lines in the sand

Hilarious Hallelujah

Probably the quietest these high school kids have ever been.

Just Got Smart

The local reviewer said to skip Get Smart so we made a point to go.  Good move.  I haven't laughed that much in a long time.

I think the critic wanted something that ridiculed the TV show, which he didn't think much of either.  Those who didn't like the series won't like the movie, since it's more a tribute than a spoof.  Even when it does make fun of the original, it's in the Mel Brooks/Buck Henry spirit ( who both got credits in the film.)

On the big screen we get more James Bondish chases, explosions and high body counts, although some folks seem to think that's a fault, not true to the original.  But the old show was, after all, a send-up of the Bond of movies and was incomplete without the high-budget mayhem.

Of course, if you're new to Smart, you'll miss some of the references.  The Sentinel critic wondered why Bill Murray had a cameo as Agent 13.  (Well, Mr. Moore, Agent 13 and was a running gag throughout the old show and somebody had to do it.) And I loved it when Anne Hathaway's 99 used a Barbara Feldon hairdo as a disguise.

I will admit that the film loses a little steam around the ninety minute mark,  but that doesn't last long once the final chase starts.

I have just one word for Get Smart - It's Terrific! 

Tally's Folly no Mistake

Last night we went to the theater. The play was Tally's Folly, a romantic comedy for two players. I first read the play about 10 years ago and used a monologue from it in an acting class, but had never actually seen it performed. The Mad Cow Theater did a pretty good job with it.

The year is 1944. Sally Tally is a nurse in Lebanon, Missouri, single and approaching middle age (31!) Matt Friedman is an accountant from Springfield, who wants to try and change that single part. The conversation takes place in a run down folly, a Victorian boathouse, sort of a gazebo on the water.

They started out angrier than I remembered from reading the play. It eventually becomes evident that Sally's anger is from fear, fear of having to reveal a secret. But Matt's demons come out too, and when all is exposed... well that would be telling, wouldn't it?

We hadn't been to a Mad Cow production before and came away quite impressed. Jay T. Becker and Erin Beute as Matt and Sally were polished and quite enjoyable despite some accent distractions -- Matt's Jewish/Lithuanian came and went while Sally's Missourian sounded more hillbilly than 'richest family in town' (okay, it was a small town, but still...). One other bothersome thing was that they seemed about the same age, but a significant issue in the story is that he is more than 10 years her senior.

This is a good lead up to Valentine's day.  What's theaterese for chick flick?

Episode Whatever

Fortunately, when I saw Revenge of the Sith this weekend, I had been forwarned about the acting, the writing, the plot, etc., so I wasn't disappointed in any of the those.  I did expect special effects, and I got them...and got them... and got them... ad tedium. 

It's not that the effects weren't good, they were.  But one way to judge them is whether they enhance a story or distract from it and these were distractions.  Given the other elements, though, maybe the distraction was intentional.

The script was pretty well summed up by one line, I believe it was Kenobi's, "I have a bad feeling about this."  Not only did it describe the writing well, it was a perfect example of its level of originality.  It might have worked well if the actors had been able to camp it up a bit, but that didn't seem to be allowed.

The original Star Wars was special for its humor and sense of wonder.  In Revenge, the attempts at humor came across as silly and one only wondered about the size of he CG budget.

It could have been a good, dark, story about  Annakin's transformation into Darth Vader, but that seemed merely incidental to the action, much of which was gratuitous.

For a dark transformation, maybe I'll just have to pin my hopes something else.

Pancakes & Ponce de Leon

My theory about Ponce de Leon and the Fountain of Youth says that when the Spanish explorer discovered and named la Florida on Easter Sunday in 1513, spring break was in full swing at the native village of Daytona.  Seeing that the revelers were mostly under twenty years old and their behavior even more childish, he thought something in the water must be reversing the effects of age. He didn’t realize it was just the coconut shells with little palmetto leaf umbrellas sticking out of them containing a liquid they called dai-quiri and age would return with a vengeance the next morning.

Okay, it’s just a theory, but thanks to his search for the Fountain of Youth, old Ponce got a governorship.  He was the first Florida promoter to use the Fountain story and today a number of places claim to be the site of his spring, including at least two different state parks.  One of them is Deleon Springs State Park, located in the west Volusia town of Deleon Springs.  The town was known as Spring Garden until it changed its name in 1882 to hype a new resort.  Notice a pattern?

The park is worth a visit and in keeping with the youth theme, be sure to bring the kids.  They will love The Old Spanish Sugar Mill Grill & Griddle House where guests cook their own pancakes.

Most Florida parks have some kind of restaurant or canteen, but this may be the only one that has a wait time of an hour or more before seating guests, at least on a sunny Saturday morning.  That isn’t a bad thing, though, since there is plenty to do while waiting.  Within just a few steps is the rejuvenating spring (72º - instantly takes off twenty years), with swimming, sunning, fishing, canoeing, and even spring diving for those with scuba gear. If you are in the water when your party is called, don’t worry: the dress code asks only that you dry off thoroughly before entering.

