Kelly's Heroes

To round out our Memorial Day festivities, let's take a look at Kelly's Heroes (1970). Clint Eastwood and Where Eagles Dare director Brian G. Hutton make World War II into a full-blown comedy caper. The result is an entertaining mess.

Late in World War II, American Private Kelly (Clint Eastwood) hears about a cache of Nazi gold hidden somewhere in occupied France. He enlists the reluctant help of his platoon leader, Sgt. Joe (Telly Savalas), and spaced-out tank man Oddball (Donald Sutherland), recruiting a private army to retrieve the gold. The whole operation builds to ridiculous proportions, with General Colt (Carroll O'Connor) ordering an all-out assault on Nazi positions.

By 1970, commando films were all the rage. Audiences ate film after film up, perhaps in response to Vietnam: simple adventures set during the "Good War" against Nazism were an antidote to the grim, morally ambiguous stalemate in Southeast Asia. No matter how ridiculous or implausible the films got, and whatever the attempts to add anti-war musings into the mix (The Dirty Dozen), audiences loved seeing superhuman heroes slaughter truckloads of Nazis without consequence.

Kelly's Heroes arrives at the genre's logical conclusion, treating WWII as a joke. Oddball's tank crew slaughters a company of Nazis to a Hank Williams Jr. tune; Oddball himself is a very-1970 hippie bitching about "negative waves" and stopping to sample wine in the midst of a firefight; the General listens to radio traffic like a deranged football fan. Even Clint gets in on the act: the film climaxes with a faux-Western standoff with a Tiger Tank. The jokes come hard and fast: not all of them work, and few of them are in good taste, but it's all undeniably fun.

At 145 minutes, Kelly's Heroes drags in patches, particularly in the early going. But once things get on the road, it mostly flies, mixing action and humor with the daffy plot. Screenwriter Troy Kennedy Martin builds things to ludicrous proportions, until Kelly's heist sets off an entire offensive. The action is well-staged if cartoonish: Hutton must break some sort of record for sheer number of explosions in a film. The last scene is sloppily executed, going for obvious snark, but it's perfectly in-line with everything else.

Clint Eastwood is his usual laconic self, laying back and taking everything in stride. Dirty Dozen stars Donald Sutherland and Telly Savalas do most of the heavy-lifting: Savalas carries the straight scenes, while Sutherland's spaced-out hippie gets the big laughs. Carroll O'Connor (soon of All in the Family) gets some of the film's best scenes. Don Rickles, Gavin McLeod, Len Lesser and Harry Dean Stanton can be seen among the supporting cast.

Kelly's Heroes is not among the all-time great war films. But it definitely isn't trying to be. It's frivolous fun without the faux-serious airs of many contemporaries, and it can't really be faulted for that.

Battleground

William A. Wellman delivers a powerful film in Battleground (1949), one of the best war movies ever. Though its "grunt's-eye view" of the Battle of the Bulge isn't particularly novel, its excellent script and cast, and its feeling of stark, desolate reality, make it a standout in its genre.

Soldiers in the 101st Airborne Division, encamped on the Belgian frontier, are flush with victory and expecting a fun Christmas in Paris. Unfortunately, Germany launches their Ardennes Offensive, and the 101st is ordered to occupy the key town of Bastogne, putting them in the thick of the fighting.

People who think that "realistic" war films originated with Platoon or Saving Private Ryan need to see Battleground, which obtains gritty believability without the faux-"realism" provided by the gory violence and goddamned shaky cam of modern films. I don't deign to judge a war film as realistic, but this movie seems a lot more real than most of its counterparts. Its GIs are simple grunts on the front line struggling to stay alive: one character, reading Stars and Stripes, acidly notes that the folks back home have a better picture of what's going on than them. The only speechifying is a short but powerful sermon by an Army chaplain (Leon Ames), bluntly explaining why victory over Nazism is imperative. On the front lines, ideology is secondary to survival.

The movie scores through a series of grim, telling details: Private Roderigues (Ricardo Montalban) is left behind and trapped under his own army's artillery; various characters marching with feet bound in rags; a soldier killed trying to gain a dead colleague's boots. Soldiers are economically established, obtaining a chummy rapport that turns into grim professionalism under fire. Battle scenes are frenetic, confused fire-fights in the forest, between men who can hardly see each other. The elements - in this case, a massive snow storm - are just dangerous as the Nazis, even those who disguise themselves as GIs. Acts of "movie" heroism are limited: one character makes a disastrous mistake and doesn't get to rectify it. The best scene involves Holley (Van Johnson) fleeing in the middle of a firefight, only to be shamed into heroism by an unknowing Private.

