, it seems like an appropriate choice. I wish that Scotty, like Spock, could talk; would it have been that hard to stick a sound chip into his hand or behind the gold insignia on his uniform shirt? Half the fun of the character is his Scottish accent, but you just have to imagine it, or provide it yourself.

Scotty has big black shoes and black pants, and his shirt is red with gold trim and a black collar. The pants seem to be made of felt, while the shirt and shoes look like nylon and don't attract pet hair so easily. Scotty's flesh-colored hands and black hair are the same material as the pants, while his flesh-colored face and ears are the same as the shirt and shoes. His facial features are purely two-dimensional, with thick lines forming his mouth, nose, eyes and eyebrows and thinner lines helping to accentuate how stressed out he is.

Scotty is just large enough that he makes a good stand-in for a teddy bear, especially on trips, where his presence is likely to inspire laughter. I brought him camping with me, and upon my return to our small cabin, I discovered that my friend had left him dangling by one foot from the top bunk, giving him a good reason for that grimace. I haven't removed his tag yet, but once I do, I'm sure he'll be even more cuddly. I expect the same is true of solemn Spock and smirking Kirk, the other two characters in this line.

I was surprised to find out that they'd been released in 2009; what would prompt his young owner to toss him in the yard sale so quickly? Maybe he was a gift from someone trying unsuccessfully to turn the kid into a Trekkie. In any event, he cheerfully said, "Oh, that's mine!" when he spotted Scotty in my arms and rushed off to get me a bag. So I think he was much more excited about gaining fifty cents than upset about losing the greatest engineer Starfleet has ever known.

If you're a Trekkie looking for a fun addition to your bedroom, you might want to look into Scotty or his commanders. I've never seen them in stores, but they seem to be pretty easy to come by on eBay and Amazon, where you can expect to pay $10 to $15 each for them. A note on my tag promises, "More beaming down soon!" so perhaps all seven of the major crewmembers will be pillows before long. So far, I've seen no evidence that this Toy Factory line has expanded, but if Bones turns up, I might have to think about giving Scotty a buddy. Till then, perhaps my Tribble would be appropriate company...

Enchantment Looms Large in Loch Ness

There are many movies I'm looking forward to as this year closes, most of which I probably won't catch in the theater. But I'm determined to at least venture out to the cineplex once for The Water Horse, a film about the Loch Ness Monster based on a book by Babe author Dick King-Smith. I'm not sure if it's the fact that King-Smith is one of my favorite authors or my fascination with legendary creatures or my utter infatuation with all things Scottish that puts this one firmly at the top of my to-see list, but there it sits, and in anticipation of its release, I recently re-watched Loch Ness, another charming film about that fabled beastie of the deep.

I stumbled upon the movie accidentally about ten years ago during one of those happy periods in which we had a free cable trial. At first, I didn't think I'd like it; for whatever reason, I had a notion in my head that a movie about the Loch Ness monster was likely to be scary, even though I've never found Nessie frightening in the least and even though this was the Family channel. I'm glad I stuck with it.

The movie, written by John Fusco and directed by John Henderson, centers on Dr. Jonathan Dempsey (Ted Danson), a washed-up scientist who has become a laughingstock since his intensive yeti research yielded nothing. He's become a hardened skeptic, so he's disgusted when his boss, Dr. Mercer (Harris Yulin), assigns him the task of investigating the Loch Ness monster using state-of-the-art equipment.

When he arrives in Scotland, the replacement for the aged Dr. Abernathy (Philip O'Brien), who met with an unfortunate accident during the course of his research, he meets Adrian Foote (James Frain), his earnest young research assistant. Soon, he also makes the acquaintance of Laura McFetridge (Joely Richardson), the tart owner of a bed and breakfast, and her affectionate, intuitive young daughter Isabel (Kristy Graham).

While Laura doesn't exactly make him feel at home, at least not initially, Dr. Dempsey's greatest resistance comes from other sources. He must contend with Andy Maclean (Nick Brimble), the jealous, hotheaded owner of a boat he rents, and the crusty water bailiff (Ian Holm), who disapproves of Dr. Dempsey's interference with the loch he has cared for all his life.

