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Hadley (567 KP) rated Those Bones Are Not My Child in Books
Nov 12, 2019
A different type of True Crime book (1 more)
Things you probably didn't know about the case
Writing transitions are confusing (1 more)
Smash poetry breaks up the flow
Toni Cade Bambara, a writer, documentary filmmaker and screenwriter, gives True Crime readers a unique viewpoint of the real Atlanta Child Murders. Bambara mostly writes from the eyes of Marzala, a mother of three whose oldest son goes missing during one of the worst murder sprees in Atlanta's history. Marzala and her family were not actual people during this time- - - all of them are based off of parents and siblings of the real victims. Not soon after Marzala does everything she can with the police to find her son, she joins a group of African-Americans that are outraged by the lack of progress to catch who is killing Atlanta's black children. This group forms what is called STOP (a citizen-run task force). For the majority of the book, Marzala with most of the black community in the area typed out letters to prominent government officials asking for help to stop the murders, also using Vietnam vets in the area to use their tracking skills to keep an eye on suspects, and investigating buildings that police refused to believe had anything to do with the childrens' disappearances and/or murders, which Bambara did an amazing job putting all the real facts together of the actual community members that were involved with this at the time. This story is upsetting, but enlightening on how politics may have caused so many children to be murdered. This is a story no reader will ever forget.
Bambara writes not in a normal narrative - - - just telling a story from specific viewpoints, but she often breaks off into smash poetry to depict a character's state-of-mind, which, sometimes can be off putting for the reader, breaking the flow of the story. Yet, the use of smash poetry combined with the era and the heart breaking subject at hand, separates Those Bones Are Not My Child from every True Crime book I have ever read. But a note for fans of True Crime, this story is from the view point of the victims' families and the search they went through to try and catch the murderer(s), unlike most TC books, which follow the police through the investigation leading to, usually, the capture of the perpetrator. From living in Atlanta during the time of the murders, Bambara was able to reconstruct the life of a black family in 1980's Georgia, while focusing on the effect these terrible crimes had on the surrounding community. Bambara did an amazing job on what most writers cannot.
The amount of characters, specifically the fictional ones, are very well created. She describes just enough to give readers the ability to tell them apart, showing every now and then from their own viewpoints. Out of all the characters, I came to really like Zala's two other children: Kenti and Kofi. One particular scene shows the strain of Sonny's disappearance on their family: " Zala parked the comb again and sat back. 'Listen, you two.' Kofi dropped down onto his knees. 'The police and the newspapers don't know what the hell is going on, so they feel stupid, because they're supposed to know, they're trained to know, they're paid to know. It's their job. Understand? But it's hard for grown-ups to admit they're stupid, especially if they're professionals like police and reporters. So they blame the children. Or they ignore them and fill up the papers with the hostages in Iran. Understand? And now... Jesus... they've got people calling those kids juvenile delinquents.'
'Don't cry.' Kenti tried to lean into her lap and got pushed away.
'They don't know a damn thing and they act like they don't want to know. So they blame the kids 'cause they can't speak up for themselves. They say the kids had no business being outdoors, getting themselves in trouble.'
'You let us go outdoors.'
'Of course I do, baby. We go lots of places, 'cause a lot of people fought hard for our right to go any damn where we please. But when the children go out like they've a right to and some maniac grabs them, then it's the children's fault or the parents who should've been watching every minute, like we don't have to work like dogs just to put food on the table.'
Kofi walked on his knees towards the bed, but he didn't lean on her like he wanted 'cause she might push him away. So he just put his hand on the mattress next to hers."
During the Atlanta Child Murders, victims were random, except for that they were children from the same neighborhood, and they were African-American. At first, police didn't believe a serial murderer was going around abducting children, but rather that 'poor, broken' families were killing their own. In the Prologue, Bambara shows that the victims' families and private detectives came up with more ideas of the motive than the police did:
" White cops taking license in Black neighborhoods.
The Klan and other Nazi thugs on the rampage.
Diabolical scientists experimenting on Third World people.
Demonic cults engaging in human sacrifices.
A 'Nam vet unable to make the transition.
UFO aliens conducting exploratory surgery.
Whites avenging Dewey Baugus, a white youth beaten to death in spring '79, allegedly by Black youths.
Parents of a raped child running amok with 'justice.'
Porno filmmakers doing snuff flicks for entertainment.
A band of child molesters covering their tracks.
New drug forces killing the young (unwitting?) couriers of the old in a bid for turf.
Unreconstructed peckerwoods trying to topple the Black administration.
