Archive for the 'Television' Category
Groundhogs Eve, Anyone?
I first saw Amy Smart in The Butterfly Effect and was blown away by her performance as a young woman traumatized by sexual abuse. I didn’t think Smart got nearly enough attention for that supporting role. So I’ve always been pleased to run across Smart in other offerings–and particularly so when Jenn and I stumbled across The 12 Dates of Christmas on Netflix several years ago. It’s now one of our holiday staples.
Have you ever taken a road trip to someplace like the Grand Canyon, or Disneyland? I’ve done both, and have discovered that the journey there can be just as much fun as the destination itself. Some movies are like that. You know exactly where the plot is going—either because you’ve seen the movie already, or one very much like it—but you don’t mind at all because the getting there is pretty darned pleasant. The Christmas Secret is that kind of movie, particularly when you’re holding a bowl of fresh-popped popcorn. It’s a Hallmark original production in which nothing very surprising happens; but heck, you’ve tuned in to Hallmark Movies and Mysteries, right? You’re there for a reason!
Given that I picked up this review opportunity in a rather eleventh-hour fashion, I did not know was that Thurgood is essentially a filmed take on a tour-de-force one-man stage show written by George Stevens Jr. Rather than a standard biopic, we are here presented with the faux reminiscences of an aged Marshall as he “returns” to alma mater Howard University for a lecture to a “friendly audience.” As Marshall warms up to his topic—his personal involvement in turning the tide against American apartheid—he casts off his cracking voice, shuffling gait, and cane, rejuvenated by Fishburne’s energetic portrayal of a modern man of justifiably mythic proportions.
Never Mind the Title
Apparently, it’s been hard getting the word out about this film, which is, as near as I can tell, a marginally fictionalized account of young Dax Locke’s ill-fated battle with Leukemia. By the time Dax is two years old, x-rays show he’s got a tumor in his brain. Tests quickly diagnose Leukemia, and his parents’ lives are naturally derailed. The made-for-TV movie doesn’t follow Dax, though—it follows Dax’s mom and dad, who must come to grips with the “ultimate bad news” that Matthew West sings about in the title song. Cameron and Neilson are very appealing as the female leads here, and Dax’s story is certainly worth hearing about. But really… this has precious little to do with Christmas. The connection is incidental at best.
A Slice of Two Lives
The notion is that a life examined has far more potential than the usual quiet desperation, and for the last ten years Stevenson has followed a fairly large cadre of kids who are now young adults. Two Brothers is the first feature-length documentary fashioned from the footage gathered over that period. Ten years ago, Sam and Luke Nelson were pretty typical gradeschoolers. Luke was the scrappy little brother, Sam the older—who tended to bully his siblings. Then Stevenson stepped in and started his standard interviewing, plus probing inquiries regarding the relationship between the brothers. And a funny thing started to happen. As Sam and Luke both started seeing the contrast between the way things were and the way they wished things could be, their reality started changing.
Don't Miss It
The beauty with which Landon’s camera captures Hickory Hollow and its people is so loving as to be a very, very weak indictment of Amish faith and values. Sure, Katie may look hip tripping down a city street in designer-store clothes to a pop-rock soundtrack—but does anyone actually think that the city is a more attractive place to live? Landon’s film, at the very least, doesn’t seem to find much beauty there. I’ll go out on a limb here and postulate that the team assembled by the film’s producers yielded a unique chemistry—which in turn sparked a compelling and remarkable film. I wouldn’t say it moved me—but it held me. And you know I’m not exactly the film’s target demographic.
Prime Suspect, which debuted in 1991 starring Helen Mirren as Scotland Yard’s first female Detective Chief Inspector, was groundbreaking in myriad ways. First and foremost, it was a frank and frankly ugly look at the ways that entrenched sexism hindered not only the advancement of women within the ranks of the Yard but how it also hindered the investigations themselves. Suffice to say that there’s a decent mystery here that I won’t say much about, as the rather languid intensity of the program would be spoilt by overanalysis. But there are enough seeming red herrings that, even after the mystery is “solved,” you’ll be wondering if Tennison actually “got her man” when the final credits roll.
In my favorite of this seven-episode bunch, “Whistleblower,” the farmer charges watchdog Bitzer with cleanup of the farm in a form of frustrated (and naturally misguided) delegation. With Bizter cracking the whip (and ditching his whistle in favor of a trumpet), the herd’s usual beach-loungey afternoon turns to mayhem as Shaun and company repair stone fences, paint the house, mow the lawn, and mend the gate. That’s about it. And it’s enough. There’s no deep meaning here, no Aesopian moral, no symbolism rife with import. No, this is just good-naturedness in small doses. Who could ask for more?
Worth Spending Time On
Star Faith Ford, who plays Tyler and Lucy’s mother in NBC’s Field of Vision June 11, said during a screening/chat-session earlier this week that she was drawn to the project because “it had a lot of heart with a message, without being preachy.” That’s true. The story is personal for Ford, too. “I had personal experiences with bulling in elementary school,” she told one chat participant, “because I was a shy, skinny child. … Different children are targets. ‘Small, heavy, skinny, etc.’ all are prime targets for bullying.”
Finding Very Little New
Castro is not exactly a mystery to Americans. Even before the Bay of Pigs incident, or the Cuban Missile Crisis, Castro was already a figure of mythic proportions well-bolstered by all manner of eccentric newsreel footage. So when Stone’s cameramen focus on Castro’s claw-like fingernails, the oddly intermittent soundtrack intrudes with some circus-sideshow riffs, or Castro launches into one of his trademark mild tirades, all Stone manages is to reinforce old clichés. I’d hardly call that a discovery.
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