I'm Blogging Again.....

...but not here. Not anymore.

Check out my new blog CINEMEMORIES.

A new year. A new blog. A fresh start. Hope to see you there.

COMING SOON: "Dancing With the Devil"

"Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon light?"
--BATMAN, 1989


Alfred Hitchcock once said that a story is only as good as its villain and Roger Ebert echoed the sentiment in his review of Star Trek II. While such a notion may be an oversimplification (some stories simply don't have conventional villains), the basic principle is essentially true: namely, that the level of involvement and emotional investment audiences have in any given story is almost directly proportional to the degree of difficulty the main character must endure in said story's central conflict (since all drama is made of conflict). In other words, the higher the stakes, the greater the obstacle, the more satisfied we are when the protagonist eventually overcomes it... or, conversely, the more saddened we are when the protagonist fails or gets defeated.

Consequently, one could just as easily say that a hero is really only as good as his/her villain. The more challenging the opponent a hero faces, the more impressed/relieved we are when that hero eventually triumphs over the adversary. This is why throughout history storytellers have wisely paid particular attention to their villains. Great care has gone into fashioning suitably formidable and sinister antagonists and the result has been some truly great fictional baddies, in literature (Dracula, Simon Legree, Bill Sykes, Professor Moriarty, Inspector Javert, Voldemort, Iago, etc), in cinema (Norman Bates, Hanibal Lecter, Darth Vader, the Wicked Witch of the West, etc) and in all other mediums... including comic books.

In less than a week, the latest big screen incarnation of that renowned comic book hero Batman hits theatres. Chris Nolan's The Dark Knight pits Gotham's guardian angel once again against that dreaded foe known as the Joker (this time payed by the late Heath Ledger) and it is sure to be a monumental battle. Joker's appearance in this new series of Batman films has been highly anticipated since the final scene of 2005's Batman Begins (I recall a very audible reaction from the crowd when Batman turned that playing card over) and I think we all know why. Batman may be known for having an impressive rogue's gallery of memorable villains such as Penguin, Riddler, Two-face and so forth, but most people would agree that the Joker is easily his most threatening, and thus most popular, enemy. Some would even posit that the Joker is the greatest of all comic book villains (beating even Superman's notorious nemesis Lex Luthor). Well, not only do I agree with these opinions, but I'm going to take it a step further. I think the Joker is one of the best villains ever conceived.

Some might disagree with that statement, but I doubt anyone will disagree with the enormous level of fascination that we all seem to have with this character. Everyone--and I mean everyone, even non-comic book fans--knows who the Joker is. In the AFI's list of 100 greatest movie heroes and villains, Jack Nicholson's Joker came in 45th place and in a recent Movifone survey Heath Ledger's Joker came in 5th. There is no denying, I think, that there is just something endlessly engaging and appealing (yet simultaneously chilling and repulsive) about this character.

So, my question is this: Why? Why is the Joker a character that we so love to hate? What is it about him that continues to attract and repel (or otherwise captivate) us so completely? Well, in an attempt to answer these questions, and in celebration of the release of The Dark Knight, I thought I would devote three lengthy posts to this iconic character, examining his origins (both inside the world of Batman and outside of it in our world) in the first part, looking at the different actors who have brought him to life in various audio-visual media in the second part and, finally, ending with an examination of the "essence" of the character itself in an attempt to hopefully ascertain just what it is precisely that makes the Joker so damned special.

So, stay tuned. Or as the Joker himself would say, "Not laughing yet? Just wait 'til I get to the punch line. It'll kill you! HaHaHaHaHaHa!"

"People say that if you don't love America, then get the hell out!"

Well, I love America.

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY, EVERYONE!

DON'T call me "Junior!"

Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there!*


*and welcome back, Indy. We missed ya.

"The name's Jones, Indiana Jones."

The following post is my contribution to the Indiana Jones blog-a-thon over at Cerebrial Mastication. Some of the ideas I posit here were originated in a conversation I was engaged in over at Piper's Lazy Eye Theatre in a post entitled What Say You: Old Heroes.


It is no secret to anyone that Indiana Jones owes a great deal to James Bond.

Outside of the fact that both characters are prime examples of the archetypal male hero (they are both strong, capable and brave individuals who wage war against malevolent forces for the sake of the greater good) it has become a rather well-known footnote in film history that Steven Spielberg's desire to direct a Bond picture (or some form of globe-trotting adventure with a larger-than-life character at the center) helped bring into existence the imaginings of fellow filmmaker George Lucas. Thus, Indiana Jones was more or less "born" via a handshake between the two friends on a beach in Hawaii in 1980 and over the course of the next 30 years the two of them would be responsible for four Indy movies--the most recent of which opens this week--filled with even more associations to Bond. These include, among others, the character's collection of female companions, Harrison Ford's introduction wearing a tuxedo in Temple of Doom and the presence of former Bond girl Allison Doody in Last Crusade. Probably the most blatant homage to the world's most famous secret agent would be the choice to cast the first "official" 007, Sean Connery, to play Indy's father (thus acknowledging Indy as Bond's true "heir").

However, a closer inspection of both characters and their respective franchises reveals that while there are certainly a number of undeniable similarities, there are also many significant differences between them (and not just on the surface). It is those differences which are of particular interest to me right now; the qualities that make Indy and Bond appealing in their own unique ways. Indiana Jones and James Bond may be "cut from the same cloth," but they're not the same article of clothing (just as a Ford Model T and an Aston Martin DB5 may both be cars--with wheels, seats, an engine, etc--but they are certainly not the same car).


One of the things that can help illuminate their individual "identities" is an examination of the genesis of each.

Conceived during the Cold War by author Ian Fleming (who would be 100 years old this month) and captured in a writing style reminiscent of noir, James Bond was first and foremost a literary creation. In a time when people read more than they do today, Bond's introduction to the world came through the medium of the written word. Granted, Bond's main cultural effect--Bond-"mania" if you will--didn't reach its peak until producers Albert R. "Cubby" Broccoli and Harry Saltzman (with the help of the aforementioned Sean Connery) made Bond a "movie star," but to this very day Bond's big-screen adventures are supremely indebted to the printed page. Indeed, Bond's most recent excursion (Casino Royale) is directly based on the first Ian Fleming novel and the current producers (Cubby Broccoli's daughter Barbara and son-in-law Michael G. Wilson) along with actor Daniel Craig, are attempting to bring the character back to his literary roots.