Plantation kidnappers of slave labor issuing the pink slip.
White mercenaries using Black targets to train death squadrons for overseas jobs and for domestic wars to come. "
All of these theories are explored with evidence in Those Bones Are Not My Child. One scene in Part III, Zala's cop friend, B.J. shows up to her house to tell her to stop bringing attention to the investigation, " 'That Eubanks woman - - - your husband's friend? - - - she said you were bringing in the TV networks to blow the case open. I thought we had an agreement to keep each other informed. This morning I find out through the grapevine that you parents got a medium stashed in a hotel here in town, some woman who's been making headlines up north with cases that supposedly have the authorities stumped. If you knew how much work has been done on this case - - - no, listen, don't interrupt me. Then I find out - - - and not from you - - - that some of you parents are planning to tour the country cracking on the investigation. That's not too smart. And you should have told me.' " These two may have been fictional characters, but in Bambara's Acknowledgments, she states that all scenarios were true, and that she made B.J. to tell about the actual police officers who were involved with the investigation.
The tension between the police and the public is felt throughout the entire story. Despite all of the work the citizen task force put in, police arrested a man named Wayne Williams for the murder of two adult victims (who, due to their mental age, which was stated to be that of children, were placed on the victims' list of the Atlanta Child Murders): " Wayne Williams, charged with the murder of twenty-seven-year-old Nathaniel Cater and implicated in the murder of the other adults and children on the official list..." Zala, having worked for almost a year at the STOP offices, she, along with most of the community, doubt that Williams was a lone killer or even the killer at all. Williams never stood trial for the childrens' murders, but the police informed the public that he did it, case closed - - - although, after Williams' arrest, children were still being abducted and their bodies were still being found. Even after Williams' trial and the guilty verdict for two adult victims, some people stuck around to continue to investigate and claim Williams a 'scapegoat' of politics: " There were still pockets of interest and people who wouldn't let the case go. James Baldwin had been coming to town off and on; a book was rumored. Sondra O'Neale, the Emory University professor, hadn't abandoned her research, either. From time to time, TV and movie types were in the city poking around for an angle. Camille Bell was moving to Tallahassee to write up the case from the point of view of the STOP committee. The vets had taken over The Call now that Speaker was working full-time with the Central American Committee. The Revolutionary Communist Party kept running pieces on the case in the Revolutionary Worker. Whenever Abby Mann sent down a point man for his proposed TV docudrama, the Atlanta officials and civil rights leaders would go off the deep end. " At the end of it all, the questions still remain: did Williams kill all of those children by himself? Was he part of a pornographic cult that killed the children? Or is Williams completely innocent, and the murderer(s) are still out there? In Those Bones Are Not My Child, I guarantee you will be left questioning if the police were right.
All in all, the writing transitions can become confusing sometimes, especially the interludes of smash poetry, but I highly recommend this book to people who like the True Crime genre, especially of any interest in this specific case.
Bambara writes not in a normal narrative - - - just telling a story from specific viewpoints, but she often breaks off into smash poetry to depict a character's state-of-mind, which, sometimes can be off putting for the reader, breaking the flow of the story. Yet, the use of smash poetry combined with the era and the heart breaking subject at hand, separates Those Bones Are Not My Child from every True Crime book I have ever read. But a note for fans of True Crime, this story is from the view point of the victims' families and the search they went through to try and catch the murderer(s), unlike most TC books, which follow the police through the investigation leading to, usually, the capture of the perpetrator. From living in Atlanta during the time of the murders, Bambara was able to reconstruct the life of a black family in 1980's Georgia, while focusing on the effect these terrible crimes had on the surrounding community. Bambara did an amazing job on what most writers cannot.
The amount of characters, specifically the fictional ones, are very well created. She describes just enough to give readers the ability to tell them apart, showing every now and then from their own viewpoints. Out of all the characters, I came to really like Zala's two other children: Kenti and Kofi. One particular scene shows the strain of Sonny's disappearance on their family: " Zala parked the comb again and sat back. 'Listen, you two.' Kofi dropped down onto his knees. 'The police and the newspapers don't know what the hell is going on, so they feel stupid, because they're supposed to know, they're trained to know, they're paid to know. It's their job. Understand? But it's hard for grown-ups to admit they're stupid, especially if they're professionals like police and reporters. So they blame the children. Or they ignore them and fill up the papers with the hostages in Iran. Understand? And now... Jesus... they've got people calling those kids juvenile delinquents.'
'Don't cry.' Kenti tried to lean into her lap and got pushed away.
