hofnarr

There were two required courses my freshman year in high school that I recall for one or two reasons - "Comparative Economic Systems" I remember for the example of the price of hula hoops in regards to supply and demand and fads, et cetera. If the book is still being published a reference to the Coen brothers "The Hudsucker Proxy" would be a good update. As for "Comparative Political Systems" I vaguely remember something about the Kwakiutl Indians, but what remains sharply in focus 40 years later was the result of the assignment to watch this film.

If it seemed somewhat fantastic [3. imaginary or groundless in not being based on reality; foolish or irrational: fantastic fears] then, 40 years later it's not so unrealistic. While "death panels" are not mentioned per se in the film, cutting off medical aid to folks over 65 can be problematic if you're diabetic - as was the character of Senator Quincy George played by Emmett Evan Heflin Jr, and, as the trivia section notes "This TV movie was Van Heflin's final performance. He died of a heart attack three months before the original broadcast..." BTW - to avoid a spoiler don't read all of the trivia - I've truncated it so the spoiler doesn't show.

I don't want to write much more without seeing it again - memories of films forty years past may not be entirely reliable - but it made quite an impression on a young teenager raised in an extremely conservative environment. I've read most if not all of Philip Kindred Dick's short stories written in the 1950's and wonder at how prescient he was with many of them. "The Last Child" was the first produced script by Peter S. Fischer, to my knowledge. He won an Edgar Allan Poe Award for an episode of "Murder, She Wrote" and several Emmy nominations for other of these episodes. He would go on to work with the director, John Llewellyn Moxey, on a number of the "Murder, She Wrote," episodes.

I saw this when it first came out, and just finished seeing it now on DVD - 22 years later it's lost none of its charm. The music by Mark Knopfler is wonderful; it's just a little bit of a shame that more people know the music from the CD soundtrack than know the film. The interplay of the village folk, from the baby whose parentage is only obliquely implied (if that) to the nameless motorcycle rider to the old man at the ceilidh dance wistfully reminiscing "Four generations of working that farm, digging and draining and planting - years and years and it comes to this . . ." and the his friend asks him how much he's been offered. "One and a half million in cash, plus 2% of the relocation fund, and a share in the oil field revenues," takes you into the flow of the town life, and you really don't want to leave.

Ah yes, strange times indeed.

From the unexpected fate of Trudy (or Harry) the rabbit to the final resolution of just what *will* happen to the town, director Bill Forsyth's light touch and pacing lets you slide into the rhythm of this small Scottish seaside town - not quite a Brigadoon, but my revisiting it after 22 years found it just as fresh and delightful.

I must admit, though, that I'm still not sure what to make of Moritz, the unconventional "therapist" in the first part of the film; he does serve to highlight eccentricities that Happer has, and there are are some amusing bits with him, but it took me out of the film somewhat. I found myself wondering more what might have inspired Bill Forsyth's writing here than carrying me along with the story.

No matter where a Jewish family may live in the world, and what other languages they may speak, theological tradition pretty much mandates that Hebrew will be spoken. This film takes a look at the family life of a Jewish boy preparing a bar mitzvah. It's a nice snapshot slice of life: Rafael is followed through his preparation, the Moré assuring him that *everyone* gets nervous, and that he'll do fine. Rafael's father runs a plumbing/kitchen/bath fixtures store, and the More' - and others in the film - have him relay messages of need and/or thanks for jobs; his mother's dealing with seating of different families that don't want to be seated with others; Rafael's other brother razzes his younger sister about a friend who thinks she's hot; his mother asks him about his session with the cosmetologist for his acne.

There may be a tangential comment on the economy of the country, as the other brother mentions that he got a gift of $100 from a family who gave Rafael $50; the mother says "Times are different now." In a 13-minute piece, you get a nice overview of the family and the event - although I'm not quite certain that the closing scene is a standard feature in bar mitzvah's! This was shown along with the Uruguyan film WHISKY as part of the Global Lens Initiative 2005.

If you want to get involved in deep philosophical pondering about what the images in this film represent you could spend quite a bit of time, either in general thought, or in what the filmmaker may be saying obliquely about life in Iran in a way to get by official censorship.

If you just want to enjoy the colors, shapes, and movements of the animation, you will not be disappointed.

This wordless tale of a sunflower behind a brick wall (almost visited by a bee, a dragonfly, a butterfly - it beckons with one of its leaves - seemingly to no avail) yearning for the rays of the sun is a delightful animated gem.