Danson seems to have cantankerous cynicism down to a science, so his character here isn't really anything new, but it's fun to watch him grumble his way through the sleepy town on the edge of Loch Ness until a glimpse of the creature changes his outlook. He's really not a bad guy, as evidenced by the fast friendship he forms with Isabel. When he's with her, he is at his most endearing; the adorable child brings out the best in him. It was his relationship with her that stuck most firmly in my memory from the first time around, though I also recalled him developing a romance with Laura and eventually coming to share Adrian's bright-eyed enthusiasm for Nessie.

What startled me upon the second viewing was that I had completely forgotten the keeper of the lake. Though he does not show up quite as much as the McFetridges or Adrian, his role in the drama is certainly an important one, and no doubt I would have remembered him had I seen this movie anytime after Fellowship of the Ring. Since then, I've found that Holm's presence elevates any film, so he was a lovely surprise. But top honors really must go to Graham, who was eight years old at the time and perfectly projects a sense of ethereality. She does such a splendid job, I can't imagine why she hasn't appeared in a film since.

The beautiful scenery, the lilting score tinged with traditional Scottish tunes such as Wild Mountain Thyme and the magic of Jim Henson's Creature Shop are the icing on the cake in this enchanting family film that dares you to believe...

A Curious Correspondence and a Dashing Stranger

When, after great anticipation, I finally watched Finding Neverland, I was treated to a preview for a movie I’d never heard of. Entitled Dear Frankie, it was a Scottish film about a deaf boy who corresponds continually with his sailor father – or so he thinks. The letters are actually written by his mother, who is trying to protect him from the fact that his father is in reality an enraged jerk from whom she continues to flee, and eventually she decides to cement the illusion by hiring someone to portray the boy’s father for a day. The premise intrigued me, and the fact that it was Scottish did not hurt one bit. As I’ve said on so many other occasions, I could listen to a Scot talk all day.

Anyway, I thought it sounded like an interesting movie, but I didn’t hear any more about it until I went to the video store last week and saw it among the new releases. We were out in search of chick flicks, and though this didn’t look like it fit the description precisely, it seemed a good prospect. We watched The Prince and Me the first night and Dear Frankie the last night of our rental, and we wound up two for two. We should rent movies more often.

The look of the film is lovely, particularly in scenes when Frankie (Jack McElhone) goes out to look out over the bay and we’re treated to grand views of surrounding moors. Within the city, there is grittiness; Frankie’s family is poor, and while they’re not exactly in the slums, they’re certainly on the lower end of the middle class spectrum. Frankie is an intelligent and affectionate child doted on by his mother Lizzie (Emily Mortimer) and, to a lesser extent, his grandmother (Mary Riggans), who knows and disapproves of Lizzie’s trickery. It’s a bit like going to extraordinary lengths to convince your child to believe in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, and the longer the ruse continues, the more painful ultimate revelation will be. But beyond Lizzie’s desire to protect her son is an ulterior motive: because he does not speak, receiving Frankie’s letters is the only way she can hear her son’s voice.

Lizzie finds a confidante in Marie (Sharon Small), a sprightly woman who convinces her to come work with her at a nearby restaurant. Frankie has trouble adjusting to his class but finds a kindred spirit in Catriona (Jayd Johnson), a friendly girl who happens to know sign language. Less congenial is Ricky (Sean Brown), who antagonizes Frankie and makes a bet with him that his dad will not stop to see him when his boat docks in town for a few days. When Lizzie learns of the bet – and the boat, whose name she had adopted for the fictional boat from which Frankie’s dad writes – she is distraught and embarks on an intimidating search for a man who will agree to be Frankie’s father for a day. Complicating matters is the fact that Frankie’s real father has fallen terminally ill and is desperately searching for the family that fled him in order to make amends before the end.