Indiana Jones, on the other hand, might have been inspired by literature (especially the pulp kind) but was never directly adapted from it. In truth, Indy's heritage is almost purely cinematic in nature. A mere cursory look at the admitted sources of inspiration for Indy's first big screen adventure confirm this. Lucas has expressed that his intent was to create a thrilling experience akin to the Saturday matinee serials of the 30's and 40's (where frequent Indy opponent the Nazis were often the villians), Raiders screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan modeled his interpretation of the character after Humphrey Bogart in Treasure of the Sierra Madre and even the affection for James Bond that Spielberg has expressed is directed quite noticably at the films and not the original books. There is simply no getting around the fact that Indiana Jones was specifically created to be a movie hero by men raised on the language of the moving image.

This leads to another major difference between the two characters. Since James Bond's existence pre-dates his big-screen debut, the character is consequently bigger than any one actor. Most folks tend to agree that Sean Connery was, is and always will be the best Bond, but since other actors have portrayed the dashing superspy after him (with varying degress of success) it is not inconceivable for audiences to see someone other than Connery uttering that immortal line: "The name's Bond, James Bond." Like Sherlock Holmes, Zorro, Superman and other heroes with literary origins, there is no one "definitive" James Bond.


With Indiana Jones, though, there were no preconceptions concerning the character prior to the release of Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981. Nobody had even heard of Indiana Jones before his emergence from the shadows in the film's opening scene. Thus, the connection between the character and the actor who brought him to life (Harrison Ford) is inseperable. Harrison Ford is not just the temporary "vessel" of Indiana Jones. He IS Indiana Jones. Period. Nobody else can play that part.*


Because of the character's identification with a particular actor, Indiana Jones can do something else that James Bond can't do: he can age. In the latest Indiana Jones adventure, there are apparently numerous lines of dialogue referencing the fact that Indiana Jones is much older (not to mention how many reviews mention that Ford himself is much older). This allows the filmmakers to explore the themes of the passage of time and how it can make on feel "out of place" in the world. In fact, two other recent entries in ongoing movie franchises to have successfully dealt with this subject (Rocky Balboa and Live Free or Die Hard) also happened to feature heroes who have been indelibly linked with the actor playing them. Just as Harrison Ford IS Indiana Jones, Sylvester Stallone IS Rocky and Bruce Willis IS John McClane. In some ways, Indy may have more in common with these characters than with Bond (although not in the area of popularity or cultural import naturally).

While Indiana Jones grows older, James Bond has remained more or less the same age (late 30's to late 50's) for more than 40 years. Because it's been established that audiences can accept a different face as Bond, the filmmakers are able to re-cast a younger actor in the role every decade or so. Bond's perpetual youth (his "immortality" if you will) almost makes him more of a symbol than a character. The fact that Bond's adventures always exist in the present lends credence to this. A passing reference to Bond as a "relic of the cold war" in Goldeneye is probably the only indication made in the entire series of his antiquity. Bond continues to stay relevant because the purposeness of his existence is not restricted to the Cold War. It might have given birth to him, but it by no means defines him. Bond's adventures continue to be successful and resonate with audiences long after the fall of the Iron Curtain (with him tackling a very contemporary and very real threat in more recent films: namely, terrorism). There has, of course, been one attempt to depict an older Bond on screen (in the "unofficial" Never Say Never Again) with the one actor who could possibly be most identified with Bond (if there were to be one), Sean Connery, but again the success was minimal compared to other Bonds.


There are many other differences between Bond and Indy that I could mention, and I'm sure I'll find even more after seeing Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (a film I've been looking forward to for quite some time). In fact, I already know of one major difference based on a spoiler that I unfortunately stumbled across on the internet (don't worry, I won't reveal it here) concerning the film's ending. Furthermore, the new Bond film Quantum of Solace comes out later this year and will no doubt provide even more fodder for discussion on the similarities/differences between these two iconic heroes. For right now, however, I am content to leave it at these few brief remarks about aspects of each character.

So, I will conclude this piece with a bit of a personal statement: in addition to becoming important characters in the modern cultural concsciousness, both Indiana Jones and James Bond are very important to me. I grew up watching these movies (Spielberg and Lucas, in particular, were essentially the filmmakers of my generation; they helped me fall in love with movies in the first place) and they were seminal in my development not only as a cinephile but as a human being. These two characters happened to be among my all-time favorite fictional heroes (some others being Superman, Batman, Spider-man, the Lone Ranger, Zorro, Robin Hood and Sherlock Holmes). In fact, they still are. As I have gotten older and tried to leave "childish" ways behind, I find that their significance in my life has actually increased rather than decreased. Their strength, intelligence and tenacity are still qualities that I admire and try to emulate, but it is their flaws that resonate with me more than ever. Their weaknesses reflecting their humanness, giving them depth and making them all the more compelling. We need heroes. We've needed them for thousands of years to help inspire us to do good, to try hard, to fight the good fight (even though we can sometimes fail in that endeavor). James Bond and Indiana Jones are just two of the latest creations to embody an idea that goes back as far as Odysseus, Hercules and others.

We need heroes... or at the very least, I need them.



*Incidentally, I do realize that Indiana Jones has also been played by such actors as River Phoenix, Sean Patrick Flannery, George Hall and Corey carrier, but that doesn't affect my point that Harrison Ford is the standard by which any interpretation of the character is measured. It is striking, I think, that none of these other actors play Indiana Jones at the same age that Ford plays him. They're either extremely young or extremely old. It demonstrates, I believe, that the filmmakers realize audiences wouldn't accept another actor as Indy if Ford were able to do it. Also, none of these other actors were widely embraced as "real" incarnations of Indiana Jones. Phoenix would be the only possible exception and he is, significantly, the most like Ford of all of them.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

"I love you, honey."

"I know you think you do, Mother."

Hamlet, Prince of Youtube

This amused me.

Tomorrow is Today!

This is a big week for my sister Debra. Not only did she get married on Sunday, but her third album Tomorrow Another Day officially gets released today. I know it's impossible for me to be objective, but I think this CD features some of Debra's deepest and most mature work in her career as an artist so far. Here is a rather favorable review of it by Northwest Noise.

