There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays in A Hobo's Christmas

The other night was a snowy November evening. Though Thanksgiving was still a week away, it felt like the perfect time to officially break out the Christmas movies, so when a friend proposed one of her favorites, A Hobo's Christmas, Mom and I readily agreed. Neither of us had heard of the 1987 made-for-TV movie before, so we were especially keen to give this unfamiliar story a shot.

Will Mackenzie, who has worked primarily in television, directed this feel-good film about Chance (Barnard Hughes), a hobo who, after 25 years riding the rails and avoiding direct contact with his son Charlie (Gerald McRaney), decides it's time to try to heal the rift. Chance pulls into Salt Lake City with his traveling buddies and convinces them to stay on with him at the local mission while he tries to reconnect with Charlie for Christmas and bond with the grandchildren he's never met.

Above all else, this is a father-son story, and Hughes and McRaney play their parts marvelously. Hughes, who I was pleased to recognize as the kindly but addled Father Maurice in Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit, is enchanting as the weathered traveler who's always glad to help a stranger but has too long run from those he loves most. Meanwhile, Major Dad veteran McRaney (who also played John Denver's stern father in Take Me Home: The John Denver Story) turns in another solid performance as a caring but distant paternal figure.

Charlie works long hours, so he's not home with the kids as much as he would like, nor does the widower trust himself to fall completely in love again, though all signs seem to indicate he has found a new soulmate in the lovely Laurie (Wendy Crewson), who has been offered a hard-to-resist job in another state. But it's Chance who really gets under Charlie's skin, and all those years of bottled-up bitterness spew forth in unexpected ways, especially as he watches young Kathy (Jamie Sorrentini) and Bobby (Harley Cross) fall in love with the grandfather who doesn't seem capable of staying in one place for any length of time.

The production values on the movie aren't all that great, but that's generally to be expected of a made-for-TV movie, so I wasn't distracted by a few rather clumsy exterior shots. The children's performances aren't exactly noteworthy, but they play well off of Hughes, and it's in the moments of grandfatherly storytelling that we get the best sense of who this man really is. While they don't come into the movie that much, Chance's roving buddies are fun characters, each with tales of his own to tell. Cantankerous Cincinnati Harold (William Hickey) is the most prominent of these; his Scroogish behavior from the beginning suggests that a transformative subplot may be in store for him.

It may not be as well-known as the specials that get replayed year after year, but this movie captures the spirit of the season better than many I've seen. A Hobo's Christmas is a quiet, simple film emphasizing the idea that it's never too late to make a new beginning, and there's no better time to try it than Christmas.

A Very Merry Cricket Prolongs the Goodwill of A Cricket in Times Square

If you're lucky enough to strike gold with a children's movie or series, it stands to reason that a sequel or a Christmas special are likely future possibilities. It didn't take Chuck Jones long to follow his adaptation of George Selden's A Cricket in Times Square with A Very Merry Cricket, in which feisty Tucker Mouse (Mel Blanc) and gentle Harry Cat (Les Tremayne), fed up with the materialistic rabble of a New York Christmas, decide to pay a visit to their dear friend Chester C. Cricket (Tremayne) in hopes that he can return with them and remind the frazzled New Yorkers that Christmas should be a time of peace, joy and brotherhood.

There is just as much music in this second cricket cartoon as in the first. More, actually, because Chester's wings are not the only music makers. Harry and Tucker have a chance to sing, and even Chester occasionally uses his voice for tuneful purposes for a change. Because this is a Christmas special, there are snippets of several traditional Christmas songs, sometimes with altered lyrics. Chester also slyly adapts Three Blind Mice to fool a lanky alley cat (Blanc) who intends to make supper out of Tucker, and Tucker launches into a tirade against human consumerism that sounds suspiciously like My Fair Lady's A Hymn to Him.

And while watching this Christmassy sequel, it's inevitable to draw comparisons with How the Grinch Stole Christmas, perhaps the most famous Chuck Jones special of them all. In some ways, wise-cracking Tucker is a lot like the grouchy Grinch. He observes all the holiday hullabaloo with disgust, recalling the Grinch's agitated objections to all the "noise, noise, noise, NOISE!" In Dr. Seuss's story, the Grinch catches the Christmas spirit when he hears the Whos singing, devoid of their traditional trimmings. In A Very Merry Cricket, it takes the song of one sincere insect to spread the Christmas spirit to every citizen of a chaotic city.

Like many of Jones' productions, it has a message that it hammers over the heads of the viewers, but the heavy-handedness doesn't bother me this time around. We're treated to scene after scene of cacophony as shoppers shove each other and traffic blares and hideous animatronic Santas boom out stilted Christmas greetings. How different Chester's stirring wingsong sounds from all that clatter!

But along with the message of "Peace on Earth, goodwill to men," there are also several action-packed escape sequences: Tucker from a very persistent Connecticut cat, Harry from a belligerent Connecticut dog, Chester from relentless New York feet. Not to mention a fantastic toboggan ride inspiring Tucker to sing, "Oh, what fun it is to ride on a one-cat open sleigh!"

It's not quite as classic as How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but fans of the first Chester, Tucker and Harry cartoon should find A Very Merry Cricket to be very merry indeed.