Nice opening and closing 3-dimensional effect zooming into (and out of, at the end) an elaborately embroidered tapestry having the characters of the story - mother goat and 3 kids, fox, snake, bird, and personality-imbued sun, cloud, and magic carpet - and their environment colorfully depicted.

Some nice whimsical touches - the sun tickles a cloud to get rain, and throws little fireballs at the fox when he's trying to enter the goat's house through the roof - and the cloud quickly rains on the roof when it catches on fire. In the face-off between the mother goat and the wolf, she burnishes her horns while he is flossing his teeth immediately before the conflict.

Both the wolf and the egg-stealing snake get their comeuppance at the end and tranquility is regained.

Whatever the origin of fables/fairy tales, there are common threads in both Iranian and American tales - and anyone from any culture could be easily involved in the story told here.

"When everyone has PhD's, the last garbageman on Earth is going to make a fortune . . ."

Quite a fascinating piece of film. It switches from one occupation to the other, although not quite with the complexity of Erol Morris's "Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control", where you start to see connections between the (seemingly disparate) jobs as the voiceovers about one occupation start to play over visuals of another.

But very interesting - if only to jog your mind into thinking about things you'd might not ever think about otherwise.

The septic tank cleaners segments reminded me of Asimov's short story "Ragusnik" (or some similar spelling). It's in his "Nightfall" collection of short stories.

Seemingly set somewhere in a rather bleak near future, Simon keeps working on code for a program. He never quite gets it finished and after continued threats of termination is finally fired. This is the least of his worries.

Every so often he runs out to the store for milk and other items. He doesn't buy all that much, but the prices (in whatever undefined currency) keep on going up. "Twenty-one fifty two" "Thirty-two fifty-two" "Eighty-seven fifty-seven".

Simon seems to have a thing for milk - another resident is big on Kola 500 - and the building super is well-stocked on Farm Cut meat. Why these monomanias, which nobody seems to recognize as such? And what's with all these empty packages arriving anonymously at Simon's?

There seem to be little bits and pieces peeking out from other science fiction works throughout the film:

"You're in the game - do you want to lead, or do you want to follow?" sounds like eXistenZ;

"I can show you things" - shades of Roy Batty's comment to the ocular genetic engineer in Blade Runner -"If you could see what I've seen with your eyes";

the "vision box" seemed somewhat similar to the "Mercer box" in PKD's "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?";

the premise of Frederick Pohl's "The Tunnel Under the World" (Alternating Currents) seems to feed into the food monomania(s).

There's a bit of the tension between "there's nothing new under the sun" by the writer of Ecclesiastes and Goethe's "everything has been thought of before; the trouble is to think of it again," throughout the film. I kept wondering if (and hoping that) the film would become more than the sum of its parts.

It had its moments of dry humor - "What happened to your couch? I thought it cleaned itself?"

"It's broken."

No matter how sophisticated technology gets there'll always be a need for repair - no doubt increasing with the complexity of the system.

Detectives stop by to see Simon - he tries to avoid them. He gets the phone call termination: "Simon J.? You're fired." Simon tries to explain the difficulties he's been dealing with - the reasons his work's been delayed. What's this project all about, anyway?

"We only work on a specific part - we don't know the big picture."

Perhaps a few more viewings will put more pieces together.

Tolstoy said that happy families were all alike; unhappy families are unhappy in their own distinct way.

In this family, grandmother Tosia - who dug ditches at the front in WWII, took care of her daughter's children, and divided the proceeds of the sale of her house to her two sons and daughter - is threatened with homelessness. Regardless of her sacrifices in the past for her extended family, scarcely any of her relatives express willingness to take her in. And the more well-off they are, the more antipathy they seem to possess.

Not necessarily a pleasant theme - but one probably existent in all cultures to some extent.

Drew, a comic strip writer in NYC, still grieving over the death of a friend in 9/11, gets his publisher to agree to a limited run of "Justice". He finds someone in a pick-up basketball game who fits the type for this comic book about an ordinary person who is a hero - but doesn't get around to getting his permission to use background materials. (background biography, images, etc) which puts Drew in a less-than-ideal situation. Although this is resolved, Drew seems more focused on the character of "Justice" to be dealing out retribution to evil-doers rather than just helping people. This is at odds with the person "Justice" is based on, and disturbs the writer when the more benevolent views surface in a Village Voice article. The "spunky" journalist helps Drew see that however great his grief, life must go on.

Brilliant, concise film with an ending twist you may not see coming . ..