In the end, it’s Marie to the rescue, furnishing out of thin air a man with, as Marie requests, “no past, no present and no future.” And yet strangely possessing all the qualities she wishes existed in Frankie’s real father. Gerard Butler, known to me as the Phantom from the recent film version of Lloyd Weber’s masterpiece, is the stranger, a quietly intuitive man who seems to know just what Frankie needs. The man and boy bond so quickly that it’s easy to forget they are not actually related, and you wonder at the marvelous luck that allowed Lizzie to find such an incredibly gentle and generous man to give her boy the thrill of a lifetime.

The truth of Frankie’s past is the darkest part of the film, and Butler is truly heartbreaking as his character reacts to Lizzie’s admission that Frankie’s father beat him into deafness as an infant. But in the present day, there is pervasive warmth and tenderness, and that is what remains at the conclusion of the film in spite of the realizations that precede it. Americans may have to pay extra close attention in order to comprehend the accents, but the dialogue is worth the extra effort, and the tones are melodious as always. There are a few profanities thrown about, but these are rare, and there’s really very little in the film to render it inappropriate for younger audiences. Dear Frankie is a fine family film with just a touch of fairy dust thrown in to make it fly.

Never Before Has Neverland Seemed So Within Our Grasp

Last year, I watched Two Brothers and fell in love with Freddie Highmore, the English answer to Haley Joel Osment. I soon learned he was set to star with Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a prospect that pleased me very much. But in the meantime, there was another film starring the two to watch out for: Finding Neverland. I already was convinced of the superiority of the cast, but glowing reviews from friends and critics and an NPR program in which an expert on accents applauded Depp’s work in the film made me even more eager to see it. As too often occurs, I missed it in the theater, but I was all too happy to finally watch it when it came out on video.

I’ve always been a fan of Peter Pan – the general story if not every version – but over the course of several years, particularly in college, my information led me to believe that author J. M. Barrie was at best deluded, at worst a pedophile, and probably both. When I first heard of this movie, I thought it might be rather gritty and cynical. As it turned out, it was just the opposite. I don’t know which account to believe, but I certainly like this one better, and the idealist in me embraces it.

Depp stars as Scotland native Barrie, and I must say that he was awfully easy on the ear. I don’t mask my prejudices. There are few things in this world more beautiful than a Scottish accent. It’s the reason I fell in love with Billy Boyd; it’s the reason I started watching Craig Ferguson after Letterman every night. So even though Depp naturally has just a plain old American accent, I forget that in an instant here. Flawless. But there’s more to this performance than admirable command of a dialect. Depp portrays Barrie as a man rather like Michael Jackson (ironic given the abundant comparisons his role as Willy Wonka produced) but with none of the creepy oddball associations. The people around him may make those accusations, but we see him simply as a gentle man intimately in touch with his inner child and unable to mold himself to the conventions of polite society. Like John Denver, his life’s work and his charitable causes are of greater concern to him than his personal life, which has deep ramifications for his relationship with his wife (Radha Mitchell).

In Barrie’s case, the “charitable cause” that consumes him and troubles his wife is the family of Sylvia Llewelyn Davies (Kate Winslet), a recently widowed woman with a brood of four boys, three of whom (Joe Prospero, Nick Roud, Luke Spill) are energetic and imaginative. The odd one out is Peter (Highmore), who is deeply scarred by his father’s death and has little use for the falderal Barrie happily trots out for the boys’ benefit. Nonetheless, the author perseveres, encouraging Peter to write his own stories. Meanwhile, he is so inspired by his afternoon romps with the children that he recovers from a writing slump, writing what is destined to be by far his most popular play, though his producer (Dustin Hoffman) is overcome with worry that this exceedingly strange piece of theater will be a colossal flop. Hoffman remains an understated comic presence, and I can only assume he was asked to assume the role as a nod to his performance as Hook in the film of the same name. At the same time, Sylvia’s stern mother (Julie Christie) shows increasing disapproval of the playwright’s involvement with her daughter and grandchildren, particularly once Sylvia begins to display signs of a serious illness.