'They don't know a damn thing and they act like they don't want to know. So they blame the kids 'cause they can't speak up for themselves. They say the kids had no business being outdoors, getting themselves in trouble.'
'You let us go outdoors.'
'Of course I do, baby. We go lots of places, 'cause a lot of people fought hard for our right to go any damn where we please. But when the children go out like they've a right to and some maniac grabs them, then it's the children's fault or the parents who should've been watching every minute, like we don't have to work like dogs just to put food on the table.'
Kofi walked on his knees towards the bed, but he didn't lean on her like he wanted 'cause she might push him away. So he just put his hand on the mattress next to hers."
During the Atlanta Child Murders, victims were random, except for that they were children from the same neighborhood, and they were African-American. At first, police didn't believe a serial murderer was going around abducting children, but rather that 'poor, broken' families were killing their own. In the Prologue, Bambara shows that the victims' families and private detectives came up with more ideas of the motive than the police did:
" White cops taking license in Black neighborhoods.
The Klan and other Nazi thugs on the rampage.
Diabolical scientists experimenting on Third World people.
Demonic cults engaging in human sacrifices.
A 'Nam vet unable to make the transition.
UFO aliens conducting exploratory surgery.
Whites avenging Dewey Baugus, a white youth beaten to death in spring '79, allegedly by Black youths.
Parents of a raped child running amok with 'justice.'
Porno filmmakers doing snuff flicks for entertainment.
A band of child molesters covering their tracks.
New drug forces killing the young (unwitting?) couriers of the old in a bid for turf.
Unreconstructed peckerwoods trying to topple the Black administration.
Plantation kidnappers of slave labor issuing the pink slip.
White mercenaries using Black targets to train death squadrons for overseas jobs and for domestic wars to come. "
All of these theories are explored with evidence in Those Bones Are Not My Child. One scene in Part III, Zala's cop friend, B.J. shows up to her house to tell her to stop bringing attention to the investigation, " 'That Eubanks woman - - - your husband's friend? - - - she said you were bringing in the TV networks to blow the case open. I thought we had an agreement to keep each other informed. This morning I find out through the grapevine that you parents got a medium stashed in a hotel here in town, some woman who's been making headlines up north with cases that supposedly have the authorities stumped. If you knew how much work has been done on this case - - - no, listen, don't interrupt me. Then I find out - - - and not from you - - - that some of you parents are planning to tour the country cracking on the investigation. That's not too smart. And you should have told me.' " These two may have been fictional characters, but in Bambara's Acknowledgments, she states that all scenarios were true, and that she made B.J. to tell about the actual police officers who were involved with the investigation.
The tension between the police and the public is felt throughout the entire story. Despite all of the work the citizen task force put in, police arrested a man named Wayne Williams for the murder of two adult victims (who, due to their mental age, which was stated to be that of children, were placed on the victims' list of the Atlanta Child Murders): " Wayne Williams, charged with the murder of twenty-seven-year-old Nathaniel Cater and implicated in the murder of the other adults and children on the official list..." Zala, having worked for almost a year at the STOP offices, she, along with most of the community, doubt that Williams was a lone killer or even the killer at all. Williams never stood trial for the childrens' murders, but the police informed the public that he did it, case closed - - - although, after Williams' arrest, children were still being abducted and their bodies were still being found. Even after Williams' trial and the guilty verdict for two adult victims, some people stuck around to continue to investigate and claim Williams a 'scapegoat' of politics: " There were still pockets of interest and people who wouldn't let the case go. James Baldwin had been coming to town off and on; a book was rumored. Sondra O'Neale, the Emory University professor, hadn't abandoned her research, either. From time to time, TV and movie types were in the city poking around for an angle. Camille Bell was moving to Tallahassee to write up the case from the point of view of the STOP committee. The vets had taken over The Call now that Speaker was working full-time with the Central American Committee. The Revolutionary Communist Party kept running pieces on the case in the Revolutionary Worker. Whenever Abby Mann sent down a point man for his proposed TV docudrama, the Atlanta officials and civil rights leaders would go off the deep end. " At the end of it all, the questions still remain: did Williams kill all of those children by himself? Was he part of a pornographic cult that killed the children? Or is Williams completely innocent, and the murderer(s) are still out there? In Those Bones Are Not My Child, I guarantee you will be left questioning if the police were right.
All in all, the writing transitions can become confusing sometimes, especially the interludes of smash poetry, but I highly recommend this book to people who like the True Crime genre, especially of any interest in this specific case.
Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Tales from the Loop in TV
Jan 22, 2021
Such is the competition for our attention on the major streaming services, and such is the daunting depth of choice, that sometimes something of real quality can slip through the net for a while. I like to think that eventually, everything gets the audience it deserves, because eventually enough people that appreciated it will find it and pass it on. But it is apparent that good things can go under the radar very easily for one reason or another.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.
Bob Mann (459 KP) rated They Shall Not Grow Old (2018) in Movies
Sep 28, 2021
We DO remember them.
“Trapped in a Charlie Chaplin World”. So says director Peter Jackson in a post-screening discussion with Mark Kermode, describing early black and white documentary footage. Whereas modern film runs at 24 fps, most of the old footage is hand cranked, with speeds as low as 12 fps which leads to its jerky nature. Jackson in this project with the Imperial War Museum took their WW1 footage and put it through a ‘pipeline process. This cleaned-up and restored the original footage; used clever computer interpolation to add in the missing 6 to 12 frames per second; and then colourised it.
The results are outstanding. Jackson wisely focuses the film on the specific slice of WW1 action from the trenches. And those anonymous figures become real, live, breathing humans on screen. It is obviously tragic that some (and as commented by Jackson, many in one scene) are not to be breathing humans for much longer.
These effects take a while to kick in. The early scenes in the documentary are in the original black and white, describing the recruitment process, and how many of the recruits were under-age. (To explain the varied comments in the film, they should have been 18, although officially shouldn’t have been sent overseas until 19).
It is when the troops arrive in France that we suddenly go from black-and-white to the fully restored and colourised footage, and it is a gasp-inducing moment.
Audio magic
All of the audio commentary is from original BBC recordings of war veterans recounting their actual experiences in the trench. Some sound like heroes; some sound like rogues; all came out changed men. Supporting music of WW1 ditties, including the incredibly rude “Mademoiselle from Armentières” over the end credits, is provided by Plan 9.
But equally impressive is the dubbing of the characters onscreen. Jackson employed forensic lip-readers to determine what the soldiers on-screen were saying, and reproduced the speech using appropriate regional accents for the regiments concerned. Jackson also recounts how the words associated with a “pep-talk” speech to troops by an officer he found on an original slip of paper within the regimental records: outstanding. Added sound effects include real-life shelling by the New Zealand army. It all adds to the overall atmosphere of the film.
3D = less
The film itself is a masterpiece of technical innovation that will change in the future the way in which we should be able to see this sort of early film footage forever. As a documentary it’s near-perfection. But if I have a criticism of the cinema showing I attended it is that the 3D tended to detract rather than add to the film. Perhaps this is just my eyesight, but 3D always tends to make images slightly more blurry. Where (like “Gravity”) there are great 3D effects to showcase, it’s worth the slight negative to get the massive positive. But here, there was no such benefit: 2D would have been better. For those in the UK (and possibly through other broadcasters worldwide) the film is being shown on BBC2 tonight (11/11/18) at 9:30: I will be watching it again to compare and contrast.
Final Thoughts
Jackson dedicated the film to his grandfather. And almost all of us Brits will have relatives affected by this “war to end all wars”. In my case, my grandfather was shot and severely wounded at Leuze Wood on the Somme, lying in the mud for four days and four nights before being recovered… by the Germans! Fortunately he was well-treated and, although dying young, recovered enough to father my father – else I wouldn’t be here today writing this. On this Rememberance Sunday, 100 years on, it is a time for us to truly remember the sacrifice these men and boys gave to what, all in the film agree, was a pretty obstinate and pointless conflict.
I’ll finish the review by reproducing one of the war poems of my wife’s Uncle Ivor (available in a collection here), written on 11/11/18 a hundred years ago:
Peace
At last O Lord the Day has come,
And hushed is now the noise of guns.
Peace is proclaimed over land and sea,
Our heartfelt thanks we give to Thee.
I thank thee Father for Thy care,
That thou hasn’t answered all my prayers.
This day I see in manhood’s strength,
The Peace we longed for, come at length.
O may my future actions be,
Worthy of all Thy care to me.
Let me forget not Thy Great Love,
Remembering chums who live Above.
I.G.H. 11/11/1918, France.
The results are outstanding. Jackson wisely focuses the film on the specific slice of WW1 action from the trenches. And those anonymous figures become real, live, breathing humans on screen. It is obviously tragic that some (and as commented by Jackson, many in one scene) are not to be breathing humans for much longer.
These effects take a while to kick in. The early scenes in the documentary are in the original black and white, describing the recruitment process, and how many of the recruits were under-age. (To explain the varied comments in the film, they should have been 18, although officially shouldn’t have been sent overseas until 19).