Wellman's direction is modest but effective. That the movie was shot on studio backlots actually enhances the drama; combined with the stark black-and-white photography and snow-bound art direction, the movie has a unique feel of claustrophobia and desolation. The largely unseen enemy, the vast expanse of the snowy Ardennes, and the mixture of monotony and terror are all potently real. A few expert montages - namely of the 101st putting freshly-dropped supplies to use - help move things along without overuse. Lennie Hayton's minimalist music score is equally effective.

Van Johnson (The Caine Mutiny) convincingly puts aside his pretty boy persona, playing a grouchy loafer who becomes a reluctant hero. The rest of the cast is equally fine. Actors like James Whitmore (Them!), James Arness (Hondo), Leon Ames (They Were Expendable), Ricardo Montalban (Cheyenne Autumn) and Richard Jaeckal (3:10 to Yuma) were often badly-used, but they all shine here.

Battleground is probably as great a tribute to the American fighting man, and as believable a depiction of World War II, as Hollywood has ever produced. All that, and it's damned entertaining to boot.

Memorial Day and Review Index!

First off, Happy Memorial Day! I hope all of my American readers are honoring our veterans and fallen heroes today.

Secondly, today is Clint Eastwood's eightieth birthday! Tune into TCM for a marathon of his films.

Thirdly, last night I created an alphabetical listing of all of my reviews to date, which can be accessed here (or on the right side of the page). I thought it would be nice to have such a list for easy user access.

Hopefully I will finish my Battleground review later today, in between homework assignments. It's been a long weekend only in number of days.

RIP Dennis Hopper

"Pop quiz, hotshot. There's a bomb on a bus. Once the bus goes 50 miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If it drops below 50, it blows up. What do you do? What do you do?"

RIP Mr. Hopper.

The Best Years of Our Lives

Rare is the movie that gets everything right, and when you find it, you can't praise it enough. The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) is one such film. What ought to be a gloppy, sentimental melodrama is truly remarkable, poignant and touching, and certainly among the best American films ever.

At the end of World War II, three American servicemen - Army Sergeant Al Stephenson (Fredric March), Air Force Captain Fred Derry (Dana Andrews) and double-amputee sailor Homer Parish (Harold Russell) - find themselves on a home-bound plane. They learn that they're all from the idyllic small town of Boone City, and strike up an instant rapport. However, integrating back into civilian life proves problematic. Al, a bank executive, hits the bottle hard and butts heads with his boss (Ray Collins); Fred has nightmares about his experiences, struggles to hold down a job and runs into trouble with his spend-a-holic wife Marie (Virginia Mayo); Homer grows estranged from sweetheart Wilma (Cathy O'Donnell), thinking she won't love him now that he has hooks for hands. Things become more complicated still when Al's daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright) falls in love with Fred.

The Best Years of Our Lives succeeds on every level. With the great William Wyler at the helm, and a vast array of talent in front and behind the camera, the movie is a treat to watch. The movie runs close to three hours but doesn't feel like it, its complicated character arcs perfectly intersecting. It's emotional but never maudlin, earning its sentiment with Robert E. Sherwood's excellent script and well-rounded, believable characters. The drama is in deadly earnest, perfectly reflecting the uneasy post-war period, where victory over Fascism led to a downturn in jobs, millions of displaced servicemen, moral ambiguity and fear of nuclear Armageddon.

Our protagonists try to rejoin society with varying success: jobs aren't there any more, scars of war still haven't healed, and their emotional grounding is out of whack. Al runs into trouble for giving a loan to a down-on-his-luck serviceman; Steve's wife Marie is disappointed to find him an unskilled soda jerk out of uniform; Homer can't stand his friends and family pitying him. Nor is everyone thrilled about their homecoming: department-store manager Norman Phillips Jr. resents that Steve take his job, while a Red-baiter badgers Homer, telling him he lost his arms for nothing. There is a wonderfully happy ending, but the road getting there is difficult and often grim. And even then, Steve's final line indicates that the problems might just be starting.

William Wyler was one of the all-time greats, with a truly daunting CV: Jezebel, Wuthering Heights, Mrs. Miniver, Roman Holiday, The Big Country, Ben-Hur, The Children's Hour. Wyler does an excellent job turning the material into something grand and poignant, with simple but effective direction. Cinematographer Gregg Toland makes remarkable use of deep-focus rivalling his work on Citizen Kane - the bar scene, where Fred makes a phone call in the background of an action shot, is truly remarkable. Perry Ferguson and George Jenkins's art direction is equally remarkable, using space (the huge supermarket, Fred's cramped apartment, the "boneyard" of moth-balled bombers) to emphasize our protagonists' unease. Hugo Friedhoffer contributes a beautiful score that tugs at the heart strings without being intrusive.