The look of this film is magical, suffused with dappled sunlight that almost invariably overpowers the shadows that linger on the periphery. The visions of Neverland are especially bright, and for fans of the story it’s exhilarating to feel as though we are watching the genesis of these beloved characters and events. Perhaps my favorite such moment is when Barrie observes the Davies children jumping on the bed and imagines them continuing upwards instead of falling back upon the soft mattress, flying out of the open window into a land where they will never grow older and never change. As much as he tries to preserve their innocence, he cannot shield them from harsh reality, but he can give them a gift: the power of story, latent within each of them, to unlock the magic so many weary souls have left behind and never attempted to reclaim.

Top-notch acting, superior cinematography, a gentle story and tender score all come together to create a masterpiece of which all its participants can be proud. Peter flies high once again, and he’s never before looked so much like one of us.

"They May Take Our Lives, But They Can Never Take Our Freedom!"

Being a life-long lover of Scotland, I have wanted to see Braveheart ever since it came out, but I never went out of my way to do it because I knew it was an extremely graphic film and I figured I'd have a lot of trouble stomaching it. It's the favorite movie of my cousin, who loves Scotland so much that he plays the bagpipes and has even acquired a kilt to match, so I always tell him I need to watch it with him so he can tell me when to close my eyes. It didn't work out that way, but I survived the experience nonetheless.

My brother just purchased this on DVD, and last week I was awakened at about 1:30 in the morning by a lot of racket downstairs and the lilting melody of a stirring soundtrack. "Gee," I thought, "sounds like they're watching Braveheart." My guess was correct, and when I crept down the stairs I announced that I was watching the movie too. I had missed only the first ten minutes, which I happened to have seen at school one time. So I was all set. One-thirty in the morning may seem like an odd time to embark on a three-hour-long movie, but sleep never threatened to consume me. I was wide-awake the entire time.

The movie begins in the hometown of William Wallace, future hero of Scotland. In this brief scene, Murran, a village girl, plants the seeds of romance for the rest of the film when she presents young William with a thistle. Shortly thereafter, the boy is whisked away to join his uncle in Rome, as his father, Malcolm, has just fallen victim to the cruelty of the British king Edward the Longshanks. The orphaned boy will not return until his adulthood, but he will always remember the circumstances of his father's death and the first love of his life.

Twenty years later, Scotland is still in turmoil as it remains under the heavy hand of Longshanks, who is played masterfully by Patrick McGoohan. His dry wit and regal air add to his icy aura, which was suited to a man known as one of the cruelest monarchs to ever sit on the British throne. (A side note: After my dad, a genealogy buff, watched this movie, he recalled that King Edward I was on our family tree. I would much prefer William Wallace for an ancestor!) He has forced his son, who comes off in this film as a spineless ninny cowering in his father's shadow, to marry a French princess (Sophie Marceau), effectively combining the two kingdoms. Meanwhile, in an attempt to entice the British nobles to take root in Scotland, he reinstitutes the old custom of prima nocta, "first night", a law stating that a noble may have full rights to a common girl on the night of her wedding.

William Wallace (Mel Gibson) returns to Scotland, to his hometown, in the midst of a wedding celebration. After being reaccepted into the clan after an amusing "test of manhood" with his former playmate, Wallace immerses himself in the joyous occasion, only to have it cut short by a noble demanding the new bride.

Throughout the festivities, William and Murran (Catherine McCormack) had been eyeing each other, so it's no great surprise when William shows up at her doorstop that evening requesting permission to go riding with her. It's pouring down rain, and her parents object, but Murran is too quick for them and she rides off into the rain with William. Once they are alone, William confesses his undying love for Murran, but he does so in another language so she does not yet understand that the depth of his devotion matches her own. When they part, however, William presents her with a gift: the thistle that he had kept ever since she gave it to him those long years ago.

Their courtship is brief, and the next time they go out, William asks Murran for her hand in marriage. They are married in secret that very night, and here is where the pleasant portion of the story ends.

