luerwulf

I watched this purported documentary mainly because it was being shown on Natasha Del Toro's America Reframed, a show which usually showcases worthwhile material. What kept me watching after the first five minutes of this woman's unforgivable, self-pitying, navel gazing was the hope of seeing Natasha Del Toro prick and drain the blister of stupidity that was this film.

Then I realized a few points that would have been glaring, flashing, red lights long before this piece of dead-air uselessness was ever compiled.

I realized that, if anyone had bothered to ask themselves the question "Would I, given an opportunity to decide whether I might want this woman to be, or have been, my mother, have opted instead for being aborted?" It's a germane question because, if you were genetically predisposed to be stable and sensible and perhaps even happy, this mother would screw you up before you had a chance to vocalize about it. If, on the other hand, you were genetically predisposed to be unstable, lacking good sense and miserable, she might foster a serial killer of whiny women.

Jennifer Fox makes it amply clear that she thinks she's the center of the universe and that everyone else should think so too. It's nice that, when no one else actually thinks that about her, she can simply concoct a never ending soap opera starring herself and hawk it to undiscerning PBS stations as a 'documentary' of her bourgeois woes, hangnails, and indecision.

The fact that Jennifer Fox is a perfectly humorless whiner may explain how it is that no man, or woman, can tolerate being around her long enough to give a rat's ass about her angst. Can you imagine what torture it would be to be waiting on her table at lunch - or to find out you're sharing the cabin of an airliner with her? Would you, absent a threat of great bodily harm, invite her to your house for dinner? This woman is simply boring and boorish in the extreme and that's what she invariably brings to the party. She's also the only person to whom this fact seems to be a mystery.

The saving grace in this vagina travelogue might be that the 'I'm a miserable person. Please take pity on me so I can film another relationship disaster, with you having fallen sucker for my act' look seems to have been permanently frozen on Fox's face. It just looks fake - especially in that scene in which her facial expression reflexively snaps to almost normal at the instant in which the ringing of the telephone interrupts Fox's bad acting.

Then again, now that I think about it, this 'project' is most likely a scam, a fraud from beginning to end, a perfectly concocted ruse to see just how gullible the film industry and its patsies could be. The obvious thing that screams fake is that no one could have these sorts of events occur without a carefully written sardonic plot. So maybe it's worth watching for the humor.

Oh my god! Is it possible that this entire series is one huge hoax and that no one wants to admit that they fell for it hook, line, and sinker? Now THAT would be funny. I await the news.

This show would have the potential to be marginally interesting if Burt Wolf could only focus on something other than plugging the local church(es) then plugging the local alcoholic beverages followed by plugs for his other favorite businesses. Then again, making infomercials is what he's good at.

Almost every show starts with some exposition of a local church. It then proceeds to some establishment which serves alcoholic beverages and maybe some sort of food or snacks. Invariably this is followed by a visit to some business to elaborate on its 'glorious' provenance - or - by a stint on one or another group-touring firm's services or hotels, the favorites seeming to be among the river tour operators.

Earth Songs (2012) - (Narrated By Michael York - Actor), (Directed by Brian Luke Seaward - Expert in stress management, mind-body-spirit healing) is the most succinct argument against doing what may have been intended to be an inspirational voice-over in an otherwise visually breathtaking production I've seen recently. I'm writing this as I'm almost done watching the program on 'mute'. I frankly couldn't take it. For about two minutes at the beginning, I was hoping the pap-y-talk would change to something informative or smarm-free. It didn't.

Here's proof that a fairly accomplished actor with a British inflection can't actually keep up with stunning cinematography when trying too hard to say grammatically correct but meaningless, flowery verbiage. The attempt to sound poetic is pathetic. This production is the 'nature' equivalent of the Roman Polansky film Tess (1979) - Gorgeously shot, lifeless, bland, and numbingly tedious. You find yourself wishing something would happen in the narration. It doesn't, and Michael York drones on relentlessly.

If you're considering watching this production, let alone buying it, I'd recommend you find something interesting to watch instead. That way you won't miss the good parts due to verbal anesthesia.