Fredric March (Inherit the Wind) convincingly makes Al both a solid father figure and a troubled veteran. Myrna Loy (Manhattan Melodrama) is excellent as his wife, and Teresa Wright (Shadow of a Doubt) is luminous and endearing. Harold Russell won two well-deserved Oscars; his plight is truly heart-breaking, with a tremendously moving big scene with Cathy O'Donnell (The Man From Laramie), showing her what marrying him will entail. Dana Andrews (The Ox-Bow Incident) has the most complex character and pulls it off well; Virginia Mayo (White Heat) makes Marie hateful but somehow sympathetic.

The Best Years of Our Lives is one of the best films ever made. Virtually flawless, it is no less powerful or heartfelt sixty-four years after its release, the mark of a truly great film.

To Be Human is to Accept Our Weakness

The assisted suicide and euthanasia debate in this country is bound to become more of a hot topic in the future. It is not surprising. In a post-Christian society, how are people to cope with sickness, illness and dependence on the care of others, nevermind the prospect of Death?

Without Our Lord Jesus Christ, I don't think we will cope. We in the West appear to have an existential crisis. We cope with life in our strength, but cannot bear to imagine utter dependence on others. I know a few people who basically say that when they believe that they will need care, nursing in their old age and need someone to help them go to the toilet and shower them and the rest, that they'd quite like to have the option of a ticket out of this life. "There is no dignity in that", they hold.

It's understandable. Our society now values people more on what they do that who they are. It has become a vainglorious society, one that values only success, strength and wealth. Yet, if we ever go down that road of ending our own lives with the help of others, we will lose a lot more than the elderly, sick and terminally ill who take up that option, if, God forbid, it should ever come to pass. We will all, the sick as well as the healthy, lose sight of our humanity because the truth of the matter is that our humanity begain in the womb, when we were utterly dependent.

Society doesn't value the elderly very much because some of the elderly are dependent on us. The sick and elderly need our care and our help. Because of their frailty they are unable to do very much. Some need nurses, care workers or volunteers to help clean them up and maintain their dignity, wash them, shave them, comb their hair, give them a glass of water. We look forward to our own possible state of dependence in the future with horror, yet why should we be ashamed?

In the womb, were we not totally dependent on our mothers for sustenance? In our first years, were we not totally dependent on our parents for food, water, nourishment, care, washing, going to the toilet. Some of the elderly wear incontinence pads, just as, when we were babies, we wore nappies. We are frightened of such a prospect, yet are we more in God's Eyes now than we were when we were babies? Does God love us because we are more learned and educated now than when we were babies or in the womb, or are more conscious of our condition? Does God respect us more now that we are independent, or behave as if we were and think that we are? Does God love us only in our strength and our youth?

No. We are in God's Eyes now what we were in God's Eyes when we were, I dare say, just one minute after conception, His children, or 5 months in the womb, or just as we were born, or just as we were Baptised, or in our formative years, teenage years, adulthood and 'prime'. We may feel ashamed of our dependence on others when we get old, but God is not, even less so, given that He became a Baby and became dependent on His Creation, humans, Himself and so knows our frail condition.

What we do for the elderly and sick, we do for Christ Himself for He is close to them and defends them. Woe to us if we should lay a finger on them or try to coerce them ever to consider ending their own lives. Woe to us if we neglect them, or ignore them and leave them as orphans, forgotten with nobody to tend to them and minister to their needs with love, since it will not be just their humanity we are neglecting or despising, but our own.

The suffering, the poor, the sick, the elderly, the dying, we wonder why God permits it all, the sadness, pain and sorrows of the human condition. Yet, all are great gifts from God. When we give love, care and compassion to these, 'the least' of Christ's brothers, we receive back tenfold what we have given. Not only do works of mercy, even small works of mercy, benefit our souls, but our outlook changes. When we tend to the sick, elderly and dying we see our end, how, short of a sudden death, we shall be. It is salutary and humbling and takes away the pride and vainglory of this earthly life. In a society driven often by fantasy, dreams and illusions, the elderly, sick, dependent and the hospitalised give the young, healthy and far less dependent some real perspective on our humanity. We may like to think we are strong, but our strength is fading and passing.

St Paul said that the among faith and hope, the only thing that truly abides, truly lasts forever, is love. If we should ever go down that road of euthanasia and assisted suicide, then not only will there be a great and unholy, premature loss of life of the vulnerable at the hands of the untrustworthy and wicked, but we who are at the moment healthy shall be deprived of the gifts of God, for all people, whatever their state, are a gift from God. We shall be depriving ourselves the opportunity to love, to care, to show compassion, tenderness and mercy to the afflicted and suffering. Suffering is redemptive, not just to and for those who suffer, but to those who alleviate their pain or show them mercy and love. Like all of humanity shares in the merits of Christ's Agony, Passion and Death, so we who are healthy share in the merits of the sufferings of the sick, elderly and dying. Without us, they are lost and without them, we, too, are lost.