LOST and Found: Exploring the Spirituality of LOST

One of the reasons I like the show LOST so much is its frequent exploration of spiritual themes. John Ankerberg and Dillon Burroughs tap into this in What Can Be Found in LOST: Insights on God and the Meaning of Life from the Popular TV Series. Both men are theologians and avid LOST fans, and they use the book as a guide into the meatier aspects of the show, demonstrating how faith can be fed by popular culture.

The book is divided into three sections. The first and longest deals with the themes of LOST; God, Prayer, Destiny, Miracles, Trust and Secrets, Good and Evil, the Bible, Dreams and Visions, Leadership, Numbers, Redemption, Death and the Afterlife each have a separate chapter. The second section delves into LOST's unusually active fan base and the abundance of theories as to where the show is headed, and it ends with a segment inviting those who feel "lost" to accept Jesus Christ. Finally, the appendices include many basic facts about the show, including major characters and their interconnections, religions represented on the show and books mentioned throughout the series.

It's clear from the Lost... What to Do About It section that Ankerberg and Burroughs are hoping to draw more than just a Christian audience for this book, as part of their intention is evangelical. They also want to encourage Christians to be discerning in their television choices; while both find a lot to like about LOST, they don't think that all of its messages are constructive. They also question whether it is healthy to devote as much time and energy into a television show as some of its most ardent theorists do.

Probably the most interesting part of the book for most people will be the first section. Each of these chapters begins with some dialogue from the show. For instance, the first segment starts with Ben telling Jack that he believes in God because a spinal surgeon fell out of the sky after he was diagnosed with a tumor. The next segment, Addressing the Issue, discusses the question of God's existence and nature. Next, there are several snippets from the show in which the word "God" is mentioned. What Can Be Found in Lost? discusses God from a Christian perspective and evaluates how LOST corresponds. Finally, Lost Talk features several discussion questions, making this a book that might work well as a Bible study.

While each chapter makes interesting points about the show - in the first chapter, for instance, they point out that God is mentioned frequently but as of the season three finale Jesus is only mentioned directly nine times - the most extensive chapter involves LOST's references to the Bible. These include Eko's discussion of King Josiah, Desmond's time as a monk and Rose's prayer with a despairing Charlie (one of my favorite moments on the show). All told, the authors cite more than 20 specific references to Bibles or Biblical events. There's also a detailed listing of everything scratched into Eko's "Jesus stick," with a paragraph devoted to each item.

Also of interest is the list of Biblical names used throughout the show. Finally, the authors criticize LOST for what they perceive as theological misinterpretations. The most prominent of these, unsurprisingly, is Eko's strange take on the Biblical account of Jesus' baptism. While I agree that Eko gets it wrong, that could have something to do with the fact that he still has a lot to learn himself. Given the direction the writers took with him, however, it's probably fair to fault them rather than just the character. At any rate, this chapter is especially jam-packed with references, making it clear how preoccupied LOST's creators are with such matters and giving the show's viewers a lot to consider.

I found a few minor errors in the book, such as the character list that includes two deceased characters among the living and a mis-spelling of Claire's name at one point, but for the most part this is a well-edited book likely to be of interest to serious fans of LOST, especially Christians. Of course, it only takes readers halfway through the series; I would be interested to see if they release a second edition or sequel after the sixth season. But there's certainly enough here to get readers thinking, both about the show's little details and about significant matters of faith.

Number 2100: Simon and Garfunkel's Bookends Explores the Relationship and Impact of Two Old Friends

There are many parallels between the Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel. One is the fact that both groups recorded songs about companionship later in one's life. When I'm 64 is bouncy and optimistic, and it's a benchmark that Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr have now passed (though ironically, 64 was a pretty crummy year for Sir Paul relationship-wise). Old Friends, by contrast, is wistful and melancholy; its central characters seem about 30 years older than those in When I'm 64 instead of just 6. But while they muse about "how terribly strange" it is to be 70, there is gentle solace to be found in each other's company. In Simon & Garfunkel's Bookends, Pete Fornatale explores the lifelong friendship of the two singers, particularly through the lens of what he considers to be their greatest album.

Simon and Garfunkel are my all-time favorite band, so when I found out about this book, I was anxious to read it, and I figure a volume that so eloquently ruminates on the ins and outs of two of my musical heroes was a good choice for my 2100th review. I've read many articles about the band as well as the biography by Victoria Kingston, which delves more into their personal lives and post-Simon and Garfunkel careers than this one does. Fornatale is, as the cover so humbly states, a "legendary New York disk jockey". Not so legendary that I ever heard of him before picking up this book, but I'll give him a pass because his work is excellent, and he brings to it both the affection of a friend and fan and the insight of a music expert. His writing style is literary but accessible, and I breezed right through the 120-plus pages of the attractive little hardcover, which is small enough to fit in my purse.

Along with the introduction and afterward, there are eight chapters. The first, "Daddy, What's a Concept Album?", is the least Simon and Garfunkel-centric of the chapters, as it focuses mostly on the history of that form in its various incarnations. Among early concept albums that might not have been specifically noted as such, he mentions Woody Guthrie's Dust Bowl Ballads and several albums by Frank Sinatra, while pointing out that just about every Christmas album ever recorded is essentially a concept album. It isn't until the end of the chapter that he discusses Bookends, claiming it "elevated the grammar and vocabulary of popular music."