SPOILERS

I know I shouldn't be too hard on this film - the music was almost as good as Mike Figgis's in COLD CREEK MANOR and the plot implausibilities requiring substantial suspension of disbelief no more so than in THE BONE COLLECTOR - both of which spent quite a bit more funds than this endeavor.

And I'm sure Mr. Simpson had a good time playing with all the digital video goodies available - but I had a hard time connecting with/ caring about the people in the village.

I didn't particularly find the time limitation all that compelling (perhaps I was just slow on the uptake there) and while I can believe a police dispatcher might continue reading a romance novel to the end of a paragraph or so before answering the phone, I would find it hard to believe that there wouldn't be caller identification equipment of some kind, even in a remote Scottish village - or wherever the nearest police station would be (I probably should've checked the last time I was in Thurso, Mey, and John O'Groats, but I didn't; I may be talking out of turn).

I did find some humor that may (or may not) have been inadvertent - the best was when the Hitman is trying to pick off the two boys and has succeeded in putting a crossbow arrow through the thigh of one of them. The other boy with the gun (who has suddenly figured out how to fire it - with a rather large number of shots - after an extended sequence in which he couldn't get any shots off at all) runs over to him and says "Don't go anywhere!"

OK.

Maybe I had my expectations too high. Maybe I relied too much on an IMDb rating generated by 7 people, 5 of whom also wrote comments for this film and no other ones. Maybe I was just having a bad day.

But I saw a film from Thailand which was 121 minutes long right before this film - and there seemed to be a lot less ticks in that one than the 85 minutes in this one.

But as the Ed Wood character (played by Johnny Depp) says, after being told that a film of his is the worst some person has ever seen: "Well, my next one is going to be better!"

Alarm clock rings. Black and white segmented human form gets up. The alarm runs down, the human figure is full form and begins to exercise. Snatches of music heard, as if radio is being tuned across the dial. Knee bends. Push ups. Smidgens of piano music and flashes of light. A violin plays. The man puts on a suit, goes outside and the film is in color - birds and train sounds are heard.

He starts the motorcycle.

From this point on the piano (and other instruments - variously string bass, trumpet, violin, cello) play counter-point to the rhythm of the engine. Images of train yards, people walking, soldiers marching, varied animals and other items impinge upon the eyes - some shapes morphing into others fluidly.

Incredibly proficient technically; one viewing certainly not sufficient for any sort of lucid analysis. Quite the experience.

Piotr Dumula's "Lagodna" was adapted from the same source as Bresson's "Une Femme Douce" (1969)- Dostoevsky's 1876 story "A Gentle Spirit" (aka "A Gentle Creature", "A Gentle Spirit"). The film begins with the ticking of a grandfather clock, a woman lying silently in a bed and a man watching her. Dumala animates the story (using heavy plaster plates) with effective use of fades, close-ups, extreme close-ups, and morphing of materials (partway through the film a tablecloth is pulled by the woman; in a fluid movement it has become the bedsheet from the opening scene. At different times the hands of the clock move backwards - once, moving forward the hands morph into the man. The woman screams and her face takes on the likeness of the Munch painting. A buzzing fly landing on the woman's face in the first sequence re-appears on her face toward the end - she makes no response. The man slaps the fly on her face - the room begins to fade leaving the man by himself on a chair. The clock continues to tick as we fade to an empty room . ..

One of the more intriguing images in this film is produced with the "hide the moon with a dime" trick, where the woman is in the foreground and you don't see anything in the background, then you start to, but it takes a while before what's going on actually sinks in. Definitely a much nicer feeling than finally figuring out what's happening in Alejandro Gonzalez In~arritu's segment of SEPTEMBER 11.

Altogether a fun and interesting film, complete with some Jack Kerouac readings, a Hawaiian ballad and the Ravens singing the 1950's hit "Count Every Star". The woman tries her hand (not very successfully) at different carny games. She occasionally looks back at the camera, seemingly to make sure we are following her. In a number of the shots the person (or couple) just stand still while the lights and action whiz about them.

Manijeh Hekmat was an assistant director for nearly a dozen feature films and a producer of 5 in the past decade. Although qualified to get a permit from the Iranian Society of Film Directors for her first feature film, ultimately she had to get the directing permit in her husband's name. The film was shot in real jails (the budget didn't allow for construction) in 75 days.

"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Lord Acton

People who seem most fitted to wield power are sometimes the most reluctant to seek such a position. Those who do so, even for altruistic, idealistic reasons (or are persuaded to do so by others) may find it difficult to keep a clear vision, no matter how pure their original motives. As in almost any profession, there is the danger of burnout.