Anyway, give it a listen and if you like what you hear, feel free to order it either from Debra's website or from CD Baby.

The "Ultimate" Wedding movie

"I used to think a wedding was a simple affair: a boy and girl meet, they fall in love, he buys a ring, she buys a dress, they say 'I do.' I was wrong. That's getting married. A wedding is an entirely different proposition." --Steve Martin, Father of the Bride


Tomorrow afternoon, on the stage of the Majestic Theatre in Corvallis, my baby sister Debra stands up there and gets herself married. She's the first member of my immediate family to undertake this commitment (well, aside from my parents) and I get the honor of running the lights for it. I know that in the past few months my sister has been working very hard organizing this event and a few weeks back she came into the video store to check out the Steve Martin comedy Father of the Bride (the remake of the 1950 film with Spencer Tracy and Liz Taylor). I suspect that Deb did this because she needed to laugh at the sight of someone on screen enduring the horrors that she is currently experiencing in real life.

At any rate, she reminded me of a phenomenon that I've observed in my many years in the video business: namely that Father of the Bride is generally considered to be the "ultimate" wedding movie (or at least ultimate wedding research movie). People only seem to want to check it out when they or someone they know is preparing for a wedding. I jest not. In the fifteen years I've worked at a video store, I have personally seen Father of the Bride go out at least a couple dozen times and whenever a customer brings up the box to the counter to rent it, I always ask the same question: "So, who's getting married?" Everytime--and I mean EVERY time, without fail--they have an answer. "Oh, it's my brother" or "my daughter" or "my cousin" or "my friend."

It's certainly not be the only film to deal with the subject of weddings (just off the top of my head I can come up with Betsy's Wedding, My Best Friend's Wedding, Muriel's Wedding, The Wedding Crashers, The Wedding Date, The Wedding Singer, The Wedding Planner, Runaway Bride, 27 Dresses, etc), but somehow, somewhere along the way, Father of the Bride became the cinematic "authority" on weddings. Does it deserve such a position? Sure. I don't see why not. I mean, I've watched the film numerous times and I still think it's utterly charming. I like the way it finds humor in the process of putting on a wedding (and they go the whole thing too, from beginning to end), highlighting the foibles, the frustrations and, not least of all, the finances of it all, while still maintaining a sweet and sentimental tone. True, some would characterize it as being "saccharine", but Father of the Bride is funny and, at times, poignant without being edgy or cynical and that alone makes it somewhat of a rarity among Hollywood comedies nowadays.

Bunnies! Bunnies Everywhere!

A few of the more famous rabbits to appear on the big screen:

"Falling Hare," 1943

Harvey, 1950

Monty Python and the Holy Grail, 1975

Watership Down, 1978

A Christmas Story, 1983

Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 1988

Donnie Darko, 2001

Wallace & Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit, 2005


HAPPY EASTER, EVERYONE!

Gimme a break. It's not easy being green.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY, EVERYONE!

Incidentally, I realize this image has nothing whatsoever to do with St. Patrick's Day. I just didn't want to be like everyone else and post something about Darby O'Gill and the Little People. Plus, I just saw the trailer to the Hulk sequel and thought it showed promise. I wasn't the biggest fan of Ang Lee's original (although I didn't hate it) but this one certainly looks different and possibly superior. Here's hoping anyway.

They don't make trailers like they used to

A few days ago I posted a short blog about my reaction to the new Indiana Jones teaser trailer. Since then a newer "version" of the trailer has been brought to my attention by Ted Pigeon of Cinematic Art in his piece Indiana Jones and the Trailer of Digital Nostalgia. This version has taken most of the footage from the real trailer and re-edited it in the style of a 1980's trailer. Here is the "old school-style" trailer:



Ted's observations about the difference between these two trailers, and which one is more "effective" in capturing the spirit and aesthetic of the original movies, has gotten me thinking about a few things. First of all, Ted's piece reminded me of another fan-made trailer I once stumbled upon which was produced well before any footage of Indy IV was released. In fact, given that the trailer promotes it as Indiana Jones and the City of Gods, it's clear that it was created before the movie's official title was even revealed. When I first saw this on youtube, I actually thought (for about half of it) that it was the REAL teaser because it's almost exactly how I imagined the teaser would look (shots of a bullwhip, a gun, etc). When I finally saw the official one, I was mainly just pleased that we got to see any new footage at all. Bizarrely, though, this teaser still manages to (for the most part) work for me.



While it eventually becomes obvious that this is a fan-made trailer employing only amatuer footage (those are clearly not Harrison Ford's hands), the mere fact that this so closely resembles a professional-looking trailer could be seen either as a testament to the creativity of these young filmmakers or an indictment of the movie marketing industry as a whole. It's almost as if they're saying: "Hey, we know how you guys get us to WANT to see a movie. We understand the tecchnique for selling a product: the tricks, the 'formula,' etc. So, here's what we realize your teaser trailer is going to look like. We're just gonna do it first." They even predict (with eerie accuracy) the shot of Indy picking up his signature fedora, dusting it off and placing it on his head. Granted, Spielberg's staging includes a more artistic "Michael Curtiz-style" shadow of Indy donning his hat, but the idea behind both is exactly the same and it clearly didn't take a genius to think of it.

Secondly, as someone who has always been interested in movie publicity (particularly posters and trailers), it has long been apparent to me that trailers look, sound and just plain feel different than they used to. I realize, of course, that this is not news to anybody, but Ted's piece made me realize that while the primary intent of trailers is (as it always has been) to promote the films they represent, they really do function differently in our culture than they used to. We, as moviegoers, seem to perceive trailers and their significance quite differently than we did 20 or 30 years ago (let alone 50 or 60 years ago). Ted makes an excellent point about the release of trailers themselves now being "events." In 1989, I heard stories about people buying tickets to whatever movie they heard would feature the Batman trailer beforehand and then walking out before the movie itself had even started (apparently folks did the same thing up until as recently as the Phantom Menace trailer). I happened to catch the Batman trailer on the big screen as well, but in my case it was purely by accident. Thus, I didn't leave the theatre after the trailer finished because it played before a movie that I actually wanted to see (although interestingly, and probably significantly, I don't recall what film that was). Here is the trailer I saw as an adolescent:



I also remember that when I was working at the video store in high school, one of my favorite practices was to stick in a copy of the latest release and see which trailers were at the beginning of the tape. Of course, in the digital age, when trailers are available for free on the internet, such behaviors are unneccessary and unheard of, but they nevertheless clearly demonstrate a shift in the way people approach trailers (particularly trailers for big "event" movies which audiences are so eagerly excited to see). Nowadays the trailers are anticipated with as much fervor as the films themselves. I don't know that anyone could've ever predicted that trailers would, like movies, have actual "release dates." In a documentary on the special edition Batman DVD, excitment that surrounding the film's trailer in 1989 is discussed and Kevin Smith makes an excellent point. He says that it really could've been just a guy walking out and writing Batman on a chalkboard and everybody would've still freaked out. In point of fact, the teaser for the upcoming Dark Knight movie is little more than that.