The very next day, Murran is ambushed by a group of nobles who decide to have their way with her. William comes to her rescue as she is fighting off their brutal attempts, but when she flees to the forest on his horse, the nobles catch up with her and inflict the punishment required for attacking a noble. By the time William arrives, his new bride is dead and with her, his dreams of becoming a farmer and raising children in peace. There can be no turning back now. William Wallace is determined to lead his countrymen to freedom from the tyranny of the British king and his nobles.

And that is exactly what he does for the rest of the film. More and more Scots join his army, and his clever battle strategies and blazing bravery soon make him the most respected man in Scotland -- or in the case of the British and the Scottish nobles, who are content with the status quo, the most despised. Only one Scottish noble believes that William's uprising may be worth it. This man is Robert de Bruce, heir to the throne of Scotland. He has great regard for the commoner whose stirring speeches inspire men to fight and whose courage in the face of danger causes the bravest of opponents to shiver. His father advises him to side with William, but only as long as it looks like he is winning. He must do whatever is necessary to ensure that the throne will be his, even if it means betraying his own people.

In the first major battle of the film, the British troops set out with the intention of intimidating the Scots into submission, adding the incentive of lordship for William Wallace and the other leaders. Wallace, whose stirring call to patriotism just convinced his cowering countrymen not to flee, has no intention of giving in, and he tells the British commander so in no uncertain terms. Then he returns to his post to commence the activities in true Scotsman style. I can just see the headlines: Brave Bill and the Boys Begin Battle with Bemused Brits By Brandishing their Bare Buttocks. Yes, if you've ever "wondered if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt", as the song The Scotsman queries, then wonder no more. Of course, this unconventional show of solidarity isn't much of an effective offensive strategy; these tactics commence shortly thereafter, and though the Scots are greatly outnumbered, they manage to wipe out the entire Northern army.

Now the stakes are really getting high, and even Longshanks begins to lose heart when he gets word that "York has been sacked". He is so furious with his son's allowing this to happen in his absence that he tosses the prince's military advisor out the window, a scene of almost Python-esque absurdity. Did that actually happen? Well, probably not. As far as historical accuracy goes, Braveheart takes a lot of liberties. But it captures the spirit of the Scottish freedom movement beautifully.

The tide turns for Wallace's cause when de Bruce obeys his father's command to betray him. In this battle, Longshanks himself shows up, having failed to convince Wallace with his terms of peace presented by the Princess. In their brief meeting, however, Wallace gained a powerful ally; it was the sympathetic princess who tipped him off that Longshanks planned to attack Edinburgh. Although Wallace survives the battle and his army, aided by the Irish forces, is not vanquished, the cause is weakening. And de Bruce is consumed with guilt over his betrayal. Determined to make things right, de Bruce calls a meeting with Wallace. Wallace comes, but de Bruce is aghast to discover that he has been an unwitting accomplice in the capture of his friend and hero. Now, with Wallace in their possession at last, the British feel sure they can break his spirit, and that of his followers. But they have misjudged badly...

The music of Braveheart, composed by James Horner, is haunting and beautiful. It matches the beauty of that noble land, a beauty echoed in the lyrical tones of the very speech of its people. The acting is superb on all ends, and the mere scope of the film is impressive. To get a taste of what went into putting this film together, watch the DVD, which comes with an enlightening mini-documentary on the making of the film, containing commentary from participants in the movie of all capacities. This was indeed an impressive endeavor, and although the violence caused me to leave the room on several occasions, and although the historical facts have been tweaked a bit to obtain the most Hollywood-compatible story, the film is fantastic nonetheless.

This movie is a tragedy, with thousands of violent deaths enacted upon the screen. It is a gruesome history, full of heartache and defeat. But it is, in the end, a tale of the triumph of the human spirit, the tale of one man who dared to think that freedom was in his grasp and the countrymen who dared to believe him. It is, above all, a testament to the sentiment that "they may take our lives, but they can never take our freedom!"