Over a 17-year period (winter 1984, spring 1991 or 1992, and winter 2001 are the focal points) we follow Tahereh (the new warden) and her relationships with the prisoners. Most of the inmates don't think there will be any real change. One person says the new warden was in the militia, at the front lines in the revolution. Another wonders if it's possible that things will change. An older prisoner declaims that "These guys are all thieves!"

When requests are met with insolence, a crackdown ensues - no visitors for a month - no cigarettes - lockdown. The prisoners include a political monarchist, a Bahai, and a murderer - although the latter killed her stepfather in defense of her mother. When the murderer complains of conditions in the jail, specifically of lice infestation, the warden challenges her - "Why don't you come to me and I will fix your problems." The other inmates try to dissuade her; she shrugs them off. Mitra meets with Tahereh - who does indeed take care of the problem; she has her hair shorn off.

Mitra had 3 years of midwifery school which comes in handy when a woman starts to deliver during a lockdown. She also attempts to prevent a rape of a young inmate by an older woman.

Mitra and Tahereh spar throughout the film although they begin to have respect for each other, little by little. Although there are visible signs of aging throughout the 17 year period of the film it's hard to say which of the two women are worn down the most. Mitra attains the honorary title of "Auntie" - it's not shown if she delivered more babies while in prison, but the population increases throughout the years and this does not exclude young children.

When Mitra finally gains her release, the women all cry out "Cheers for Aunti Mira". At the gates of the prison Mitra walks out into the light after a sequence of shot/reverse angle shots between her and Tahereh. The gates close, Tahereh stands alone in the dark, turns and walks away as the screen fades to black. The film cuts to shots of empty cells with cello music over the end credits.

***Mild spoiler***

- or perhaps a possible help in following the story line after you've seen the film if you have problems keeping some of the characters straight - The actress Pegah Ahangarani plays 3 different roles in the film: the political monarchist, the young girl sexually assaulted by the older woman, and a street-smart urchin who is linked with Mitra, although neither of them know this at first.

SPOILERS

In the case of the death penalty, how is guilt assigned? Is it distributed equally upon the jurors who have determined guilt? Or upon the judge who pronounces the sentence? Or by the person who throws the switch on the electric chair, trips the trap door for the hanging, or inserts the needle for death by lethal injection? (And if the latter, does the skin get swabbed with an alcohol pad at the point of injection - and if so, why?) Or are the members of a country as a whole where a death penalty can be given responsible? With the rise in scientific knowledge and technology, more and more prisoners on death row - or headed there - have had their innocence affirmed.

But what of those who have been exonerated only after death (or, as some would have it, state-sanctioned murder) ? Who is guilty of the miscarriage of justice?

NIZHALKKUTHU (SHADOW KILL) takes place in the early 1940's. One man asks another while strolling down a path through a verdant field in southern India if the Maharajah is guilty of the death of a prisoner by execution. The answer is that royalty has worked out a rather ingenious way to circumvent any guilt or sin in the situation. Just before the condemned man is executed, the Maharajah gives a complete and full pardon. But by the time the official messenger arrives with the message, the execution has already happened.

"So who is guilty then?"

The response to this question is silence.

The two men have been talking about The Hangman of that region, Kaliyappan. While this official position accords many benefits from the Maharajah, it tends to put The Hangman (and his family - the position is passed on to the son) at a distance from society. But in a hanging not long ago an innocent man was executed. This event has been hanging heavily on The Hangman, who has fallen into heavy drinking as a way to dull the guilt he feels.

His official position includes an important function as a healer. After a criminal is hung, the rope used is suspended in his home over an altar to Kali. Those who are sick come to him. He cuts strands from the rope, burns them while making supplication to Kali, and applies the resulting holy ash to the infirm person. Whatever anguish he is feeling hasn't affected his healing powers; they seem even more robust.

But when news of another hanging is brought by an official, The Hangman pleads that he is not well - can't it be postponed until he is feeling better? The official notes all the benefits from The Hangman's position, and, after all - it's not such a strenuous thing - things must proceed as planned. Who has ever heard of an execution being postponed?

His wife and son assist him with the necessary ablutions before execution. His son Muthu accompanies him to the place where the execution will take place the next day. They sit with other officials that evening. Muthu is there, ostensibly supporting his father, although he sits apart from his father and the others. He seems even further removed in spirit. He has been doing some work with followers of Ghandi; perhaps he is disquieted somewhat by his father's occupation. He does not join the circle until admonished by the others, and his joining in the ritual drinking is decidedly reluctant.