The Duke at War: They Were Expendable and Sands of Iwo Jima

Continuing our salute to John Wayne, here are dual reviews of the World War II dramas They Were Expendable (1945) and Sands of Iwo Jima (1949). Despite not serving in the war himself, Wayne perfectly embodies the American fighting man in these two movies.

They Were Expendable (1945, John Ford)



Made in the waning days of WWII, They Were Expendable is a grim war film shorn of most genre cliches. Along with Battleground (1949), it's one of the most gritty and down-to-Earth war films ever made, shorn of preaching for or against war, implausible battlefield heroics or grating faux-"realism." Mostly, it's a simple tale of doomed men, soldiering on because it's their job.

Lt. John Brinkley (Robert Montgomery) is the commander of a naval squadron stationed on the Philippines just before the outbreak of World War II. With his squadron of PT boats, his men harrass the Japanese Navy, inflicting grevious casualties on the invaders. His second-in-command, Lt. "Rusty" Ryan (John Wayne), is wounded in action, and romances a pretty nurse (Donna Reed) while recovering. Though Brinkley and Ryan clash, they depend on each other to stay alive as a Japanese victory becomes inevitable.

They Were Expendable is a far cry from your typical John Ford movie. Gone is the bumptious, broad humor of Stagecoach and Fort Apache; instead, we're given a group of grim sailors, likeable enough but weighed down with dread and uncertainty, fighting a battle they can't win. Cliches are left by the wayside for a refreshing (if ultimately depressing) flick. Ryan's romance with sweet nurse Sandy is tastefully handled, a brief, doomed flirtation rather than an epochal romance. The ending is vaguely uplifting, but ultimately downbeat; the Philippines are lost, and most of Brinkley and Ryan's men are left behind. That General MacArthur would later "return" seems almost a moot point, a surprising attitude for a film made during the war to take.

Ford, co-star Robert Montgomery and screenwriter Frank "Spig" Wead all served in WWII, and the movie certainly benefits from their collective experience. It's filled with the requisite battles and heroics, but the quiet moments register strongest: an underage recruit toasting with a glass of milk; a Japanese singer performing My Country 'Tis of Thee as war breaks out; Ryan's touching eulogy to a dead colleague; an old man (Russell Simpson) refusing to abandon his house, waiting for the Japanese with a rifle and whiskey bottle. The movie's simple appreciation for our fighting men and women, shorn of flag-waving jingoism and melodrama, is refreshing.

If there's any criticism to be had, it's that Expendable runs a bit long in the tooth at 135 minutes, with an episodic, scattershot narrative that doesn't fully justify the length. The movie doesn't pick up the narrative drive it ought to, even though it convincingly depicts the desperation of our heroes' plight. Characterization is pretty thin, with a few exceptions; unlike the best unit pictures, few of Brinkley's squad register strongly. It's not the most sophisticated film, but it gets enough right for these to be minor flaws.

Ford's direction is impressive. Not as stylish as most of his films, it's still wonderfully expressive, with striking black-and-white photography enhancing the grim mood. The big action scenes are suitably exciting without seeming implausible, the best being a suicidal attack on a Japanese cruiser. The only incongruous note is Herbert Stohart's score, a bombastic blend of military marches that doesn't quite fit with the dreary atmosphere.

Robert Montgomery is the nominal star, but he comes off rather stiff and one-note. John Wayne, on the other hand, is excellent. He makes Ryan believably bitter, stuck in an impossible situation with a commander he doesn't like. A radiant Donna Reed would parlay her ten minutes of screen time here into stardom with It's a Wonderful Life. The supporting cast is riddled with Ford regulars, including Ward Bond, Russell Simpson and the ubiquitous Jack Pennick, all in fine form. Cameron Mitchell also turns up in a small part.

Sands of Iwo Jima (1949, Allan Dwan)



When I talk about war movie cliches, well, this is what I'm referring to. Sands of Iwo Jima is an extremely conventional, albeit well-made flag-waver: a treat for genre fans and Duke lovers, potentially a chore for others.

A squad of freshly-recruited Marines is sent to New Zealand to train for combat. They're led by the tough Sergeant John Stryker (John Wayne), who does his best to whip them into shape while hiding his inner demons. Private First Class Conway (John Agar), the son. The Marines undergo their baptism-of-fire at Tarawa, where carelessness by Pfc. Thomas (Forrest Tucker) gets two of his buddies killed. The squad regroups for the final assault on Iwo Jima, where Stryker's men prove themselves to be the best damn Marines in the world.