In the next chapter, The Early Years, Fornatale chronicles the men's early lives and musical influences. Throughout the book he includes many reflections by the singers themselves, and these are quite revealing. For instance, though I've heard them talk about the music they listened to as kids, I never knew that the songs that turned them on to rock and roll were Earth Angel by the Penguins (for Art) and "Gee" by the Crows (for Paul). Other territory is more familiar: their roles in a sixth-grade Alice in Wonderland play, their one-hit wonder days as Tom and Jerry, their first major break-up (evidently because Art was hurt that Paul made a solo record). Fornatale mentions a lot of the tracks I discovered on the album Before the Fame, which is a charming piece of history for the serious enthusiast but certainly not up to the quality of the music they began to produce together several years later.

In the third, fourth, fifth and sixth chapters (Folk, Folk Rock, 1967 and The Graduate) Fornatale provides details on the making of Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M., Sounds of Silence, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme and the soundtrack of The Graduate, often offering his analysis of the songs in a manner that seems informed rather than merely his subjective musings. Since most of my favorite music stems from the sixties or early seventies, I appreciated the fact that Fornatale mentions many other artists as his way of placing Simon and Garfunkel more fully into a cultural context. The Beatles, the Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, the Weavers and Peter Paul and Mary are just a few of the musicians who pop up, and of course, he has plenty to say about Paul and Art's primary influences, the Everly Brothers.

Fornatale sets the stage for the seventh chapter, the in-depth discussion of Bookends around which the whole book is based, by pointing out the maelstrom of climactic events that occurred in 1968, most notably the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. just a day after the album was released. Fornatale also bemoans the fact that on CDs, there is no side one and side two, which lessens the impact of this particular album since only the first side is part of the "concept". He also complains that the covers are so much smaller, making the stark black and white image of the duo less striking.

Fornatale gives every track on the album special consideration while exploring overarching themes such as youth, isolation, old age and, of course, friendship. He talks about how the songs are both incredibly personal and tap into universal emotions and experiences. Sprinkled throughout the chapter are anecdotes from various people associated with the project in one way or another. One story I found especially interesting was a reflection by Mike Nichols on how he wound up with the ending shot of The Graduate, whose feeling of jubilant journeying morphs into blank confusion, a process Fornatale compares to the progress of the song America. The discussion of side two yielded the revelation that At the Zoo was a controversial song when it came out, owing to references to turned-on hamsters and drunken zookeepers. A shame, since that's one of the few genuinely cheerful songs Simon and Garfunkel ever recorded! Despite the general melancholy of Bookends, it was the centerpiece of what may be considered Simon and Garfunkel's biggest year; at one point in 1968, the top three albums on the charts were all by Simon and Garfunkel.

Only one chapter, cleverly titled Post-Graduate, has much to say about Paul and Art's lives for the past 40 years, and even then it's almost exclusively in the context of their interaction with one another. It's in this chapter that Fornatale makes the pointed observation that Bridge Over Troubled Water, generally considered Simon and Garfunkel's best album, is "more a documentation of a partnership being shredded rather than pulled together." But he doesn't conclude with that severing of a long-held friendship. Instead, he takes readers to Paul's reflection on the 1981 reunion concert in which he acknowledges that the sight of Simon and Garfunkel reuniting was powerfully symbolic for a lot of people, an indication that "wounds can be healed, things can go back to the way they were. Life has a happy ending." In light of that, the vision of Paul and Art sitting next to each other on a park bench three years from now, quietly enjoying one another's company, seems all the more probable. For this Simon and Garfunkel fan, that's a scene worth hoping for, and this is a book well worth reading.

Number 1900: Every Day Is a Jolly Holiday With Mary Poppins

If you were to ask me to compile a list of my favorite movies, I'd hem and haw as I always do when any question of ranking or superlatives comes up. I'd protest that I couldn't possibly produce anything definitive, that my favorites change all the time, that I've seen far too many films, most of which are pretty good. But eventually, you'd get a few titles out of me, one of which would indubitably be Mary Poppins. Like the magical nanny for whom it is named, the movie is practically perfect in every way, in large part because of the brilliant songs created by Robert and Richard Sherman. I can't think of too many worthier subjects for my 1900th post here on Epinions.

Overture - A beautiful piece of instrumental music incorporating the songs from the film. Gives you a little taste of what's to come, with a more orchestral spin on the tunes. I often find overtures a tad tedious, but I never mind sitting through this one.

Sister Suffragette - Glynis Johns is a delight as the mousy Mrs. Banks; this song is her one big moment in the spotlight. I love the way she also gets the cook and housekeeper enthusiastically involved in her rousing stand for women's rights. It includes the hilarious line "Though we adore men individually, we agree that as a group they're rather stupid," which seems to be the position of an awful lot of people, judging by the way nearly every commercial on television makes men out to be morons. What makes the song - and the sense of condescension in that line in particular - so funny is the fact that as soon as Mrs. Banks is out of the moment, she's hurriedly stashing away her sashes for fear of "infuriating" her husband.

The Life I Lead - The first song is Mrs. Banks' anthem of self-assurance; this is Mr. Banks', and it pops up in various forms as he is forced to reassess his role as the man of the house. He would like to think that he is the king of his castle, but he's about to find out that being a distant monarch means he has no idea about and no control over what's happening with his family. His obliviousness as his wife tries to tell him that the children are missing is priceless. David Tomlinson sings the march-style song with a wonderful clipped precision that establishes his character as a man driven by routine and a sense of privilege.