The night before the hanging, Kaliyappan says he is very tired and doesn't think he can stay awake. But he is told he *must* stay awake - the person to be hanged will no doubt not sleep the night before his execution - and neither should The Hangman. They begin telling stories to keep him awake.

The first is not received very well. One official has a story, but wonders if he should tell it. It is a story of a beautiful young woman who was brutally raped and murdered.

The storyteller is quite accomplished, with many details of the beautiful young girl just into womanhood who falls in love with a handsome young man and whose feelings are reciprocated. He is without family, having been orphaned at a young age. The story goes on for quite some time - a somewhat impatient listener gets reprimanded for asking at a particularly suspenseful moment if the villian was the young man. No, it was the brother-in-law of the young woman. He had never taken notice of her as a child but began lusting after her when she came of age.

One day the husband followed her as she went out in the countryside to meet the young man.

The young man is quite proficient in playing the flute. He begins to teach her. He leaves for a brief time; the brother-in-law commits the offenses. Although the young man is innocent, the broken flute at the scene points to him as the guilty party. Although everyone knows he is innocent, he has no family to defend him, no money for a lawyer - none of the privileges of the real perpetrator.

Partly into the story, Kaliyappan - who has continued drinking heavily, seems to give a start of recognition. The others ask him about his reaction but he shrugs it off. When the storyteller seems to have finished his tale Kaliyappan asks him what eventually happened to the young man - was his innocence confirmed?

The storyteller reacts as if Kaliyappan is a bit slow on the uptake; the young boy is the prisoner whom The Hangman will shortly be executing.

At this revelation, Kaliyappan quivers slightly and topples to the earth. The officials are in a quandry - the execution must be carried out - the son must be pressed into the service of his father's job.

The screen fades to black. A voice tells that this is what has happened. The innocent man was executed.

The pardon arrived not long after.

SPOILERS

Imagine the following as news items:

"Retired nurse died shortly after reuniting with son taken from her at age 10 months. She was 79; her son 57."

"Young woman escapes after 8 years of involuntary servitude from age 15. Captors "very very vicious" - other women punched, slapped, beaten with leather implements.

"Girl, 14, sexually assaulted; stripped naked numerous times."

"Captive woman beaten about head and shoulders; motivational speaker masturbated on top of her before speaking engagements."

Given the tenor of these times, these reports might not seem unusual. But these events occurred within ecclesiastical institutions - the Magdalene Asylums of Ireland. Andrew Sarris indicates in his article in the New York Observer "Magdalene Survivors Speak - British Doc Inspired Mullan's Film" (Feb 2, 2004) that already existing secular asylums were taken over by the Catholic church in the mid-1800's, although the last did not close until 1996.

The nurse, Christina Mulcahy (1918-1997), met a soldier in 1920 who gave a line still used today:

This is the only true way to show you love somebody.

Second visit:

You did it before, why can't you do it now?

"And that," she said, "was the time I got pregnant."

He wasn't a heartless cad; he came to see her and helped to name the baby. He didn't write her back, though. But as Christina said, "Then he was gone, and he wasn't getting the letters I was writing him."

"I would have married him - I loved him."

(Christina was on the verge of tears every time on screen; Sarris notes she only agreed to the interviews because she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She'd kept her secret for over 50 years by then).

Phyllis Valentine wasn't told for several years why, at age 15, she was transferred from an orphanage to a Magdalene Asylum laundry. A nun finally told her, "You're as pretty as a picture . . . the nuns were afraid you'd 'fall away'." (e.g. she was so pretty men might not be able to leave her alone . . . which might embarrass them - and would, of course, be Phyllis's fault). "I was put away for that reason only."

Martha Coomy (b. 1927) was working at a farm. A cousin took her to a fair. He had a bit of drink. He assaulted her. She confided in another cousin. The story percolated. She very quickly ended up doing laundry at a Magdalene asylum - "I got varicose veins from the ironing at 15." She was told working there was a privilege - "we'd be forgiven in time."

Brigid Young (b. 1939) was never in an asylum, but rather a nearby orphanage (she left in 1956). Contact with the Magdalene women was strictly forbidden. We were made to believe they were very, very bad people." She was taking laundry to be washed; an unmarried mother manage to sneak to the back gate and asked her to help her see her child (also at the orphanage) from a distance. But Brigid was caught before the mother could get away from the gate and severely beaten by the Reverend Mother. "And this was just for talking to the Magdalenes." (The "motivational speaker" mentioned in the opening paragraph was the priest she'd seen for confession afterwards. He gave the Mass after each assault).

