My wife was sick all day Sunday, so when she rallied enough to want to watch something, last night, I was happy to let her choose the show. She chose the new episode of The Brokenwood Mysteries, made in New Zealand. We’d watched several seasons’ worth, and liked it.
Now it has become a show in which characters actually babble about “diversity” and “inclusion” as real things that are important in their lives. The setting is a small town in which there are no intact families. Not even one. And you can always tell who’s going to turn out to be the murderer, or at least a victim who richly deserved it, because it’ll be a character–usually a “Christian,” whatever they think they mean by that–who stands out because he’s the only one not on full-throttle, cartwheel-turning support for everything sodomy. One individual–naturally, the wisest, wittiest, and most benign human being in Brokenwood–is billed as the town’s “first gay mayor.” As if he were to start a whole dynasty of homosexual mayors. Even the little old lady who takes walks is, like, totally woke.
It’s indescribably dreary. The episode ended with the police counseling the estranged lesbian pair to give it another go because “love wins” or something.
Can’t blame Hollywood for this travesty. This is a New Zealand caper, all the way.
But is this what screenwriters and “entertainment” honchos really, truly, think our lives should be? What could be more depressing than the flat, barren, dead sameness of “diversity”?
But if people really lived like that, it wouldn’t be long before there were no more people.
Well, here we are again, first day of another year. We’ve got rack of lamb for dinner; and, as is our custom, we’ll watch The Time Machine this afternoon, the 1960 movie starring Rod Taylor and Yvette Mimieux.
Don’t get me wrong: the theology of this movie is totally off-base. A 19th-century inventor creates a time machine and travels some 800,000 years into the future. There he finds the human race split into two separate but unequal offshoots. The hideous Morlocks provide the childlike Eloi with everything they need–can you say “Universal Basic Income”?–and then… eat them. Both races have been debased by the evil system they’ve devised. Sound familiar?
The thing that makes this movie work is the fantastic sets, and special effects, by George Pal, altogether believable. You have to take the story with a boxcar-load of grains of salt, but the sets are awesome. I used to dream of finding Morlock-holes in Edgar woods. I’m rather glad I didn’t.
Anyway, this is one of those movies that totally succeeds in providing 90 minutes’ worth of pure escape.
Just don’t take it seriously. The only thing serious about it is its errors. But we’re hip to those, so we enjoy it.
Patty and I got all misty-eyed, as we do every Christmas, watching the Alistair Sim classic, Scrooge (aka A Christmas Carol), this afternoon. What a pair of softies! I mean, what’s the big deal? It’s only redemption!
Here’s young Scrooge at Mr. Fezziwig’s Christmas party, with one of the classic folk dances of England and Scotland–“Sir Roger de Coverley.” Published back in 1695, this dance turns up in several 19th century novels.
Have any of you out there ever danced it?
Anyway, out of all the fine movie versions of A Christmas Carol, this one is our favorite. Hankie, please!
Any time is a good time not to give the following videos as gifts!
Killer Quokkas, starring Chips Rafferty, Michael Caine, and Hedy LaMar. Quokkas are on the rampage, threatening to depopulate Australia. Only Hedy LaMar knows how to summon Godzilla from Monster Island–and she won’t tell, because she’s mad at Michael Caine.
(Byron the Quokka: “I resent this movie!”)
Only Slightly Better than Garbage: Join Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, washed-up football flop Colin Whatsisname, and the entire cast of The View in listing all the ways America sucks, all the ways Venezuela is better, and all their excuses for not going to live in Venezuela and bother us no more.
Eat Like a Cat! Cult documentary filmmaker Dolph Magnoon teaches you how to save money on your groceries by eating cat food in very small quantities and being hungry all the time. Special guest star: dietary expert Chelsea Clinton.
My Shameful Secret, a Swedish movie made by carpenter ants, stars a Howard Cosell look-alike whose speech is so garbled that even dubbing and subtitles can’t make him understood. To protect his life and property, his name has been removed from the credits. As to what the shameful secret is–well, we never find out, do we? You will be so sorry you paid $2.98 for this video disc!
The dramatis personae of Godzilla vs. Megalon take a curtain call. Left to Right, Jet Jaguar, Godzilla, Gigan, and Megalon. Absent: Dame Judith Anderson.
This is the day Patty and I have our turkey, relax, and watch Godzilla vs. Megalon. This treasure of cinematic art is completely devoid of serious thought, ideal for flushing the brain. The brain is like an outboard motor; it needs to be flushed from time to time.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Someone stole my outboard motor, once.
There is a good reason why this film has been called “The Gone With the Wind of movies featuring rubber monster suits,” but I can’t remember what that reason is.
Time out! You’ve got to see this movie, Stars in My Crown–one of the best I’ve ever seen (and I watch a lot of movies).
Don’t think of it as a Western, even if it’s set in a small town somewhere Out West, some time after the Civil War. It could be anywhere, and just about any time. It has a flavor of Ray Bradbury, Mark Twain. And the Bible. Very much the flavor of the Bible.
Joel McRea plays the town’s parson, a man of strong but quiet faith dealing with the problems and the trials of the townspeople, in the church and everywhere outside. Small problems–and big ones, including a typhoid outbreak and an ugly racial incident.
Much of the soundtrack is classic hymns, sung by the parson’s congregation. Am I getting old? These moved me very close to tears. And they were altogether necessary to help carry the story’s message. I’m saving the title hymn for tomorrow’s first post.
This is a slice of life, a depiction of Christianity at work in the real world of saints and sinners, with most of the people in it a little bit of both.
We rented it on amazon, but I also found it later on Youtube.