Sands of Iwo Jima follows the cliches of war movies in general, and the "unit picture" in particular, to the T. You've got a gaggle of colorful, diverse characters with broad, simple character traits - the guy who hates the Sergeant, the guy who screwed up and wants to redeem himself, the ethnics (Greek and Jewish here), and the twin brothers constantly slugging each other. You've got the firm-but-fair Sergeant whipping them into shape, turning them into the Swellest Squad in the Service. You've got nasty Japs stabbing our noble heroes in the back. You've even got the soldier showing off a picture of his kid in a foxhole. Throw 'em all together, add the ultimate in flag-waving (raising the Stars and Stripes on Mount Suribachi) and you've got a generic, assembly-line war movie.

To be fair, I'm probably being too harsh. There's something to be said for cliches: they are familar, and they can make an audience fell good. I don't care for mawkish, improbable scenes like Marines reading a Stryker letter in the middle of a battle, but I can enjoy an old-fashioned battle scene or male bonding as much as anyone. The final "you're not so bad" scene between Stryker and Conway is both corny and endearing, not a bad mix. At the very least, Sands is better than the dreary, dull Flags of Our Fathers, proving that more "realistic" war films aren't always better than straight fiction.

Sands of Iwo Jima works best on its own straightforward terms. Despite its cliched characters and plot structure, it's entertaining enough as a flag-waving war film, and provides the expected thrills. The battle scenes are exciting and often impressive, though both battles awkwardly insert archival footage at key moments. The Tarawa scene is suitably grim for that disastrous battle, but Iwo Jima is a glorious victory, albeit at a cost. And broadly drawn though they are, we do care about our goofy Marines as they get knocked off - the purpose of a unit picture. It delivers what it promises, and that's all it really needs.

Wayne got his first Oscar nomination for this film. His Stryker is a fairly one-dimensional Sergeant for most of the film, firm but fair, tough but caring. It's a role the Duke was born to play, and he does a fine job with it, so why complain? And to be fair, he does get a few meaty scenes: his agony at watching a comrade die a slow, painful death, and his tender meeting with a prostitute (played wonderfully by Julie Bishop) in Honolulu. The supporting cast is mostly bland, but it's the Duke's film and he carries it wonderfully.

Hondo

In celebration of the Duke's Birthday, I will review Hondo (1953). Entertaining if flawed, it's not one of Wayne's better films, but it does perfectly embody what Duke fans love about him.

Indian scout/gunfighter Hondo Lane (John Wayne) and his dog Sam turn up at the homestead of widow Angie Lowe (Geraldine Page), and the two strike up a flirtation. Apache war chief Vittorio (Michael Pate) is on the warpath, but he spares Angie, adopting her son Johnny (Lee Aaker) as an honorary Apache. Things grow more complicated when Hondo unknowingly kills Angie's husband (Leo Gordon). The two fake a marriage when Vittorio tries to marry Angie to one of his braves, with Hondo agonizing over how to break the news to her and Johnny.

For better and worse, Hondo is as typically "John Wayne" as a John Wayne Western can get. The Duke, of course, is the primary reason to see the film, and Hondo is a fitting summation of Wayne's persona: tough, two-fisted, independent, and naturally good, he's the prototype of the rugged, virtuous frontiersman. Added here, however, is a welcome touch of tolerance and sensitivity, absent from many of his later films. Hondo is no Ethan Edwards (or even Rooster Cogburn), but he's a fine, likeable protagonist, and certainly preferable to the boorish caricature of Andy McLaglen slop like McLintock!

Based on an early work by Louis L'Amour, Hondo is a pretty conventional genre piece with a few frills. James Edward Grant's script is well-written, with lots of funny dialogue (any scene with Hondo and Ward Bond's grizzled scout is a winner), but the film often drags (despite its 83-minute length), and its central romance never really catches fire. The movie tries to be fair in its portrayal of the Apache, but falls back on cowboys-and-injuns cliches towards the end. The well-realized Vittorio character is short-changed with an off-screen death. There's nothing terribly original here, though in such an archetypical genre as the Western, cliches aren't inherently bad.

Journeyman director John Farrow (Wake Island) does a fine job helming the picture, with beautiful location photography and well-staged action scenes. The film was originally shot in 3-D, but it isn't particularly intrusive, aside from an occasional "gimmick shot" (watch John Wayne sock the camera!). Hugo Friedhoffer and Emil Newman's score is pretty unremarkable.