In a way, films like Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and Dark Knight don't even need trailers. As continuations of incredibly successful movie franchises they more or less of "sell" themselves (anyone who has seen the teaser trailer for J.J. Abrams' reinvention of the Star Trek series knows exactly what I'm talking about). So, one can't help but wonder then how we arrived at this place. How did we get to a point where our teasers are essentially just the title of the film appearing on screen with music behind it? Where we consider ourselves "lucky" if we get to see actual footage from the movie itself? Where hordes of people scrutinize every millisecond of a trailer rather than simply getting a general "impression" of the film it promotes? Where anyone can make a trailer that is just as good (and sometimes even better) than what the professionals are putting out?

I'm not sure, but it's worth thinking about and discussing. I suspect that in the coming days I will continue to pontificate on the ever-changing nature of trailers and share my ramblings here. I may even take the opportunity to mention one or two of my favorite (as well as some of my least favorite) trailers and what makes them so. Through the process, a topic that will no doubt be broached (as it was in the comments section of Ted's post) is whether a trailer can be a work of art or not. This question will, of course, be a divisive one (just as Ebert sparked a huge discussion about video games with his assertion that they're not art) because it inherently leads to the more fundamental question of "What is art?" and we all have different ideas on that. I'm not sure I've satisfactorily answered that question for myself yet, but I will say that I am currently leaning toward the perspective that movie trailers (as well as posters and just about any aspect of movie marketing) are art... or at least, they can be. Granted, perhaps the majority of the time they're not, but just as I think a TV commercial or a music video can be a work of art, so can a movie trailer.

The "Indy IV" teaser trailer is here!

The teaser trailer for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom and the Crystal Skull, the fourth and no doubt final entry in the immensely popular and lucrative Spielberg-Lucas film series, was officially revealed on Valentine's Day. While there are admittedly one or two things about it that rub me the wrong way, my overall reaction was a positive one. To quote Allison Doody from Last Crusade I was "giddy as a schoolboy" watching it.



Even though it's only been a few days since its unveiling, the internet is aleady "abuzz" with talk about it. Bloggers are praising, critiquing and performing in-depth analysis of every second of this teaser. For example, over at his superb film blog Burbanked does a rather extensive evaluation of it, raising points of concern that no doubt hordes of fans and non-fans alike will have. As a fellow appreciator of film publicity, Burbanked not only examines the content of the trailer but the trailer itself. His opinions are perhaps a bit more critical than mine, but they're nontheless fair and lucid. Burbanked's point that he is not yet convinced it's a film that "needed to be made" is, I think, a particularly valid one. The truth is I'm not sure I feel convinced of that yet either, but having seen this trailer now, I do feel something that I haven't felt since word of a fourth Indy film first surfaced: optimistic. I had always known that Spielberg, Lucas and Ford could pull this off (if anybody could), but I wasn't necessarily confident that they would. My confidence, however, is building. Once the actual theatrical trailer is released, hopefully, it will build even more.

You might need a bigger boat, but you're never gonna need a better actor

In his autobiography Born Standing Up Steve Martin shares a lesson he learned about doing comedy; namely, that "it was easy to be great. Every entertainer has a night when everything is clicking. These nights are accidental and statistical: like lucky cards in poker, you can count on them occurring over time. What was hard was to be good, consistently good, night after night, no matter what the circumstances." I think Martin's observation is an astute one with regard not only to onstage performing but with any endeavor and I recall Martin's sentiment mainly because when I heard last night about the death of Roy Scheider I was struck by the fact that although I've never considered him a "great" actor (like, say, Marlon Brando or Daniel Day-Lewis), when I reflected on his body of work, I couldn't come up with a single bad performance.

I don't think I ever fully appreciated Scheider's ability to be, as Martin characterized it, consistently and reliably good. The fact is that he gave 100% to each film, he devoted himself equally to every part he played, whether it be in a masterpiece like Jaws or The French Connection a relatively forgettable family film like Disney's Tiger Town (which was actually the first time I ever saw Scheider in anything).


According to IMDB, Scheider died yesterday University of Arkansas Medical Sciences hospital in Little Rock, Arkansas. Though an official cause of death was not released at press time, a hospital spokeswoman stated that the actor had been treated for multiple myeloma at the hospital's research center for the past two years. Scheider is survived by his three children and his second wife, actress Brenda King. He was 75.

Scheider's film career was incredibly varied. He could play supporting roles in significant movies like Klute, Naked Lunch and Marathon Man or he could play the lead in a lesser-known, but still decent, piece of work like Blue Thunder, 52 Pick-Up or The Seven-Ups. One of his most memorable performances was as the screen incarnation of dancer/choreographer/director Bob Fosse in All That Jazz. The DVD features iterview with Scheider wherein he relates some rather profound stories about his working with the ailing Fosse and his awareness of who he was playing and why it was significant.

But the movie that first seems to pop into most people's minds whenever Scheider's name is mentioned anymore would naturally be Jaws. The character of Martin Brody, one of the first in a long line of Spielbergian "everymen," is a wonderful creation of Scheider's. While Richard Dreyfus has always been my personal favorite character, Brody is clearly unequivovally the film's "audience incarnate." Spielberg invites us all to experience the film's frightening and dramatic events through the eyes of Martin Brody and the humor, fear and just general humanity that Scheider embodies help makes that a plesant experience for the watcher. Finally, of course, the line of dialogue spoken upon Brody's first glimpse of the shark ("You're gonna need a bigger boat.") has become one of the most quoted* lines in movie history (Ted Pigeon beautifully describes Scheider's performance in that scene, as well as in another important scene, over at his blog The Cinematic Art). It is a declaration which has become identified with the reality of being faced with a situation where you feel ill-equipped and unprepared. Apparently, as it is revealed in the Laurent Bouzereau-directed documentary on the Jaws 30th anniversary DVD, the line was improvised by Scheider himself on the day of filming. How's that for being in the moment?