Why has so much been reported on abuse of men and so little on women? The Church isn't opening its books; it's estimated that in the 20th century some 30,000 women entered the gates of the asylums; some never departed. Less than 10% of rapes are said to be reported. Shame - especially in a Catholic Ireland - could certainly be a sufficient reason.

When Christina originally went home, her father told her she wasn't coming to his house; she wasn't "right in the head" if she'd brought a child into the world.

After 8 years in an asylum Phyllis escaped to Dublin. "If somebody looked at you in the street you felt they were looking at you because you were bad . .. I thought people knew who I was . . .I was frightened to talk to anyone."

Martha: apart from the sexual abuse itself, "The biggest sin in Ireland . .. was to talk."

According to the Sarris article, no women in Ireland would talk to the director, Steve Humphries - only women who'd escaped to England.

Brigid left the orphanage in 1956. It had "a terrible effect . . . It haunts you." She had nothing good to say. "I didn't see anything godly in that Church. A bunch of bullies - that was all I saw . . . devils dressed up in nun's habits.

Phyllis: "Nuns weren't supposed to be evil . . . Sisters of Mercy . . . they didn't show us any mercy."

While making a general confession, a priest told Christina to come to his side of the confessional box. When she did, he was exposing himself. "You are not a man of God," she said. "You really are not a man of God."

Christina was told to be quiet and to keep her mouth shut.

SPOILERS

What a whiz-bang film! Almost 3 times as many trinkets in the bag as in the short story source! $92,016,000 instead of 50,000 credits in payment!

If I had my druthers, I'd prefer the screenwriter had stuck with and expanded the ideas in the original story instead of showing the self-actualization of a reverse-engineer epicurean who begins the film saying "Stuff you erase doesn't matter," and ends with "I never want to forget anything again." And what a big sacrifice he makes for his altruistic renunciation of that $92,016,000 - along with his knowledge of the future to save mankind, he works it so he wins a $90,000,000 lottery at the end. Does not compute.

PAYCHECK is one of my favorite Philip K. Dick stories. Not only does it have a number of interesting ideas in it, it's one in which there is an element of hope that people might be able to alter the dystopic world in which they live for the better. For a story written in 1952 and published in 1953 it's remarkably prescient. Imagine you're in a society where civil liberties once belonging to individuals have been ceded to corporations and the only entities able to resist government pressures are these very corporations. Much of this change has transpired during several years when you were doing classified work of an unspecified nature. A condition of the employment was that your memory, from the time you began work, until you were finished, would be wiped out.

You're finished with the assignment, found the world changed for the worse, and instead of getting the agreed payment, you get a bag of trinkets. And then you get picked up by the authorities, who want what you are literally unable to give them. In both the short story and the film, the first two items get Jennings away from the authorities. But the extra baker's dozen items seem more like lame props for John Woo's by-the-numbers action sequences than anything else.

The changes made cause a cascade of plot holes to open up, but as long as it looks flashy and you have lots of explosions, it doesn't make that much difference - right?

I hope the other Philip K. Dick properties in the pipeline don't fair as badly as this one.

Uma was nice to look at though.

You could probably devise a nifty video game from this treatment - but it ain't Philip K. Dick.

I couldn't tell you how many horses you see in this 10-minute cinemascope black and white short - lots and lots! You have a mare and her foal just after birth, horses being herded to different locations with the foal struggling to keep up, horsemen with nooses capturing horses, jockeys on horses, a horse carrier with 2 horses . . . and as you're marveling at the beauty and majesty of these equines, the images shift to sheep in pens, then horses being led through passages those in the west would associate more closely with bovines - more round-ups, horses jumping - the camera moves very close to the ground and you see shots of lots of hooves - sharp percussive bangs on the soundtrack . . . fade to credits - with the sound of hoofbeats and human chanting going on well after the credits have finished.

A cinema equine haiku, if you will.

Impressive.

Not playing soon at a multiplex near you.

"What he becomes depends mostly on you. Kindness wins over." So says the grandmother to the boy Kurmash about the wolf cub he's saved from death at the hands of his uncle.

Will Kurmash's kindness compensate for the cruelty of his uncle?

And is the uncle really cruel, or just trying to toughen up his orphaned nephew for a hard life ahead?

This film has a "Call of the Wild" flavor to it. The opening shot has the words "These events took place on a Kazakh steppe on the eve of the Great October Revolution."