Inside, there are two rooms packed with as many tables as possible, each seating up to ten and having two griddles built into the top. Bare legs can feel the heat radiating from the underside of the table, but the  wooden tabletop surrounding the cooking surface insures a safe distance and provides a place for the metal lumberjack style plates.  Servers deliver two pitchers to the table, one with a regular white batter (“It’s supposed to have the lumps,” they explain to newbies,) and the other a five grain blend, along with any toppings requested. These can include chocolate chips, pecans, bananas, peanut butter and other goodies.  All that is missing is a teppanyaki chef named Ranger Bob juggling spatulas.

Lacking a chef, the server gives a quick lesson in pancake cookery – spray some oil on the griddle, pour batter on it until it looks like enough, then add your topping.  When it bubbles, flip it and let it finish cooking.  The five grain mix takes a little longer. You are now a chef, please don’t juggle the spatulas.

The pancakes are good, depending, of course, on the chef’s skill, and they don’t really need the add-ins, although the Mrs. enjoyed some very youthful chocolate chips in hers.  The five-grain version had an interesting nutty flavor, but we kept going back to the plain.  It’s all you can eat, so whenever a pitcher comes up empty, another appears from the kitchen.  One minor disappointment: there is honey and maple syrup to drizzle over your cakes, but if you don’t want that Yankee stuff, they only have molasses, no cane syrup.  It’s close, but not the same.

It isn’t all pancakes, though.  In addition, there is a kitchen serving up sides of bacon, sausage, ham and eggs, all tasty enough to complement the tabletop masterpieces. Or if you just want to skip the flapjacks, they can bring you French toast, a sandwich or a salad.

As required at such places, there is a small gift shop where, if “all you can eat” is not enough, you can purchase Old Spanish Sugar Mill Pancake Mix and Florida survival gear like insect repellent, gator tail jerky and datil pepper sauce.

This is a place that every Central Florida resident should experience at least once, but don’t come just to eat.  Bring the kids, make a day of it and get young.

Give Mel Gibson an "A" for effort, but...

Critics have been calling Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ too violent and I’ve looked forward to explaining how they just don’t get it, that crucifixion was violent in ways that Hollywood has never adequately explored. All I needed to do before writing about it was to actually see the film.

Last night I saw it.  The critics are right.

The brutality is beyond gratuitous: worse, it is beyond credibility. Jesus was a man, and it is doubtful any man would survive the scourging as Gibson depicts it. He certainly wouldn’t be able to carry himself to the hill a few hours later.

During that trek, soldiers whipped him for no apparent reason. They were neither angry nor vicious: it just says in the script, “soldiers whip Jesus as he trudges down the street.” If one is recovering the precious “willing suspension of disbelief” at that point, a bit of overly clever business involving a Shroud of Turin knockoff destroys it again.

If the mindless brutishness of the characters isn’t enough, the writers get in some licks with things like having the cross fall on Jesus. It seems less like an accurate picture of the event than “let’s see how many ways we can beat up on him.”

Senseless savagery is not the only problem, though. The characters were cardboard cutouts from all the passion plays ever put on: for most of the movie, wardrobe just handed out two expressions, grim and fearful. Only Pilate consistently had a third dimension, although we do see the depth of Jesus’ internal conflict in the Garden of Gethsemane. Herod appeared courtesy of Andrew Lloyd Weber and I expected him to break into “So, You Are the Christ” and a soft-shoe at any moment.

Language probably contributed to the flatness. Going in, I applauded Gibson for using the tongues of the times and enjoyed trying to see how well I could understand the Romans without looking at subtitles. What I thought was a good idea, though, actually kept me an onlooker when I so wanted to be involved.

Okay, there was some good stuff.

A flashback to Jesus as a carpenter shows us the man clearly, bouncing up and down on a new table to test it, engaging in mother-son repartee when Mary calls him to lunch, happy.

At Gethsemane, just before the arrest, Gibson makes it plain that the familiar words “Take this cup from me” mean that Jesus was actually tempted to not go through with the plan. It was the wilderness all over again and its emphatic resolution was the most forceful point in the movie for me.

Satan himself appears and is wonderfully creepy, his cold, effeminate face wearing a look of malicious concern for Jesus.

Anyone who finds anti-Semitism in the story put it there himself. Yes, a group of Jewish leaders started the ball rolling, but the Romans, for the most part, were only too happy to carry out their wishes, some even having to be restrained in their enthusiasm. There was even a hint that the crowd calling for crucifixion might have been a paid mob, at least they were rounded up by friends of the priests to support their cause.

Mel Gibson deserves credit for making this movie. Those who accuse him of ignoring the resurrection (he doesn’t quite,) the life or the teachings of Jesus, to concentrate on His suffering do get it and just don't like it.  It is about suffering and death, the sacrifice the Lamb of God made for us, a focus that has a tradition stretching from medieval passion plays to Bach and even Weber. I just wish it had worked better, that his idea hadn’t taken control of the film away from him.

Something interesting is happening here. Writing about how this production failed to inspire, I am forced to consider the actual events of two-thousand years ago and find them moving indeed. Maybe that is the whole point.