Perfect Nanny - Karen Dotrice and Matthew Garber are absolutely adorable in this movie, and this song showcases their talent as it gives Jane and Michael an opportunity to give their input as to what they are looking for in a nanny. Since the nannies always leave because of conflicts with the children, it seems it would be prudent to take their suggestions into consideration. I love how formally they write the advertisement, incorporating words such as "disposition" and "dominate" - while, still in the sweetest of tones, threatening abhorrent behavior if their requests are not met. The gentle lullaby-like accompaniment gives their voices, especially Dotrice's, a chance to shine, and the ad itself is, of course, what summons Mary Poppins in the first place, so in that regard, it's one of the most important moments in the movie.

A Spoonful of Sugar - One of the catchiest songs in the movie, and one of the biggest reasons I've always cursed the fact that no matter how I try, I absolutely cannot snap my fingers. Why can't it be "Clap! The job's a game"? Nonetheless, this song helped me through many a dreary room-cleaning exercise, and it's one of the most entertaining sequences in the movie. Just listening to it on the soundtrack, you can visualize all those elements of the disordered nursery zooming into their proper places. It's a bit of a throwback to Whistle While You Work, with magic making the job easier instead of a host of forest animals - though that industrious robin serves as inspiration to the children. This is the first time in the movie we get to hear Julie Andrews' melodious voice, and it's only appropriate that she should be in cahoots with a songbird. With Mary Poppins, nothing is run-of-the-mill. Who knew that cleaning up could be so much fun?

Pavement Artist (Chim Chim Cher-Ee) - Over the last few years, I've read a lot of complaints about Dick Van Dyke's inconsistent accent in this movie, but I never noticed it when I was younger, and even now that I've listened for it and can see what people mean, it doesn't bother me much because Van Dyke is just so fantastic. Bert, like Mr. Banks, has a theme song, and the jolly one-man-band / pavement artist / chimney sweep / kite seller alters the words depending on his occupation of the moment. I would love to shake hands with Bert.

Jolly Holiday - My parents once performed this song together. It's such a wonderfully joyous song, and the closest thing to a love song in the rare Disney film where romance is a subplot only hinted at and never really resolved. This is the only point in the movie during which Bert and Mary have some alone time, and there's a sense of very old friends picking up where they left off, simply basking in the pleasure of each other's company. Bert is more overt about it than Mary is, but when his sincere sentiments coupled with goofy antics give way to her more sophisticated response affirming her affections, it's terrific to see a glimpse of Mary, usually so calm and in control, as someone who can be swept off her feet. And the sublimely silly penguin dance beats Happy Feet hands down.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious - This other most recognizable song from the movie has given the world a word to trip over for the past 40 years. In sixth grade, I wrote a play for my class, and one of the things the main character had to do over the course of the play was spell this word. I played the main character... and that's a lot of letters to keep track of! Speaking of big words, this song also introduced me to the word "precocious." It's a lively group number that's great for sing-alongs, and I love the asides in the movie by random characters, especially the cowering fellow who "said it to me girl, and now we girl's me wife - and a lovely thing she is too!"

Stay Awake - Good ol' reverse psychology. Coupled with this incredibly soothing melody, it winds Jane and Michael down from their thrilling day, forcing them to succumb to unwanted slumber in their impossibly soft beds. There was a time I didn't like this song much, since it serves a similar purpose to Feed the Birds but isn't nearly as compelling, but Andrews works wonders with a lullaby, so I really don't mind it. Just a smidge less engaging than the rest, though.

I Love to Laugh - How can you not get the giggles while listening to Ed Wynn chortling his way through this deliriously goony song? As someone who is pretty prone to random, excessive giggling, I've often wished that it actually had the anti-gravity effects presented in this scene. Alas, I just have to imagine that part! Wynn is hilarious here, and I never get tired of Van Dyke's verse expounding upon different styles of laughter. As usual, Mary is the straight man in all of this, and she tut-tuts with disapproval when Uncle Albert, Bert and the kids go zooming up to the ceiling, but she allows the merriment to go on long enough for a graceful mid-air tea party before bringing the Bankses and the Berts down to earth.

A British Bank (The Life I Lead) - Mr. Banks resumes his kingly anthem as he tries to express his disapproval about all the frou-frou Mary has been filling the childrens' heads with. But Mary quickly takes over the reins (and the reign), putting words in his mouth - and rather sarcastic words at that ("When gazing at a graph that shows the profits up, their little cup of joy should overflow!"). Clearly Mary thinks Mr. Banks is a little too fixated on finances, but her main point here is arranging for the children to spend some time with their father, which they so desperately desire. At first Mr. Banks is delighted that they seem to be on the same page, and then he's confused, wondering how he wound up agreeing to this unplanned Bring Your Children to Work Day. What a subversive trick Mary has managed to play! Mr. Banks is starting to realize his lack of influence in his children's lives, a crucial step toward his eventual epiphany.

Feed the Birds - This was always my favorite song of the film, and I've never stopped loving it. The melody is gorgeous, as are the visuals of the birds swarming around St. Paul's Cathedral and the theme of compassion as good stewardship, especially in a Christian context. ("All around the Cathedral, the saints and apostles look down as she sells her wares. Although you can't see it, you know they are smiling each time someone shows that he cares.") In 2001, I fulfilled a long-held dream by climbing the steps of St. Paul's, tuppence in hand. Unfortunately, there was no bird woman there to sell me bird food, and most of the feathery folk seemed to be hanging out at Trafalgar Square that day. But it was still an exciting moment for me. This song is a perfect illustration of God's eye being on the sparrow and of the exhilaration of sharing with those in need.