*It is also, alas, one of the most misquoted lines of movie history, ranging all the way from "We're gonna need a bigger boat" to "We gotta get a bigger boat." Scheider himself recalls it incorrectly in an interview for the aforementioned DVD "making of" feature.

So, rest in peace, Roy.


ROY SCHEIDER (1932-2008)

The Latest Movie Quiz

Dennis Cozzalio has done another one of his splendid movie quizzes over at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule. I always enjoy filling these out (and reading how other folks have responded as well). Here are my latest answers.


1) Your favorite opening shot (Here are some ideas to jog your memory, if you need ‘em.)

There are a number of opening shots that I really love, but I don't know that any first image in a movie could ever possibly get much better than the simple, but enormously effective, ultra-slow reverse zoom on Bonasera's face as he relates his tale of woe to The Godfather.

2) Tuesday Weld or Mia Farrow?

Whichever one didn't call Spielberg the "Leni Riefenstahl" of the Olympics.

3) Name a comedy you’re embarrassed to admit made you laugh

I'm not embarassed to admit it, but the Don Knotts/Tim Conway comedy The Private Eyes always makes me laugh even though I often feel like I'm the only one in the world who finds it funny.

Best Movie of 1947

Not sure I'm qualified to pick the "best" movie of '47 but I think one of the most under-appreciated movies of that year is Robert Montgomery's experimental first-person POV adaptation of Chandler's noir classic Lady in the Lake.

5) Burt Reynolds was the Bandit. Jerry Reed was the Snowman. Paul LeMat was Spider. Candy Clark was Electra. What’s your movie handle?

"The Omen"

6) Robert Vaughn or David McCallum?

Bobby, baby!

7) Most exotic/unusual place/location in which you've seen a movie

I used to own a pocket television when I was younger and my introduction to a few movies (including Midnight Run as I recall) came from a black-and-white screen no bigger than a business card as I was tucked away in my bed late at night.

8) Favorite Errol Morris movie

The only one I've seen is The Thin Blue Line.

9) Best Movie of 1967

Well, continuing my theme of "most underappreciated" movie, I tend to feel that the cinematic value of In Cold Blood is somewhat overshadowed by the significance of its source material. Yes, it's a historic book, but (not unlike To Kill a Mockingbird,) it could also very well be a truly great film.

10) Describe a profoundly (or not-so-profoundly) disturbing moment you’ve had courtesy of the movies

Earlier this year I brought home a movie from the video store entitled Film Geek about a lonely, eccentric young man working in an Oregon video store whose whole life basically revolved around movies and who ran a website devoted to that very subject. I have to say that, while being well aware of the many similarities I shared with him, I was disturbed by how utterly pathetic I found the character to be. What disturbed me even more was later when someone whom I had never even met possessed sufficient enough inisight to liken me to this same character. In case you've never experienced it, there's nothing more unsettling than seeing yourself in a movie and not liking what you see.

11) Anne Francis or Julie Newmar?

Julie Newmar because she was in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

12) Describe your favorite one sheet (include a link if possible)

Again, there are so many great ones, but the sheer simplicity and raw emotional power of the Unforgiven teaser poster is hard to surpass.

13) Best Movie of 1987

As before I wouldn't say it's the best movie of that year, but 1987 was the 25th anniversary of the first James Bond film and the producers marked that occasion by releasing a very respectable entry in the series (called The Living Daylights) which featured the debut of a woefully undervalued Timothy Dalton as a tougher, more intense Bond. I remember going to see it opening night on my family's first day of vacation in Seattle and there was literally a line around the block at the theatre. EVERYONE wanted to see the new Bond. It's interesting to me that so many people now are praising Daniel Craig's grittier, edgier interpretation of the Ian Fleming character (and this is not to take away from Craig's performance at all, because I thought it was fabulous), but he's not exactly doing anything new.

14) Favorite movie about obsession

My usual answer would be Vertigo, but I recently re-watched The Prestige and can't help but think that that's also a pretty decent meditation on the destructive nature of obsession.

15) Your ideal Christmas movie triple feature

I'd probably start with two rather unconventional choices like Die Hard and Gremlins and then end with the more seasonally-appropriate and inspiring It's a Wonderful Life (I still tear up when Stewart cries "Please, God. I want to live again.").

16) Montgomery Clift or James Dean?

With all due respect to Dean (who was indeed great in Rebel Without a Cause), I don't know how anyone who has ever seen the performance that Montgomery Clift gave in his one scene in Judgement at Nuremberg could not pick him.

17) Favorite Les Blank Movie

I have yet to see one, but in scanning his list of films on IMDB I see he did a short about Huey Lewis and the News. Gotta go with that one.

18) This past summer food critic Anton Ego made the following statement: “In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize that only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.” Your thoughts?

I remember when I saw Ratatouille in the theatre and I first heard that speech. I thought it was very compelling. I still do.

19) The last movie you watched on DVD? In a theater?

DVD: Blade Runner Final Cut
Theatre: No Country For Old Men


20) Best Movie of 2007

Of the relatively few film's I've seen so far this year, I'm going to have to say No Country for Old Men.

21) Worst Movie of 2007

That would be Transformers.

22) Describe the stages of your cinephilia

(most ages are approximate)

2 - 8: As a young child we had a lot of movies around the house (my father got into the video business in its beginning years) and I spent a lot of time in front of the TV. My parents also took me to see a fair amount of films in the theatre (my earliest memories are of seeing The Muppet Movie and The Empire Strikes Back on the big screen). I wouldn't say that I necessarily loved movies more than any other pursuits/activities. They were simply a part of my everyday life like food, clothes, etc. In other words, they were just... there. The pendulum wasn't even moving. It was resting motionless in the center.