It is when the troops arrive in France that we suddenly go from black-and-white to the fully restored and colourised footage, and it is a gasp-inducing moment.
Audio magic
All of the audio commentary is from original BBC recordings of war veterans recounting their actual experiences in the trench. Some sound like heroes; some sound like rogues; all came out changed men. Supporting music of WW1 ditties, including the incredibly rude “Mademoiselle from Armentières” over the end credits, is provided by Plan 9.
But equally impressive is the dubbing of the characters onscreen. Jackson employed forensic lip-readers to determine what the soldiers on-screen were saying, and reproduced the speech using appropriate regional accents for the regiments concerned. Jackson also recounts how the words associated with a “pep-talk” speech to troops by an officer he found on an original slip of paper within the regimental records: outstanding. Added sound effects include real-life shelling by the New Zealand army. It all adds to the overall atmosphere of the film.
3D = less
The film itself is a masterpiece of technical innovation that will change in the future the way in which we should be able to see this sort of early film footage forever. As a documentary it’s near-perfection. But if I have a criticism of the cinema showing I attended it is that the 3D tended to detract rather than add to the film. Perhaps this is just my eyesight, but 3D always tends to make images slightly more blurry. Where (like “Gravity”) there are great 3D effects to showcase, it’s worth the slight negative to get the massive positive. But here, there was no such benefit: 2D would have been better. For those in the UK (and possibly through other broadcasters worldwide) the film is being shown on BBC2 tonight (11/11/18) at 9:30: I will be watching it again to compare and contrast.
Final Thoughts
Jackson dedicated the film to his grandfather. And almost all of us Brits will have relatives affected by this “war to end all wars”. In my case, my grandfather was shot and severely wounded at Leuze Wood on the Somme, lying in the mud for four days and four nights before being recovered… by the Germans! Fortunately he was well-treated and, although dying young, recovered enough to father my father – else I wouldn’t be here today writing this. On this Rememberance Sunday, 100 years on, it is a time for us to truly remember the sacrifice these men and boys gave to what, all in the film agree, was a pretty obstinate and pointless conflict.
I’ll finish the review by reproducing one of the war poems of my wife’s Uncle Ivor (available in a collection here), written on 11/11/18 a hundred years ago:
Peace
At last O Lord the Day has come,
And hushed is now the noise of guns.
Peace is proclaimed over land and sea,
Our heartfelt thanks we give to Thee.
I thank thee Father for Thy care,
That thou hasn’t answered all my prayers.
This day I see in manhood’s strength,
The Peace we longed for, come at length.
O may my future actions be,
Worthy of all Thy care to me.
Let me forget not Thy Great Love,
Remembering chums who live Above.
I.G.H. 11/11/1918, France.
Piper (13 KP) rated Strangers: Prey at Night (2018) in Movies
Nov 27, 2019
Real-feeling Characters (2 more)
Escalating Tension
Some Excellent Scenes
Some Naff Shots (1 more)
Hammy Acting
Contains spoilers, click to show
I’ve heard a lot of trash about this movie, and only some of it is right. Don’t get me wrong - it has its downfalls. We’ll get to those. But it’s a genuinely fun horror movie and, considering the predictability of the slasher genre, it’s fairly terrifying: the suspense doesn’t let up from damn near the beginning. For full disclosure, I haven’t seen the original Strangers movie, and I’ve heard it’s a whole lot better than this 2018 sequel. But the fact that Prey at Night stands successfully alone as a movie means it doesn’t matter which order you watch them in - all I’d say is that it’s probably best not to pay much attention to the reviews on this one (as sefl-destructive as a comment like that might be). It’s impressive in its own right, and if this apparently-subpar sequel is anything to go by, the original must be worthwhile. I’ll let you know once I’ve actually seen it.
Now, onto the juicy stuff. There really isn’t a whole lot of bad to this movie, and what there is is fairly standard for modern horror movies. The plot is fairly predictable: people with knives hunt down people without (the good guys do have a single gun between them, and in a display that makes you genuinely shout at your television it never gets used); a dysfunctional American family gets torn completely apart; every single time you think the evil nasty villain man is dead, he stands up, just a little out of our good guy’s eyeline. It’s fairly repetitive - how much story can you get out of some knives and masks and a little bit of running? - and while it nicely strays from the standard twisty ending, there’s a hint of danger at the end that a) doesn’t make sense, b) doesn’t mean anything, and c) isn’t explored or explained so falls very short of what it’s trying to do. And that’s nearly all the bad out of the way, but I’d like to give an honourable mention to some very corny Raimi-esque camera zooms that, momentarily, take the viewer completely out of the film and just look terrible.