Fidelity Fiduciary Bank - Not only is Van Dyke brilliant as Bert, he is outstanding - and almost unrecognizable - as the ancient, wobbly, wheezing senior Mr. Dawes, the eldest of a gaggle of fusty old men who serve as Mr. Banks' superiors. This is quite an eye-opening experience for the Banks children, and it's easy to understand how they could be so intimidated by all of these old, grim-looking men closing in on them with the encouragement of their own father. They try to get Michael excited about the prospect of investing his money, but they are so out-of-touch with their own childhoods that they have no idea how to talk to children on their level. "Affluence," "propriety," "self-amortizing canals," "established credit," "foreclosures," "private enterprise," "amalgamations"... What a bunch of gobbledygook when all Michael wants to do is feed the birds! A terrific illustration of the divide separating Mr. Banks from his children.

Chim Chim Cher-Ee - Leave it to Bert to make everything better. After the traumatizing morning at the bank, what a relief it is to spend the afternoon in the company of someone with little money to his name who knows how to have a great time wherever he goes! Oddly, though it occurs late in the film, this is Bert's main theme, with earlier incarnations of it building up to it rather than branching out from it. Like Mr. Banks, Bert sings about his satisfaction with his life, and in his case, it remains intact no matter what happens throughout the movie. Bert is a very flexible and easy-going guy; grateful for his freedom, he helps the children to understand some of the pressures working upon their father.

Step in Time - An incredibly long dance sequence that's much more fun to watch than to merely listen to. The rooftops of London, the glittering lights, the fancy tricks with the chimney smoke, the exuberant choreography... This one, stemming directly from the previous track, is pure - and rather pointless - fun. It's sort of like a square dance, with all of the instructions being called out, and because it is so repetitive and visually oriented, it loses the most in the transition from movie to album.

A Man Has Dreams / The Life I Lead / A Spoonful of Sugar - Here, Bert continues his work of trying to heal the rift in the Banks family by reminding Mr. Banks how precious his children are and that he will never regain the time with them that he is losing. It's a beautiful human moment for Mr. Banks, who up until this point has tried so hard to appear dignified. His reflection on shattered dreams is devastating, but Bert's response is downright heartbreaking. It seems a little strange that Mr. Banks should be confiding in this chimney sweep, but such is his desperation and Bert's naturally sympathizing disposition that the barriers come down in this touching, dirge-like medley.

Let's Go Fly a Kite - Thankfully, there's one more song after that, so we don't end on such a downer. Indeed, what could be more up than flying a kite? At last, Mr. Banks has met his children halfway, and they can all enjoy the day together, knowing that they have turned a new corner in their relationship. Though this song signals Mary's departure, the song feels much more joyous than its equivalent in Pete's Dragon, in which Elliot the dragon makes his exit, never to return. At least with Bert faithfully waiting for Mary in London, it seems likely that she will come back someday; in the meantime, the children will be too busy basking in their father's newfound priorities to spend much time moping over the loss of the most remarkable nanny they'll ever have. Mary has done her job, with a lot of help from the always affable Bert. All is well.

That sense of contentment washes over me anytime I hear one of these remarkable songs. Quite possibly my all-time favorite Disney movie, Mary Poppins hinges largely on the mastery of the Sherman Brothers and the musical talents of its cast. "When the day is gray and ordinary," sings Bert, "Mary makes the sun shine bright." What a marvelous way to brighten up your day!

I Stifle a Yawn as The Chipmunks Sing the Beatles Hits

I love the Chipmunks. I love the Beatles. When I found an album marrying the two, I was delighted. The Chipmunks Sing the Beatles Hits is a 1964 effort containing twelve tracks of Alvin, Simon and Theodore doing their best to imitate the mop-tops. This seemed a very exciting prospect to me, and the cover shot of the boys and Dave Seville assuming the positions (and haircuts) of John, Paul, George and Ringo is fantastic. In execution, however, it isn't nearly so interesting, since nearly every song merely attempts to replicate the sound of a particular Beatles song with higher-pitched voices. Play the Beatles sped up, and you'd probably get a similar result. Still, for an avid fan of both groups, it's worth a listen.

All My Loving - There's a really joyous tone to this song, which has bouncy guitar-driven instrumentals and tight vocals. The boys switch off on solos now and then, though this early in their career it's rather difficult to tell them apart. Still, a nice opener, especially with Dave's little introduction making sure the lads have their hair on straight.

Do You Want to Know a Secret - My second-favorite song on the album, it changes up the vocals a bit; sometimes the boys all sing together, sometimes one sings solo with the others providing an echo. A nice mellow song, it's on the lower end of the register, aside from the "ooh-ooh-ooh"s, which are soft enough that they sound pleasantly flutey instead of shrill.

She Loves You - Nice fast pace, and it gives the Chipmunks a chance to do a nice bit of harmonizing. I like the exuberance and the guitar; not so crazy about the super-high "wooooooooooooo"s.

From Me to You - I like the harmonies on this one too, and the guitar and harmonica are fun. The notes manage to stay mostly out of the super-shrill range, which is good for the ear drums, but nothing too notable about this one.

Love Me Do - This one is a logical choice since Alvin is so associated with the harmonica, but a decent-sized instrumental break where some trademark banter could have fit perfectly is wasted.