John Wayne is at or near his best, playing his usual tough guy with unusual sensitivity. Geraldine Page is, unfortunately, a rather weak female lead. She's convincing enough as a self-sufficient frontier gal, but she has little chemistry with the Duke, a handicap when they spend half the film together. The ubiquitous Ward Bond (The Searchers) almost steals the show; his scenes with Wayne are undoubtedly the best in the film. Michael Pate (Major Dundee) makes Vittorio more than a typical "Redskin" caricature. A pre-Gunsmoke James Arness has a nice supporting role.

Hondo is a decent enough oater, but it's not one of the genre's best films. Still, you could do worse for an 83-minute John Wayne movie.

Now off to war!

That'll Be The Day

Hopefully you have all been enjoying my recent exploration of the Western genre; I know I have. Some brief notes before we move on to greener pastures (and homework):

Today is John Wayne's 103rd birthday! I will celebrate with one more Western review, of Hondo (1953), before transitioning into a war movie marathon in preparation for Memorial Day. Um, in between classes and work, of course.

I have Sands of Iwo Jima, Battle of Algiers and A Bridge Too Far on loan from the Carnegie Library. TCM is being accomodating, too: They're airing They Were Expendable tonight, and over the weekend, two favorites I would like to review, Battleground and The Best Years of Our Lives. Expect reviews on at least some of these soon.

For those of you bored with Western reviews, I will try and get back to more diverse fare in June. Before summer term wraps up, I hope to see Black Narcissus, rewatch Rent for review purposes, Persepolis if the Carnegie ever gets it back, additional Kurosawa, Hitchcock, Ford and more! Don't touch that dial!

Mercy, not Sacrifice...

Tiwonge Chimbalanga and Steven Monjeza were convicted last week in a Malawian court for unnatural acts and gross indecency, the words of the judge, not mine, receiving a maximum sentence of 14 years in prison with hard labour under the country's anti-gay legislation.

The culture in many African nations is vehemently anti-homosexual, since the family is seen as paramount. Imposing Western 'progressive' ideas such as gay liberation movements upon Africa amounts to neo-colonialism, but this verdict goes deeper than human law because the penalisation and State persecution of homosexuals runs contrary to Catholic Church teaching, which proclaims Christ's teaching, on social justice and mercy.

The idea of the State imposing such harsh punishments on homosexuals should horrify us whether we are gay, straight, Catholic or not. Christ commanded that we show mercy to our brothers and sisters, knowing that one Day, we shall all be 'in the dock'. In the case of these two men, some of us can say, 'It could have been me.' Furthermore, the Catholic Church has a good record in condemning the persecution of homosexuals on the African continent while other Protestant denominations acquiesce in an unjust and often violent persecution of men with a same-sex attraction.

According to the website, Daily Monitor...

The titular head of the Catholic Church in Uganda has weighed in on the proposed anti-homosexuality law, saying he rejects it because it is “at odds with the core values” of Christians. But while Kampala Archbishop Cyprian Lwanga’s opposition to the 2009 Anti-Homosexuality Bill is based on compassion, the cleric retains the view that homosexuality is immoral and violates God’s will. “The Bible says homosexuality is strictly forbidden,” Dr Lwanga said in a statement made public yesterday. However, the Church equally teaches the Christian message of respect, compassion, and sensitivity. The Church has always asked its followers to hate the sin but to love the sinner… In our view, the proposed [law] is not necessary considering that acts of sodomy are already condemned in the Penal Code.” 

Meanwhile, this statement by the Ugandan Catholic Church, calling for the protection from persecution of homosexuals is not in isolation. According to the Vatican’s statement, delivered by Father Philip Bene, legal attaché to the Holy See’s UN mission, the Catholic Church made this statement...

“Thank you for convening this panel discussion and for providing the opportunity to hear some very serious concerns raised this afternoon. My comments are more in the form of a statement rather than a question. As stated during the debate of the General Assembly last year, the Holy See continues to oppose all grave violations of human rights against homosexual persons, such as the use of the death penalty, torture and other cruel, inhuman and degrading punishment. The Holy See also opposes all forms of violence and unjust discrimination against homosexual persons, including discriminatory penal legislation which undermines the inherent dignity of the human person. As raised by some of the panelists today, the murder and abuse of homosexual persons are to be confronted on all levels, especially when such violence is perpetrated by the State. While the Holy See’s position on the concepts of sexual orientation and gender identity remains well known, we continue to call on all States and individuals to respect the rights of all persons and to work to promote their inherent dignity and worth.”

According to The Guardian, at their judgment, the judge is reported to have said...

"To me this case counts as the worst of its kind and carries a sense of shock against the morals of Malawi. Let posterity judge this judgment." Chimbalanga remained composed as armed police officers handcuffed him to Monjeza. "I am not worried," he shouted to reporters. But Monjeza broke down upon hearing the ruling and was still sobbing as he was helped into the van. Hundreds of onlookers shouted "You got what you deserve!", "Fourteen years is not enough, they should get 50!" and "You deserve death!"