9 - 16: One day my dad brought home a video camera and I realized that I could create products similar to the ones I had grown up watching. Thus, a fascination for the mechanics of movie-making was born and I began to devour as many movies, books about movies and even movies about movies (such as the making of Raiders of the Lost Ark) as I could. I also began collecting soundtracks and learning whole films by heart (including my personal favorite to recite: Back to the Future). My tastes ran exclusively to Hollywood movies (past and present). The pendulum finally swung to one side.

17 - 24: As I was beginning to leave my teen years and enter adulthood, my love of movies slowly shifted to a love of cinema. Works like Schindler's List introduced me to the concept of film as an art and not just as an enertainment. In college my friend Tucker broadened my horizons with silent, foreign and arthouse films and their directors (whose names I had never heard of nor could properly pronounce). I came to the painful realization that I was an "expert" in a subject that I really knew nothing about. While it was humbling it also, unfortunately, led to my becoming a "film snob." The more I learned about Truffaut, Kurosawa, Fellini, Bergman, et al, the more elitist I became. To borrow my friend Tucker's phrase: "If it didn't have subtitles, I wasn't interested." The pendulum swung way back to the other side.

25 - present: Eventually my cinephiliac arrogance tempered itself as I rediscovered my affection for the so-called "simple" pleasures of Hollywood filmmaking and realized that there was just as much artistic value in something made by Bryan Singer as there was by Louis Malle. I've also finally embraced the fact that I will always be learning about film. Indeed, I will be a lifelong student. Thus, the pendulum has found its way back to the middle once again, but unlike my early years it is still in motion and while I don't know where it will take me next I am eager to find out.

23) What is the one film you’ve had more difficulty than any other in convincing people to see or appreciate?

See #3

24) Gene Tierney or Rita Hayworth?

Laura is one of my favorite films.

25) The Japanese word wabi denotes simplicity and quietude, but it can also mean an accidental or happenstance element (or perhaps even a small flaw) which gives elegance and uniqueness to the whole. What film or moment from a film best represents wabi to you?

I miss being able to see both the chain below the bike and the tracks underneath the road signs at the bottom of the screen in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. Those are two genuine mistakes that I think add a lot to the charm and artistry of that film.

26) Favorite Documentary

I think you've asked this question before, Dennis, and my answer's still the same. Clear Cut: the Story of Philomath, Oregon.

27) Favorite opening credit sequence

Once again, there are so many, but I think that the opening credits that Kyle Cooper designed for David Fincher's Se7en are truly extraordinary. I don't know that I've ever seen a main title sequence, for a film released in my lifetime at least, simultaneously prepare an audience so adequately for what they are about to experience, capture the "essence" of a film so succinctly or prove to be so innovative and (as can be seen from the number of imitators that subsequently followed) so influential.

28) Is there a film that has influenced your lifestyle in a significant or notable way? If so, what was it and how did it do so?

Now this I am somewhat embarassed to admit, but I am known by my friends for wearing a lot of black. Not because I like Goth or am a particularly morose individual, but because I think it's a very beautiful and elegant (not to mention easy-to-match) color to wear. However, it wasn't until I saw the Bruce Willis vanity project Hudson Hawk that it really occurred to me how striking all black can look on a person. It may not have turned me into a cat burglar, but when a single film can inform one's fashion sense to such a degree, I think that qualifies as influencing a person's lifestyle.

29) Glenn Ford or Dana Andrews?

See #24

30) Make a single prediction, cynical or hopeful, regarding the upcoming Academy Awards

Not a prediction really, but Oscar night is of my favorite days of the year, so I REALLY hope that it happens.

31) Best Actor of 2007

While I consider Daniel Day-Lewis and Johnny Depp two of our finest living actors (and I've yet to see There Will be Blood and Sweeney Todd), I watched Death Proof not too long ago and I think what Kurt Russell did in that film was beyond excellent.

32) Best Actress of 2007

This is going to sound terrible but I can't think of a performance by an actress that really stood out to me this year.

33) Best Director of 2007

At this point, I'm going to say the Coen brothers

34) Best Screenplay of 2007

I always feel it's unfair to answer this question without actually having read any of the screenplays.

35) Favorite single movie moment of 2007

I don't know if this qualifies or not because it didn't actually occur during a movie (it's a more of a favorite moment inspired by a movie), but it occurred to me about 20 minutes after walking out of the theatre that the first 2/3 of Bourne Ultimatum actually took place in between the penultimate scene and the finale of its predecessor Bourne Supremacy, thus providing more information on the conversation between Matt Damon and Joan Allen, seen in the previous film, and throwing it into a whole new light (an aspect of the film I didn't see anyone mention in any of the reviews). The pleasure of this moment of realization was further elevated by the fact that I sent my observation to David Bordwell--in response to a piece he wrote on the film--and he very kindly mentioned my name on his blog (despite my cautioning him that he might receive some flack for doing so). Anyway, it's probably my favorite "movie moment" of 2007 because it reminded me once again that I still do know a thing or two when comes to movies, something that I had sort of lost sight of during this past year.

36) What’s your wish/hope for the movies in 2008?

Add my voice to the chorus of eager/nervous fans who don't want the fourth Indiana Jones film to totally suck blubber.

The "Kidd" From Brooklyn

Four days ago (just on the cusp of Chrismas Eve), the great Michael Kidd died from cancer in his L.A. home. He was 92.

Kidd was born Milton Greenwald on August 12, 1919 in Brooklyn, New York. Although he studied engineering in school, Kidd soon discovered a passion and talent for dance and would go on to become one of Broadway's greatest choreographers (working on such shows as Finian's Rainbow, Guys and Dolls, Can-Can, Lil' Abner, Destry Rides Again, Brigadoon and The Goodbye Girl) sulminating in five Tony Award wins. Kidd eventually emigrated to Hollywood where he worked both in motion pictures (choreographing films like Where's Charley?, Star!, Hello Dolly! and The Band Wagon) and television (directing episodes of All in the Family and Laverne and Shirley). Though he never won an Academy Award for his spectacular film work (nor, unbeliaveably, was he ever even nominated) Kidd did receive an honorary Oscar in 1996.