The boy bonds with his adopted wolf, Kokserek; the uncle remains dubious, although he acknowledges that Kokserek could be "a watchdog for us and a wolf for others."

A missing flock of sheep, the honest "criminal" Khasen ("Why did they they put you in prison," he is asked - "We demanded bread for our work,") who is quick with proverbs ("Empty belly - sharp eyes," "Luck is the crutch that idiots depend on," "A good man will always find a way to be generous,") Kurmash, his grandmother, and uncle - the paths of all of these intersect - along with those of Kokserek and his lupine brethren. The outcome is far from certain. Khasen's parting words echo across the steppe - "You cannot fight evil with evil."

What is it with Jennifer Connelly characters and piers? I've not seen a majority of her work but I was reminded of scenes in both DARK CITY and REQUIEM FOR A DREAM that had her character looking out over a body of water. . . perhaps it's an evocative way of depicting new horizons, possibilities - except that usually it's not so much to show avenues of aspiration as to see them being inexorably blocked off.

Yes, there are a multitude of actions taken (and not taken) that alter the course of the realities of the people involved. Would changes of one (or more) of them alter the end result?

Perhaps.

But any particular action (or lack thereof) does not necessarily make the people less "human" or "believable". If you find it incomprehensible for someone to not open her mail over a period of time, be grateful that you've never experienced a depression so deep, or that you had friends to shield you from some of its effects. If you've never been dropped into the maw of a bureaucratic behemoth, likewise. If you've never been at the top of your form, protecting and providing for your family, and had the rug pulled out from under you . . . not to belabor the point; you may never find yourself at the end of the particular ropes these characters hang from, but the actors do a superb job in their portrayals.

"For the lack of a nail" . . . "there is a tide" - people get caught up in the morass of life - sometimes they get free of their difficulties, sometimes they do not and it's not necessarily due to lack of effort and/or good intentions - although this story amply illustrates Epictetus's observation of the latter.

There is no sole human villain in this story - more a concatenation of events which people see from a limited perspective. Unfortunately the expansion of vision to include other viewpoints does not come equally to all persons in scope or timing. In a way, the Colonel is right; Americans can often be like little children searching for the next sweet thing to put in their mouths. While this may be more true of some characters than others, it is somewhat oversimplified, as is his assertion that "we are not like that."

How does art "succeed"? Is it the extent to which the viewer is drawn into the work and experiences the realities the artist is trying to describe? Karl Menninger wasn't overtly speaking of art in the following bit of "The Human Mind," but he does touch on empathy.

"When a trout rising to a fly gets hooked and finds himself unable to swim about freely, he begins a fight which results in struggles and splashes and sometimes an escape . . . In the same way the human being struggles . . . with the hooks that catch him. Sometimes he masters his difficulties; sometimes they are too much for him. His struggles are all that the world sees, and it usually misunderstands them. It is hard for a free fish to understand what is happening to a hooked one."

Hard, yes. But most of the cast of this film do an exquisite job in letting us feel the sting of the hooks . . .

It's unlikely you'll ever see a concert film quite like the one shot on 12 June 1993 in Helsinki, Finland with the Leningrad Cowboys and the Alexandrov Red Army Choir and Dancers. 13 songs: "Finlandia" by Sibelius; "Let's Work Together" - with the drummer on a stage designed like a tractor, guitars in the shape of tractors and some air guitar action; "Volga Boatmen"; "Happy Together"; "Delilah"; "Knocking on Heaven's Door" with 6 women dancers in folk costume; "Oh Field" (the incongruity of the solemness of the Red Army Choir coupled with the Leningrad Cowboys lying flat on their backs, hair sticking up vertically a foot or so, and waving the boots with the curly toes back and forth cracked me up); Cossack dancing in "Kalinka"; "Gimme All Your Loving"; numerous dance troupes accompanying "Jewelry Box"; "Sweet Home Alabama"; "Dark Eyes"; and closing with "Those Were The Days" with Kirsi Tykkylainen (who also sings this song in the 1992 short of the same name).

The set designs were quite amusing, different aspects being revealed by lighting chances throughout the performance. The concert was bookended by a scene at the beginning titled "Moscow, May 28, 1993" with one of the Leningrad Cowboys and some functionary signing a document and a bust of Lenin spotlighted at the ending.

If you like Kaurismaki's dry humor, you might go for this sequel. It does have its funny bits . . . but a lot of them might go right over your head. I don't think many people would recognize the voice on the radio as the Leningrad Cowboys (L.C. hereafter) check into the hotel with the portrait of George Washington on the wall (Billy Graham, preaching on Isaiah 51:11) and I'm sure there are other things that I missed. It's basically the funny bits that make the film, I guess - the disjointed, non sequitur nature of the film being part of the joke.