Twist and Shout - A very peppy song, and fun to listen to, except in for a couple of really screechy moments. My favorite part, though, is during an instrumental break when Dave helpfully - if a tad irately - lets Alvin know that his black wig is slipping off his head. All that twisting and shouting is to blame, no doubt...

A Hard Day's Night - I like the guitar work on this one, and it's a great song to begin with, the Chipmunks just don't really add anything to it - other than an octave or two...

P. S. I Love You - This sweet, sentimental song is my favorite song on the album, partly because it's entirely new to me. Somehow I managed to miss this one in its original form, but I'll certainly be seeking it out. The Chipmunks don't get too shrill on this one even for one note, and I love the singing style, with Alvin going solo but Simon and Theodore chiming in on certain words. There's a clarity and precision to it that's lacking in most of the other tracks, and it's wonderfully melodic.

I Saw Her Standing There - Bouncy, but it goes on too long and too often dissolves into unpleasant screeching.

Can't Buy Me Love - Another track with nice guitar and a peppy beat. Toward the middle, there's a groovy little guitar solo and a shouted instruction from Dave, but otherwise it's just the Chipmunks singing in unison and there's nothing too exciting about it.

Please Please Me - Fast and fun, a pretty good track aside from the fact that the middle portion is pretty much incomprehensible.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand - The Chipmunks do a nice job of harmonizing on this classic song, but the pace seems draggingly slow, and the note on "haaaaand" is ear-piercingly high. There's nothing uniquely Chipmunky about it, which is a shame because I would think there would be a lot of comedic potential here. As it is, it's not a terribly exciting way to end the album.

Then again, most of these tracks aren't very exciting. Voices that sound like they're on helium are fun, but what makes the Chipmunks so appealing - for me, anyway - is the humor they put into their songs. Aside from a couple of comments about the hair, that's entirely absent here, making it a fun little tribute but a pretty dull album overall that just doesn't live up to the cover's potential. It doesn't help that the Chipmunks' personalities and voices don't seem to be very well differentiated at this point. For the lover of Chipmunks and Beatles, this is a fun little piece of history, but The Chipmunks Sing the Beatles Hits isn't an album that's likely to get a lot of replay.

Paul Simon Speaks For All Devoted Dads in Father and Daughter

Father's Day is right around the corner, and it's a good time to think about some of the great songs out their dealing with father-child relationships. I can name a few right off the top of my head: Bob Carlisle's Butterfly Kisses, Mike and the Mechanics' The Living Years, Harry Chapin's Cat's in the Cradle, Luther Vandross's Dance With My Father, Rod Stewart's Forever Young, Brad Paisley's He Didn't Have to Be... to say nothing of several of the songs on Michael Card's Sleep Sound in Jesus and Art Garfunkel's Songs From a Parent to a Child. It's to Art's former partner, Paul Simon, that I turn my attention here, with one of the most recent additions to the group: Father and Daughter. Now if the title alone doesn't just scream "Father's Day" - at least for all us gals - I don't know what does.

It was written for 2002's The Wild Thornberries Movie, which I've never seen; though I tend to be a bit suspicious of a cartoon that looks so much like Rugrats, from the little snippets I've seen of the television show, I like the emphasis on conservation and on geeky Animal Whisperer Eliza's relationship with her eccentric, enthusiastic dad, and from what I gather, this is what the song celebrates in the context of the film. I presume that it's also autobiographical, as Paul's daughter Lucia was about six at the time it was written. While the movie itself didn't seem like the sort likely to win any awards, Simon picked up an Oscar nomination for Best Song, losing out to Eminem with Lose Yourself.

Father and Daughter is written as a love letter from a father to his little girl, so the lyrics are fairly simple, especially in the chorus, which includes the expansive statement "As long as one and one is two, / there could never be a father who loves his daughter more than I love you." Isn't that just the way most devoted dads feel? The mix of percussion and rambling guitar gives the film a slightly African flavor; it's easy to imagine the instrumentals as a cascading waterfall or a chorus of nocturnal creatures in the background. It feels like a bedtime song; Paul's tone is soft and comforting, and there are references to dreams, falling stars and monsters under the bed.

There is one line that strikes me as peculiar every time I hear it, and I wonder if it would make more sense if I saw the movie, or if it's some kind of inside reference meant as a nod to Lucia. "I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard of a Golden Retriever." My first thought was that Paul wrote the lyric that way just for the sake of a rhyme, which doesn't seem like his style, especially since that particular internal rhyme pattern is unique in the song. But if it were me, I think I would feel a lot better about having an actual Golden Retriever standing there; what good, precisely, is a postcard going to do? I guess it could be a comforting image, but it still seems a little odd. (Incidentally, that same year, James Taylor, who once recorded What a Wonderful World with Paul and Art, released the album October Road, which also includes a positive reference to a Golden Retriever. It was a good year for the Goldens!)

This isn't my favorite Father's Day song out there - that would be Dan Fogelberg's Leader of the Band, a tribute to a much-loved father from a son just beginning to understand his powerful influence on his life - but it's certainly a keeper. (I’m always keeping an ear out for songs along these lines, so if you have any favorites, I’d love to find a few more!) One of Paul Simon’s most tender tunes, Father and Daughter is a beautiful celebration of one of life’s most precious relationships. Eliza and Lucia are lucky girls. So am I.