Having said that, most of the camerawork is good - shaky where it needs to be, dead straight when it works. There are some claustrophobic close-ups that leave you wondering just what the director’s hiding out of frame. And while watching a creepily-masked figure loom silently into frame can get a little less scary every time, it’s certainly well-shot. Despite the pitfalls, most of which are just so easy to slip into, the good parts to this movie mostly fall into the categories of character work and nice, understated gore. The bloody parts are suitably bloody, but they don’t become unrealistic. In fact, there are gory moments that seem meticulously well-crafted and you can almost feel the pain. The characters are annoying at times, they all have their own quirks and tightly-wound baggage, and there are places where their obviously set-up arcs just don’t get the resolution they need - hang on, why do I think this is a good film?
Here’s why. Because it’s real. People don’t always get resolution (okay, it isn’t always because one of the conflicting characters dies about five minutes into the experience, but we don’t always get closure, we don’t always get to fix relationships before it’s too late). The characters in this film are, despite everything, quite likeable once you get to know them, and there’s a truly heartbreaking moment fairly early on that can’t be shunned. The injuries these characters sustain throughout don’t just go away - they stick around, for the most part, slow them down, make them vulnerable. The setting is unassuming until you realise this family are literally the only characters in the film that aren’t dead (and quite beautifully mutilated) or wielding a knife/axe/pickup truck - and if you dare make the connection between a spooky trailer park and a certain Camp Crystal Lake, it makes sense. The slashers themselves are fairly unoriginal (I’m really trying not to stray into the negatives again) but they’re human. They can die. Their motives are revealed in a simple, nicely-put “Why not?” and it’s clear they don’t need a reason, this is just fun for them. The masks, obviously, add a little layer of creep, and there’s a swimming pool scene that really is quite beautifully done. Watching people get murdered to a corny, cheerful eighties soundtrack might get irritating, if it wasn’t established that that’s just a chilling preference of the primary slasher character. The popping-up-out-of-nowhere gimmick might get a little annoying if it wasn’t established that really, this is just that kind of movie. The fact that we never find out what Kenzie did to get her shipped off to boarding school, or who Tamara was (should I have seen the first movie? I’ll have to watch it soon or I just might be lambasted for my ignorance) didn't put us too out-of-place, because there are enough wonderful gore and inventive set-piece-driven slasher moments to remind you that, hang on, you don't really need to know. The tension builds, and it builds, and oh it keeps on building right until the end, and it’s the one thing about this film that's masterfully done.
At the end of the day, this isn’t a great movie. It’s certainly not perfect. But it’s good. It feels real, and it feels, in places, genuinely terrifying. It’s a fun watch and it hasn’t been ridiculously drawn-out like some recent films (I’m looking at you, Chapter Two) so it’s quick, it’s choppy, and there’s a half-decent scare every now and then. Will it scar you for life? Depends how you feel about Kim Wilde.
Now, onto the juicy stuff. There really isn’t a whole lot of bad to this movie, and what there is is fairly standard for modern horror movies. The plot is fairly predictable: people with knives hunt down people without (the good guys do have a single gun between them, and in a display that makes you genuinely shout at your television it never gets used); a dysfunctional American family gets torn completely apart; every single time you think the evil nasty villain man is dead, he stands up, just a little out of our good guy’s eyeline. It’s fairly repetitive - how much story can you get out of some knives and masks and a little bit of running? - and while it nicely strays from the standard twisty ending, there’s a hint of danger at the end that a) doesn’t make sense, b) doesn’t mean anything, and c) isn’t explored or explained so falls very short of what it’s trying to do. And that’s nearly all the bad out of the way, but I’d like to give an honourable mention to some very corny Raimi-esque camera zooms that, momentarily, take the viewer completely out of the film and just look terrible.
Having said that, most of the camerawork is good - shaky where it needs to be, dead straight when it works. There are some claustrophobic close-ups that leave you wondering just what the director’s hiding out of frame. And while watching a creepily-masked figure loom silently into frame can get a little less scary every time, it’s certainly well-shot. Despite the pitfalls, most of which are just so easy to slip into, the good parts to this movie mostly fall into the categories of character work and nice, understated gore. The bloody parts are suitably bloody, but they don’t become unrealistic. In fact, there are gory moments that seem meticulously well-crafted and you can almost feel the pain. The characters are annoying at times, they all have their own quirks and tightly-wound baggage, and there are places where their obviously set-up arcs just don’t get the resolution they need - hang on, why do I think this is a good film?