However, for most people (including myself), Kidd will always be remembered primarily for his amazing contribution to MGM's 1954 musical (and one of my personal favorite films) Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, a work which may very well feature Kidd at his most creative. The truly interesting thing about this story is how it almost didn't come to be. Initially, Kidd did not want to be involved in the film as he had just come off a Broadway project and wanted a rest. He changed his mind after hearing the splendid score but only agreed to be involved as a general "movement instructor" and not a choreographer as he could never make himself believe that seven strapping "backwoodsy" brothers could possibly dance at the level of a typical movie musical without it looking silly or incredulous. He feared audiences would either laugh at the antics on screen or storm out of the theatre in a huff (a la Singin' in the Rain) or perhaps worse. Director Stanely Donen agreed to include no dancing in the picture, but shortly after Kidd was brought on board, Donen promptly did an about-face saying: "Well, Mike, as long as you're involved in this movie we might as well have some dancing in it." At first Kidd was not pleased at all, but his commitment to the lack of believability in seeing big, strong loggers prance and twirl about like ballet dancers compelled him to come up with a most elegant solution.

His approach was to have the dance numbers centered around typical country activities like chopping wood, raising a barn, etc. Thus, the brothers movement, while still not perhaps technically dancing, are far more consistent with the world that the movie creates and the sequences that Kidd designed were (and still are) enthralling, exciting, funny and, at times, perhaps even a bit suspenseful. Nowhere is this more perfectly represented than in the brilliant six-and-a-half-minute dance sequence that serves more or less as the signature set piece of the whole film. It's a scene that I've watched at least twenty times and I swear I still never get tired of it. Note how the number starts out relatively simple and straightfroward but as it progresses, and the brothers try harder and harder to "one-up" the other suitors and win the affection of the ladies, the level of athleticism required for the feats builds and builds until by the end, in a remarkably adept bit of movement, Frank Pontipee (Tommy Rall) is flipping through the air without the use of his hands. Throughout it all, though, we as an audience accept its "reality" because of the subtle degrees by which it arrived at that point.

So, check it out. It's sheer perfection right down to the little spin and hop into the men's arms that the girls do at the very end.



So, rest in peace, Michael. Thank you for providing the world with some beauty while you were here.


MICHAEL KIDD (1915-2007)

"What's This?"

It's a snowflake, Jack. Welcome to Christmastown.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!

P.S. I promise I will start writing again very soon. In fact, it's my New Year's resolution to "get back on the horse" and become a regular blogger again. Thank you all for your patience.

"You cut the turkey without me?"

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE!"

-Quote provided by Barry Levinson's AVALON (1990)

Faith & Suffering in Shadowlands

"Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief."

Suffering is a part of life. At some point in our time spent on this Earth we are all confronted with this truth. Charles Grodin begins his autobiography It Would Be So Nice If You Weren't Here with the anecdote: "I remember crying once as a little boy (I forgot why) and thinking that if this was the best life had to offer, I wasn't so sure about going on." I mention this passage because it eerily reflects one of my own experiences. I also remember crying once when I was younger (like Chuck, I don't recall the reason or even the exact circumstances) and disliking it to the point that I wasn't so crazy about continuing on with this life if it was going to involve this. It's not that I was contemplating suicide or anything like that. I was just desperately searching for a way to "bargain" with life such that I wouldn't have to endure any more pain.

For some individuals this is where the dealing with the reality of pain begins and ends. My college professor once said that there are two kinds of people in this world: philosophers and drug addicts. The drug addict merely goes through life looking for the next distraction to keep himself occupied. The philosopher actually faces into the tough issues that life has to offer. He asks questions and seeks answers. Even as a youngster (though I was beginning to display "drug addict" tendencies in my desire to sidestep as much pain as possible) I was also already launching my tenure as a lifelong philosopher because in the midst of my tears I was asking a simple but vital question: "Why?"

"Why?" is a very important question. In fact, "Why?" may be the most important question a person can ever ask in his lifetime. The question of "Why?" particularly seems to surface in the face of extreme hardship. As the aforementioned college professor wrote once in a book: "Our questioning is not really from a desire to know the particular meaning of the particular event. More importantly, it is from a desire to be assured that it has any meaning at all." In other words, does my suffering serve some purpose? Is there meaning behind it? Or rather is it pointless and arbitrary? Is it simply another random occurence in a cold, unfeeling and ultimately absurd universe? Well, as a Christian, quite obviously I believe that there is meaning to suffering (and consequently to life) and some of my favorite stories deal with this very theme. That's why, when I heard a while back about RC's Film + Faith Blog-a-thon over at Strange Culture, I knew exactly which film I was going to write about... well, it was this one or The Mission.

Some of my real-life heroes have been extraordinary indviduals who stood up against incredible odds to fight for some form of liberty for themselves and their fellow man (Martin Luther, Abraham Lincoln, Mahatma Gandhi, Oskar Schindler, etc), but some of my other heroes happen to be a more mundane, less "romantic" historical figures. One in particualr holds a special place in my heart. This fellow didn't start any great revolutions. He didn't free or save millions of people. He was just an ordinary guy who dealt with what life threw at him in a very real and very forthright way. It is precisely the "ordinary-ness" of author C.S. Lewis that makes him, in my mind, heroic and noble. Ironically, when it comes to Lewis' writing, I am not necessarily his biggest fan. His fiction (primarily the Chronicles of Narnia series) is pleasant enough but a little too allegorical for my taste (I actually prefer the books of his friend and fellow "Inkling" J.R.R. Tolkien), but I love his more "philosophical" efforts (such as Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, etc). Although I admit I haven't read as much of his work as I would like to, the reason I respect and admire Lewis has less to do with his achievements as a writer and more to do with his experiences as a human being.

Though raised in a religious family, Lewis became an atheist in his teen years. It was actually Tolkien who helped convert him back to theism and Lewis ended up becoming one of the great Christian apologists. Certainly no stranger to suffering (having fought in the trenches of WWI), Lewis wrote some thought-provoking meditations on reconciling the existence of evil and the reality of human suffering with the concept of a righteous, loving and omnipotent God in such works as The Problem of Pain. Lewis' theodicy was well-developed, intelligent and rational.