Mulan Brings Honor to Its Creators

When Enchanted came out last year, one of the things that excited me most about it was the fact that it would be a musical. I adore Disney musicals, and they've been sorely lacking in that department lately. The '90s was an incredibly rich time for this, however; one of the last in that decade-long winning streak was Mulan, an atypical film about young Chinese woman uncomfortable with the role society is forcing upon her who finds out what she's really made of when she enlists in the army, disguised as a man, to spare her ailing father the duty.

There is great beauty in Jerry Goldsmith's score for the film, with all its rich textures and Asian motifs. Mulan's Decision starts off pensive, with lilting, fluty tones that give way to pulse-pounding excitement as the song progresses. The ominous Attack at the Wall prickles with danger, and intensity builds in The Huns Attack, with its distinct instrumentation and march-like rhythms. Suite From Mulan and Blossoms are both notable for the range for expression and the haunting melodies that linger after the song ends, while the poignantly elegiac The Burned-Out Village is perhaps the most moving of the instrumental tracks.

Ever since Beauty and the Beast, Disney always had to have a radio-ready tune or two to stick with the credits. Here, it's True to Your Heart, a peppy ode to self-assurance performed by 98 Degrees and Stevie Wonder, and Christina Aguilera's version of Reflection, the film's most popular song, performed by Lea Salonga in the movie. Just about all of the songs, composed by Matthew Wilder with lyrics by David Zippel, contain at least a nugget about wanting to be true to oneself, but this anthem really hits the message home with all the power balladry it can muster, making it a song frequently heard in American Idol auditions, teen beauty pageants and the like. "When will my reflection show who I am inside?" It's an intriguing question that plagues many - especially, it seems, teenage girls - and Aguilera sings the heck out of it, though as always, I prefer the in-the-moment movie version.

Eddie Murphy is the chief source of comic relief throughout the film, but Mulan's army buddies offer their share of humorous moments, particularly in A Girl Worth Fighting For, in which the guys enthusiastically daydream about the kind of gal they'd love to have waiting for them when they get home. This lively group song performed by Harvey Fierstein, James Hong, Jerry Tondo, Matthew Wilder and Salonga (who, as Mulan, tries unsuccessfully to convince the lads that smarts and guts are as desirable in a woman as good looks and cooking skills) is rowdy but sweet despite its rather patronizing tone. These guys don't yet realize what Mulan is capable of, nor that she is a woman; when they find out, they'll gain a little better appreciation for womankind. It's a lovely light moment that takes a sudden dip into tragedy as it concludes.

Its bookend song is You'll Bring Honor to Us All, performed by Salonga, Beth Fowler and Marnie Nixon, in which Mulan's mother and various other women try to coach Mulan on the standards of grace and beauty she must adopt in order to score a fine catch of a husband. The accompanying film sequence is both funny and frustrating, since Mulan clearly is not meant for the mold the women in her community try to fit her into. "Men will gladly go to war for you," they tell her; they hope that she will be, as the above-mentioned song states, "a girl worth fighting for." I got flashbacks to this song as I watched the first-season episode of LOST in which Sun, the daughter of a Korean business tycoon, is pressured by her parents to doll herself up for a husband she doesn't want. There's also a hint of Fiddler on the Roof, with all the focus on tradition and matchmaking.

All of the songs are cleverly written and give us good insight into the characters, but my favorite has to be I'll Make a Man Out of You, young army leader Shang's whip-'em-into-shape anthem for his sluggish troops. It doesn't hurt that Donny Osmond does the singing; his voice, as he so amply demonstrated in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, is a powerful instrument, and listening to him belt out this half-snarky, half-inspirational song is almost as good as hearing his wistful tones on Close Ev'ry Door, my favorite Andrew Lloyd Webber-Tim Rice collaboration. Osmond conveys a perfect mix of derision and pride as this young man strives to create a cohesive unit and thereby prove himself worthy of his lauded father's legacy. With an irresistible melody and memorable lyrics (, this is the one that will always keep me in the Disney store a few extra minutes if it happens to pop up on the screen just as I'm leaving. "We must be swift as the coursing river... / With all the force of a great typhoon... / With all the strength of a raging fire... / Mysterious as the dark side of the moon."

A stirring movie about a warrior "princess" whose heart and spirit rival Eowyn in The Lord of the Rings, it contains hints of romance but far less than the typical animated Disney feature. The soundtrack accentuates the movie's themes of courage and self-awareness, while the instrumental portions have a unique flavor reflective of the Ancient Chinese setting. Mulan doesn't seem to have achieved quite the classic status of Disney's early-90s batch, but as a movie and as a soundtrack, it's spectacular and well worth a viewing and a listen.

Weird Al Mines Comic Gold Out of Forrest Gump

I've seen quite a few movies in my life, so compiling a definitive list of favorites would be an awfully tall order for me. However, I can safely say that one of the movies that would appear on that list would be Forrest Gump. When it first came out, I didn't pay too much attention, since I thought of it as an adult movie, and I was barely old enough to get in to see it without my parents. Nearly a year later, I'd heard enough about it that I finally went to see it; that it stayed in theaters that long is evidence in itself of its staying power. I saw it. I loved it. We bought it as soon as it came out on video. And shortly thereafter, I was introduced to Weird Al Yankovic and heard his take on this brilliant film.

Before I watched a special comparing the video for this song with the original, I had never heard of Lump, a song by the Presidents of the United States of America, perhaps best known for their catchy ditty Peaches. I wasn't missing out on much. This is one case in which Al's parody makes a great deal more sense than the original, which comes across as pure hard-rocking gibberish.