African culture is supportive of natural law and the family and that is a moral good. What is a moral evil and a gross injustice is the persecution of men by the society and the State for their sexual orientation and for giving in to their temptation. Our Lord said, 'It is mercy, not sacrifice, that I desire.' Homosexuals should not be sacrificed in order to protect the society, nor should any sinner, since all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God. Our Lord warned us to resist the yeast of the Pharisees who looked down upon and wanted to stone those they deemed beyond God's love.

In the Person of Jesus Christ, they were surprised and horrified, not by God's desire for vengeance, but His thirst for mercy and His desire to forgive and to heal. God does not desire the death of the sinner, but his repentence so that he may live. Our Lord identified Himself with the outcast, those who are spat upon and derided by those who see themselves as respectable but forget that God sees into every man's heart and sees what is done in secret. Those who dispense civil judgment and those who see these men as evil and worthy of shame should recall that one day a more important and Eternal Judgment shall fall upon them and all of us, at an hour that we do not expect. Our Blessed Lord warned us that only the merciful would obtain mercy.

For a Few Dollars More

The Man With No Name returns in For a Few Dollars More (1965), the second of Sergio Leone's "Dollars Trilogy." Much more ambitious and large-scale than the modest, cheaply-budgeted A Fistful of Dollars, it shows signs of the Leone who would soon produce some of the greatest Westerns ever.

Psychotic outlaw El Indio (Gian Maria Volonte) is sprung from jail by his gang. Indio plots the robbery of the heavily-guarded bank at El Paso. Two bounty hunters - the amoral, quick-drawing Monco (Clint Eastwood), the coolly professional sharpshooter Colonel Mortimer (Lee Van Cleef) find themselves on Indio's trail. They form an uneasy alliance to take the bandit down, with Monco infiltrating his gang, but Indio's own crazy scheming threatens to foil the bounty hunters' well-laid plans.

For a Few Dollars More is more purely "Spaghetti Western" than most of Leone's work. It is full of laconic heroes, exaggerated, sadistic violence (21 people die in the first twenty minutes), an earthy sense of humor (Mortimer bursting in on a bathing woman, Blondie flirting with a slutty hotel clerk (Mara Krup)), nods to American Westerns (a key scene from The Tin Star is restaged comically), a simple yet convoluted plot, and cheapjack dubbing. Leone manages to make all this work, creating a movie that is incredibly enjoyable, deliciously convoluted and wickedly funny.

Leone's amoral, cynical take on the West is in full flower. "Life has no value," says the opening caption, and our amoral, coldly professional gunslingers are in place. Mortimer does have a motive for tracking down Indio, but the main motivation for both him and Monco is greed. Our two "heroes" are parodies of machismo, scuffing each other's boots and shooting each other's hats like children, each trying to out-scheme the other and come out on top. The only Sheriff we see is corrupt and cowardly, and very few townspeople are seen at all. Cynicism about progress is humorously expressed by the Old Prophet (Joseph Eggert) in a scene out of a Looney Tunes short; in a more serious, pointed form it would return in Once Upon a Time in the West.

Moving beyond the set-bound necessities of Fistful, Leone shows an ambitious, keen camera eye. The Almerian countryside is beautifully captured by Massimo Dallmano, the harsh, alien desert a perfect arena for the story. Carlo Simi also provides a wonderfully rustic and memorable set-design. Ennio Morricone provides an excellent score, as usual: the music runs the gamut from the jaunty, almost comic main theme (with whistles and Jew's harp) to the stately, oboe-and-choral "Goodbye, Colonel" track, and musical chime and organ for a church showdown.

Clint Eastwood plays the Man With No Name with more humor and self-awareness than before. Lee Van Cleef propels himself from a career as a bit-part Hollywood bad guy (High Noon, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance) to Spaghetti superstar (The Big Gundown, Day of Anger); his Mortimer is a simple character beautifully rendered. Gian Maria Volonte (Face to Face) provides an excellent counterpart to Eastwood and Van Cleef's stoicism, cackling, chewing scenery and smoking reefer as one of the hammiest villains ever. Luigi Pistilli (Death Rides a Horse) and Klaus Kinski (Doctor Zhivago) show up as two of Indio's more colorful henchmen.

For a Few Dollars More is no masterpiece, but it's fun and extremely enjoyable.

Look, Everybody...

Awwwwww...Wallabies! Look, you can see the baby putting his head out. How cute is that!?

I took this picture at Leonardslee Lakes and Gardens which I visited with my fiancee yesterday. It is, I have to say, a fantastic day out for people of all sexual orientations and none.