Here’s why. Because it’s real. People don’t always get resolution (okay, it isn’t always because one of the conflicting characters dies about five minutes into the experience, but we don’t always get closure, we don’t always get to fix relationships before it’s too late). The characters in this film are, despite everything, quite likeable once you get to know them, and there’s a truly heartbreaking moment fairly early on that can’t be shunned. The injuries these characters sustain throughout don’t just go away - they stick around, for the most part, slow them down, make them vulnerable. The setting is unassuming until you realise this family are literally the only characters in the film that aren’t dead (and quite beautifully mutilated) or wielding a knife/axe/pickup truck - and if you dare make the connection between a spooky trailer park and a certain Camp Crystal Lake, it makes sense. The slashers themselves are fairly unoriginal (I’m really trying not to stray into the negatives again) but they’re human. They can die. Their motives are revealed in a simple, nicely-put “Why not?” and it’s clear they don’t need a reason, this is just fun for them. The masks, obviously, add a little layer of creep, and there’s a swimming pool scene that really is quite beautifully done. Watching people get murdered to a corny, cheerful eighties soundtrack might get irritating, if it wasn’t established that that’s just a chilling preference of the primary slasher character. The popping-up-out-of-nowhere gimmick might get a little annoying if it wasn’t established that really, this is just that kind of movie. The fact that we never find out what Kenzie did to get her shipped off to boarding school, or who Tamara was (should I have seen the first movie? I’ll have to watch it soon or I just might be lambasted for my ignorance) didn't put us too out-of-place, because there are enough wonderful gore and inventive set-piece-driven slasher moments to remind you that, hang on, you don't really need to know. The tension builds, and it builds, and oh it keeps on building right until the end, and it’s the one thing about this film that's masterfully done.
At the end of the day, this isn’t a great movie. It’s certainly not perfect. But it’s good. It feels real, and it feels, in places, genuinely terrifying. It’s a fun watch and it hasn’t been ridiculously drawn-out like some recent films (I’m looking at you, Chapter Two) so it’s quick, it’s choppy, and there’s a half-decent scare every now and then. Will it scar you for life? Depends how you feel about Kim Wilde.
Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Moonlighting in TV
Aug 6, 2020
Contains spoilers, click to show
Another dip into the retro TV archive as part of that odd period in lockdown when all I could do for my watching fix was find old shows with full episodes on You Tube. My favourite show when I was a teenager happened to be one of those, with most of seasons 1 and 5 out there, and a small selection from the middle years.
If you were to make a time capsule to show aliens what the mid to late 80s looked like, look no further than this madcap rom-com drama that ran for 66 episodes between 1985 and 1989. The shoulder pads, the hairdos, the slip on shoes, the large chunks of cheesiness, it’s all there. Some of the coloured silks Maddie Hayes (Cybill Shepherd) wears have to be seen to be believed.
It was the first show to get free reign creatively from a network, with ABC trusting Glenn Gordon Carol, fresh from success with Remington Steele, to create something cool and hip. At the peak of its success it was costing $1.6m per episode, with Bruce Willis’ pay check becoming a big chunk of that, as his ego inflated and his star rose.
They auditioned close to 600 actors for the role of glib, fast talking sleuth David Addison, before taking a risk on an out of work nobody the producers had heard singing karaoke in an LA bar. The phenomenal buzz around Bruce Willis in 1985 is hard to imagine now, but he was literally the biggest star on TV, and once Die Hard came along in 1988, he gave the movie star thing a good go too.
Famous for its post-modern take on episode content, with overlapping dialogue, direct address to camera, in jokes and endless references to current events and the show itself, it was a knowingly self-conscious misfit. Nothing had ever been like this. Nothing, even close. It was funny, cool, had mass appeal and could seemingly do no wrong, breaking ratings records all over the place.
But all was not paradise on set. Shepherd and Willis were never pals, and at the worst actively despised one another, often refusing to film scenes if they thought the other one was too much the focus – which in Shepherd’s case was often a weird anachronistic soft focus, that attempted to make her look like a vintage movie star. They argued, fell out, made up and threw tantrums just like the characters they played. And scripts for the unusual hour long format were often so late, they filmed filler scenes whilst they were being finished on set!
This allowed for an unparalleled voice in American TV land. They got away with some very terse comments and innuendo bordering on smut, that slipped under the network radar, simply because the show was being edited minutes before it was shown. By season four it was really falling apart, as episodes got more surreal and used the breaking of the fourth wall more often, in a desperate attempt just to keep going.