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

Then something significant happened. Lewis met and fell in love with an American woman named Joy Gresham. Joy moved to England with her two sons (David and Douglas) and she and Lewis were married in 1956 and lived relatively happily together for four years. In 1960, Joy died of Bone cancer and a short time later, in 1963, Lewis himself followed. During the intervening three years, Lewis struggled quite a bit with the loss of Joy. Though it was not Lewis' first occasion doing so (his mother also died of a cancer when Lewis was very young), for some reason Joy's death seems to have affected him deeper than anythings else he had ever endured up to that point. This challenged Lewis' faith to an incredible extent and in his book A Grief Observed, Lewis lays out very honestly and openly not only the bereavement felt over the death of his beloved wife but the anger, the fear and the general questioning felt in the face of a possibility that God is not real or, perhaps worse, that He is not good. The text is such an outpouring of a person's emotions, doubts and vulnerabilities. To read A Grief Observed is to see a man lay his innermost being completely bare, to gain insight into a soul in turmoil.

"No one ever told me grief felt so much like fear."

Interestingly, A Grief Observed was initially published under a pseudonym and never mentioned his wife by name. Thus, a number of Lewis' friends recommended the book to him thinking it might be of some help to him. I find this scenario not only ironic but also extremely revealing because it suggests that Lewis' own friends didn't recognize him in his writing. This indicates to me that his musings in A Grief Observed were unlike any writing he had ever done before. Indeed, I first read it during somewhat of a dark period in my own life and found that it "felt" completely different from, say, Mere Christianity (which I had also recently read at the time). The Lewis who wrote before Joy's death and the Lewis who wrote after it seeemed to me like two completely different men. It's as if the first Lewis had it all figured out and the second Lewis wasn't quite so sure anymore. The Lewis who wrote a A Grief Observed is the Lewis whose perspective on pain was really put to the test, who was given more of an intense taste of the kind of acute, almost crippling, anguish and heartache that life has offer. Thus, he gained a deeper understanding and more profound appreciation of what pain truly is, what it does to us and, of course, whether or not it has purpose.

"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn."

Being that C.S. Lewis is one of my heroes and his story is an extremely moving one to me, it should come as no shock to people that one of my favorite films is Richard Attenborough's Shadowlands as it dramatizes the period in Lewis' life I have described above. Shadowlands actually began as a 1985 BBC-TV movie written by William Nicholson starring Joss Ackland and Claire Bloom (of which I've only seen bits and pieces a long time ago) and was then adapted by Nicholson into a stageplay. It was this stageplay that served as the basis for the 1993 film which features the great Anthony Hopkins as Lewis and Debra Winger as Joy. While I've been told that the earlier version is far more subtle, less "Hollywood" in its style and sensebilities and contains fewer liberties taken with Lewis' story (the two Gresham sons, for example, are combined into one child for the '93 version) it would be a mistake, I think, to dismiss the later version's "gloss" for lack of substance. Certainly the film is handsomely shot and exceptionally well acted but, in fact, there is quite a bit about it that is very "un-Hollywood." First off, while some might find it emotionally manipulative I find it to be very restrained and low-key. Also, while many films are content to simply use tragedy as a means for injecting "drama" into a love story (cancer almost always serves quite effectively in that capacity) without unpacking its deep and lasting effects on real flesh-and-blood human beings, Shadowlands faces directly into the provocoative complexities of dealing with suffering and death... especially in the context of spiritual faith.

Sometimes it seems to me that faith is perceived nowadays as a kind of unflinching optimism; a delusionary reassurance in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, that "all will be well;" it amounts to little more than closing one's eyes, covering one's eyes and singing "LA! LA! LA!" in the face of any and all adversity. In this sense, the idea of faith is almost always associated with blindness or ignorance, a phenomenon with which I must admit I don't necessarily see a lot of virtue. In essence, that kind of faith is really just another way of distracting one's self, another drug for the addict to take to deaden the pain rather than actually deal with it. I'm not so sure that God wants us to be a bunch of "Pollyannas," only seeing good everywhere and not admitting that oftentimes things just plain suck, taking pleasure in our pain as if we were masochists. I think He wants us to look squarely into the darkness that exists and acknowledge it for what it is (this includes seeing the darkness in ourselves as well). A lot of the time this involves anger, sadness and a whole other range of sensations that really don't feel very good. If one can emerge from the other end of this tunnel of misery and still have hope, then I think one can be more assured of his faith.

This is where pain and suffering can serve a purpose. A faith that has actually learned to confront the harsh reality of pain seems to me to be a deeper and stronger faith. It's a faith that, as the book of James says, is "tested by fire." Naturally that doesn't make the testing process itself any easier. Lewis understood that but he didn't really come to grips with it until Joy was taken from him. He did not abandon his faith before his passing, but he did have great difficulty holding onto it. In the end, Lewis' faith was a well-earned one. He held his beliefs not because he simply refused to confront reality, but rather because he confronted reality. He did not have blind faith. On the contrary, he had eyes to see.

Just as I would recommend Lewis' book A Grief Observed to anyone going through a rough period in their life, I feel I can recommend Shadowlands to anyone who has ever asked "Why?" in the midst of a tough time. It may not make anybody's list of great films (although it did make the 100 Most Spiritually Significant Films over at Arts & Faith) but on the subject of faith, I happen to think it is one of the greatest out there. It doesn't provide any huge, enlightening answers, but it does ask some hard questions and poses some thought-provoking ideas. Like C.S. Lewis himself, the film is humble but passionate, warm but melancholy, terribly sad and yet simultaneously full of immense joy. As Jack (Lewis' nickname) and his wife discuss in a scene set in the beauty of a picturesque countryside (but with rain serving as an almost symbolic counterpoint):

JOY: It’s not going to last.
JACK: We don’t need to think of that now. Let’s not spoil the time we have together.
JOY: It doesn’t spoil it. It makes it real.... What I’m trying to say is that the pain then is part of the happiness now.

In closing, I want to briefly mention something that I think is interesting. As it does to all men, death finally came C.S. Lewis on November 22, 1963. If that date looks at all familiar to you it's because it was the same day that JFK was assassinated and from a global socio-political perspective that was naturally the more significant event. Thus, every newspaper the world over splashed across their front pages headlines of Kennedy's untimely demise. So, while everyone was in shock and mourning the passing of one of America's most handsome, most charming, most charismatic and, consequently, most popular presidents ever, an old, but great, man was quietly leaving this planet in a manner very befitting the time that he spent on it.

"You play the hand you're dealt. I think the game's worthwhile.”