By comparison, Weird Al's take on the song isn't very weird at all. It's basically a straightforward synopsis of the movie, a song that could be easily turned into a trailer when paired with clips from the film. It touches on several key events and characters without giving too much away. His encouraging mother; "shrimp-lovin'" buddy Bubba; "friend with no legs," Lieutenant Dan; promiscuous childhood sweetheart Jenny and two U.S. presidents all rate a mention. Prominent quotes from the film include "My name is Forrest," "Life is like a box of chocolates," "Stupid is as stupid does" and "Run, Forrest, run" and, the perfect song-stopper, "That's all I have to say about that."

Once you've seen the video of a Weird Al parody, you can't help seeing flashes of it in your head whenever you hear the song. In this video, Al is part of a three-person band jammin’ with percussion and electric guitars, banging their heads to the beat and leaping up, down and every which way in front of a series of Forrest Gump-appropriate backdrops in a frenzy of energy. Sometimes they’re on screen with the confused Forrest look-alike, and sometimes the video intercuts between them. There are brief recreations of some of Forrest’s climactic meetings with historical figures and a deliciously cheesy sequence of him running across a series of landscapes, including the moon. Mostly, though, we see Forrest on the park bench, offering his chocolates to various strangers, each time with disastrous results.

Familiarity with Lump isn’t at all essential to enjoyment of this song, though you’re much more likely to get the most out of it if you’ve seen Forrest Gump. It’s a very fast-paced, hard-rocking song, and generally it wouldn’t be too much to my taste, but it’s far too much fun for me to be turned off by a little cacophony. Anyone who loves the movie as much as I do will probably get a few laughs out of this somewhat skewered ode to one of the sweetest film protagonists the world has ever seen.

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown Most Certainly Qualifies as a Favorite

Years ago, my family and I went to a performance by Christian performer Paul Hill, who performed a number of famous songs that he claimed to have written, at least in part. One of these was Bad, Bad Leroy Brown. He spoke of hanging a gold record on his wall and raking in the money for the hit song but said when his mother heard it, she was aghast at the violent lyrics and insisted he write new words, something nice that she could share with the ladies in her church quilting circle. So he did, and he sang us the result, which as I recall was a song about Noah.

I liked it, and I've tried to track it down since then, but there's virtually no reference to Hill online - and most of the references seem to indicate that he never had a hand in any of those songs he claimed he did. I find it hard to believe someone, especially a gospel singer, would be so dishonest and audacious as to take credit for songs he had nothing to do with, but I've scoured the credits of this song and several others and have never seen his name there, so I'm starting to think he made it up. I imagine he did write the Noah lyrics himself, but if the allegations against him are true, he has no more right to pen such words than I do to twist Jim Croce's tune into a song about curmudgeonly Dr. House.

That was a great concert, so it was disillusioning to find out that so much of it was most likely based on false pretenses. But it makes a lot more sense that Croce would have written this on his own. He was a master singer-songwriter who crafted most of the songs he performed, usually after being inspired by his own life or his keen observation of others. Leroy Brown was a devil-may-care fellow soldier around whom Croce created a scintillating scenario. The fictional Leroy is one mean dude, and he's used to getting his way all the time, but he gets knocked down a peg when he puts the moves on a woman who is spoken for by a pretty aggressive husband.

Croce had a really odd way of enunciating at times, and nowhere is it more pronounced than in this energetic number. The jazzy piano instrumentals fit well with his staccato delivery; he's always dropping articles or the first or last letter in words, which adds to the song's edge. I'm guessing he sang in this way to accentuate Leroy's tough-guy 'tude, and it's one of the song's most distinctive attributes.

It's probably just as well that he truncates his words, making the one dubious phrase in the chorus sound very much like "downtown" instead of the two words it actually is. "Baddest man in the whole downtown" isn't going to set off many alarms - though a tiny bit of bad language shouldn't really rankle that much in a song whose lyrics seem to almost revel in Leroy's bad deeds.

He carries around a gun and razor wherever he goes. He gambles excessively, and, to quote a rather naught John Denver song, he "likes to deal with the ladies." But Croce and his whooping back-up singers are having such a great time singing about him, he seems more hero than villain, and it's a little sad to think of this towering man as "a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone."

In his sadly short career, Croce wrote and sang some of the most tender, sensitive songs ever recorded. Bad, Bad Leroy Brown isn't one of them. But it's absolutely one of the most fun.

*****

I could have sworn up and down that I found this as a single in the database, but when I went to post it, all I could find was Bad, Bad Leroy Brown and Other Favorites, a solid album containing several of Croce's best-known songs. I'm not sure I would quite agree they're all "favorites," but certainly that term applies to the bittersweet Time in a Bottle; the forlorn Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels); the tender I'll Have to Say I Love You in a Song; the nostalgic Photographs and Memories and the rollicking Roller Derby Queen, the only track that comes close to matching the pep of the title song.

Also included on the album are the socially conscious, Dylan-esque Which Way Are You Goin'? and Railroad and Riverboats; the self-examining, country-flavored Age and the pleading The Way We Used To Be. Considering the overall tone of the album, it might have made more sense to name it after one of the more introspective tunes, but you can't dispute Leroy's popularity. As a single song or the masthead of a great collection, Bad, Bad Leroy Brown is fantastic.