You don't really have to understand *why* there are two sets of L.C. (Mexican & Finnish), or the trip from Mexico to Coney Island, or their old manager Vladimir appearing there (claiming to be some reincarnation of Moses). You just have to go with the flow of the zaniness - which includes Moses stealing the nose of the Statue of Liberty (we see the NY Times headline "Statue Nose Stolen" as it's read by Andre Wilms - the bad guy Shemeikka in the 1999 "Juha" by Kaurismaki) who follows the group and claims to be the prophet Jeremiah (or Elijah or Isaiah - he seems to change his identity along the way, claiming to be a CIA agent at one point).

Other amusing bits include the flight to Europe on a prop plane with Moses on the wing holding the nose of the Statue of Liberty, the L.C. playing one song at a Bingo place in France - getting paid in blank Bingo cards and one of them immediately getting "bingo".

There are a number of biblical allusions: Moses walking on water across a pool; Moses and Jeremiah trading quotes, some real ("never cook a kid in his mother's milk", others faux ("do not eat any disgusting thing"); and Moses getting water from a rock (by drilling it with a jackhammer) are just a few. I'll let you guess how he comes upon the burning bush, where the golden calf comes in, and how they run into Kirsi Tykkylainen singing "By the Rivers of Babylon" - lyrics from Psalm 137. (She also sings "Those Were the Days" in the 1992 short of the same day and in the 1993 "Total Balalaika Show").

Going over it in my mind, I'm finding it funnier than when I first saw it. Maybe I was a little tired then; perhaps conflating the events I found amusing lets me forget the bits that dragged for me.

Supposedly set in "Paris, 1994" (the Eiffel Tower is also seen in the background) a man (with the "reverse ducktail" hairstyle of the Leningrad Cowboys - hair sticking a foot and a half in front of their face - and their two foot boots with the curled toes) and his donkey are refused admission to the bar "La Maison du Vin". The bartender points to a sign picturing a donkey with an "X" through it. The Leningrad Cowboys are playing the song in the bar. A blonde woman sings a verse (this is the actress Kirsi Tykkylainen, who sings the song in the concert film TOTAL BALALAIKA SHOW. She also picks up the escapee at the end of THRU THE WIRE). She has the same "reverse ducktail" hairstyle as the group, as does a dog in the bar - which cracked me up completely! She takes the man's hand at the end of the song and the piece ends with the bar owner petting the donkey. Surreal - and classic Kaurismaki.

One of the more recent short "music video" films by Kaurismaki and the first, I believe, in color (ROCKY VI - 1986; THRU THE WIRE - 1987; THOSE WERE THE DAYS - 1992 were all b&w) THESE BOOTS continues in the same wacky vein. The piece begins with the title "History of Finland 1952-1960" and cuts to a shot of a baby (with a full size male head and the requisite Leningrad Cowboy hairstyle and curled tip boots) and the lyrics "You keep saying you got something for me" start off the song. The parents have the same hairstyle - although the man is balding, so it's his beard that stretches in front of his face for a foot and a half. The child is thrown out of school for drinking vodka. When he gets married he and his bride are riding on a tractor. At the funeral of his parents, their curled boot tips are sticking out of the coffins.

If you're into the Kaurismaki sense of humor, you'll probably find this hilarious. Otherwise you might see it as just strange and dumb.

***SPOILERS*** ***SPOILERS*** To the tunes of a sax solo, the protagonist makes a jailbreak somewhere between Utah and Alabama (being a Finnish film - and by Aki Kaurismaki - this drollery is not unexpected) and we follow him through 4 brief acts titled Freedom, Danger, Punishment, and Finally Together. In "Freedom" he escapes through a hole in the fence and makes it to a hamburger stand and a hotel. In "Danger" he is running away from two men in black coats and ends up in the smoky atmosphere of a bar singing THRU THE WIRE with the Leningrad Cowboys (those of the "reverse ducktail" hairstyle that sticks a foot and a half in front of their faces, and boots with two foot curled toes). "Punishment" finds him shot in the back by the men in black coats who are pursuing him, and in "Finally Together" he is picked up by a blonde in a Chrysler (Kirsi Tykkylainen - who is also in the short "Those Were the Days" and sings this song in the concert film TOTAL BALALAIKA SHOW) and they escape whilst drinking Coke from a plastic bottle.