Ostensibly, it was a detective show. But it was never about the cases. The sleuthing was only a background to the will they won’t they romance of Maddie and David, facilitated by the ever present Allyce Beasley as Agnes DiPesto, the rhyming receptionist, that was the only other cast member to appear in all 66 shows apart from the two stars. Early on the mystery plots and crimes to be solved were taken semi seriously; with a peak in season three where it actually approached proper drama. But by the end it was all about Willis goofing around, at the expense of any recognisable story.
Let’s face it, looking back on it now it has aged a whole bunch in a lot of bad ways. You aren’t really going to indulge in it for anything other than nostalgia reasons. But I was a huge, huge fan, and so for me it was a real trip to see it again. I never missed it as a kid, and would sulk if anything threatened to stop me watching it as it aired. I had every episode taped on VHS and could quote entire episodes, I had watched them so much.
It all ended too soon for me, but not soon enough for them. Shepherd got pregnant, Willis took the break to go and make some mid budget action film, and the rest is history. To this day, footage of them reminiscing about it is a fascinating but awkward watch, as they clearing still can’t agree on anything and thinly veil their contempt for each other. Willis’ ego does not come out of it well, but David Addison will always remain the one character that formed my personality via TV in those days, for better or worse.
If you were to make a time capsule to show aliens what the mid to late 80s looked like, look no further than this madcap rom-com drama that ran for 66 episodes between 1985 and 1989. The shoulder pads, the hairdos, the slip on shoes, the large chunks of cheesiness, it’s all there. Some of the coloured silks Maddie Hayes (Cybill Shepherd) wears have to be seen to be believed.
It was the first show to get free reign creatively from a network, with ABC trusting Glenn Gordon Carol, fresh from success with Remington Steele, to create something cool and hip. At the peak of its success it was costing $1.6m per episode, with Bruce Willis’ pay check becoming a big chunk of that, as his ego inflated and his star rose.
They auditioned close to 600 actors for the role of glib, fast talking sleuth David Addison, before taking a risk on an out of work nobody the producers had heard singing karaoke in an LA bar. The phenomenal buzz around Bruce Willis in 1985 is hard to imagine now, but he was literally the biggest star on TV, and once Die Hard came along in 1988, he gave the movie star thing a good go too.
Famous for its post-modern take on episode content, with overlapping dialogue, direct address to camera, in jokes and endless references to current events and the show itself, it was a knowingly self-conscious misfit. Nothing had ever been like this. Nothing, even close. It was funny, cool, had mass appeal and could seemingly do no wrong, breaking ratings records all over the place.
But all was not paradise on set. Shepherd and Willis were never pals, and at the worst actively despised one another, often refusing to film scenes if they thought the other one was too much the focus – which in Shepherd’s case was often a weird anachronistic soft focus, that attempted to make her look like a vintage movie star. They argued, fell out, made up and threw tantrums just like the characters they played. And scripts for the unusual hour long format were often so late, they filmed filler scenes whilst they were being finished on set!
This allowed for an unparalleled voice in American TV land. They got away with some very terse comments and innuendo bordering on smut, that slipped under the network radar, simply because the show was being edited minutes before it was shown. By season four it was really falling apart, as episodes got more surreal and used the breaking of the fourth wall more often, in a desperate attempt just to keep going.
Ostensibly, it was a detective show. But it was never about the cases. The sleuthing was only a background to the will they won’t they romance of Maddie and David, facilitated by the ever present Allyce Beasley as Agnes DiPesto, the rhyming receptionist, that was the only other cast member to appear in all 66 shows apart from the two stars. Early on the mystery plots and crimes to be solved were taken semi seriously; with a peak in season three where it actually approached proper drama. But by the end it was all about Willis goofing around, at the expense of any recognisable story.
Let’s face it, looking back on it now it has aged a whole bunch in a lot of bad ways. You aren’t really going to indulge in it for anything other than nostalgia reasons. But I was a huge, huge fan, and so for me it was a real trip to see it again. I never missed it as a kid, and would sulk if anything threatened to stop me watching it as it aired. I had every episode taped on VHS and could quote entire episodes, I had watched them so much.
It all ended too soon for me, but not soon enough for them. Shepherd got pregnant, Willis took the break to go and make some mid budget action film, and the rest is history. To this day, footage of them reminiscing about it is a fascinating but awkward watch, as they clearing still can’t agree on anything and thinly veil their contempt for each other. Willis’ ego does not come out of it well, but David Addison will always remain the one character that formed my personality via TV in those days, for better or worse.