Yet, your roving, outrageously homophobic, queer bashing, closeted, self-hating, massive queen of an unemployed Catholic opinion blogging, independent journalist for free was there to catch an even bigger story than this. Could there be a bigger story than this? Yes. Yes there could be.

For behold, readers, these gardens, which have been open to the public since they were first opened public ages ago, are to close this June, so hurry up and visit these beautiful gardens which must contain, in the flora alone, I dare say, all the colours of the rainbow.

"Why are these beautiful gardens to close?!" I hear you cry in a voice louder than even the National Gay Men's Gospel Choir itself? Well, an 'anonymous foreign businessman', according to The Times, has purchased the whole plot of land, and like the greedy git that he patently is, is closing it so that only he and his rich mates can enjoy it! Outraged!? I know I am and I sure hope you are too! Get him boys, and indeed, girls, don't get me! He's the bad guy, look!

This breathtaking show of wealth and arrogant abrogation of beautiful national heritage and stunning scenery is worse than the sin of Sodom and could well be unforgivable even in the sight of the All-forgiving, merciful and loving Redeemer who loves everyone including gays who He longs to forgive and reconcile to Himself, like all sinners, in the Sacrament of Penance through His Priests.


If there is one issue that can unite all of us, one campaign that should see the entire World perhaps unite and forget all of our differences so that I receive less online hate mail, it has to be this one!

Is it a rich Arab? Is it a Russian tycoon? I don't know, but I think we can, all of us, traditional, orthodox Catholics or heretical LGBT lobby propagandists unite in condemnation of this stinking rich man, whoever he is, or wherever he is from, for coming over here, buying our gardens and lakes for around £8.5 million and not sharing them out with anyone, not even the people of West Sussex, let alone the poor or disabled. What an awful bastard! I think, given that he's bought the land a Facebook campaign might fail, but with the power of the LGBT political lobby behind us, I believe that anything is possible.

Let us all unite and condemn this rich landowner for being the selfish toerag that he is. Whoever you are, whatever your cause, or whosoever's rights you are currently campaigning for, drop it now, because Leonardslee Lakes and Gardens have been sold to a filthy rich foreigner and now he is grabbing all this beautiful land hitherto enjoyed by the great British public for just £8 during the week and £9 on Saturdays and he's going to turn it into his personal playground, for him and his filthy rich, millionaire friends.

Somebody, get me Peter Tatchell on the phone because, having had time to reflect on my previous views expressed through a blog earlier only hours earlier today, I've suddenly and inexplicably changed my mind totally about the 'aggressive' LGBT political lobby, who are meek as lambs, the practise of homosexual acts, a subject on which I no longer agree with Holy Mother Church because I've realised it just hates and punishes gays routintely for being who they are and IVF treatment, which should immediately be made free for lesbians, because if there's one thing lesbians deserve, its the sperm of some random man in Macclesfield in need of an extra tenner a month, so they can all have children while the friendly clinic wantonly destroys unwanted human embryos that they consider useless.

The Real Vice of the LGBT Political Lobby is Narcissicism

I have received quite a few comments on a previous post on the Rainbow Sash Movement, more than I usually receive. I would like to elaborate on why this 'movement' and all the movements which seek to undermine or subvert Holy Mother Church are so very dangerous.

The LGBT lobby is concerned with championning the rights of lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgendered people.  This much we know. Yet not all Catholics of a homosexual orientation are actively involved in the LGBT political movement.

There are a significant proportion of Catholics with a same sex attraction, we know that and heck, I know that. Some are active sexually, some are chaste, but not all Catholics, either active or chaste would place themselves in this political movement or campaign to champion the rights over which the LGBT lobby concern themselves.

On the other hand, some clearly do. Why? I would suggest that it is primarily because they are narcissists. There is a violent streak of narcissicism running through the arguments of Catholics who wish to make protest against either Church teaching or what they feel is prejudice against them, rooted in an inordinate desire for personal recognition. This is the case for the LGBT lobby on the whole and this is why the LGBT political movement within the Church should be seen as an infection, rather than a healthy movement for 'reforming the Church'. This self-love and desire for personal recognition in society and the Church, as well as the forging of a new identity grounded in sexuality alone is misguided and harmful to individuals, to society and, of course, to the Church.

Essentially, the campaign within the Church for recognition of LGBT rights is rooted in self-centredness and narcissicism. Even the mere idea of attending an LGBT Mass is inherently anti-Christian. It is closed, a club within the Church of men and women joined together not by their Faith in the Risen Christ, but by their sexual orientation and desire to see their interests given priority within the Church. Somehow, the Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ, which is essentially self-sacrificial in teaching and 'other-centred', becomes distorted by sin, selfishness and self-love, to become a Gospel of personal liberation and personal recognition which is corporately divisive. By this I mean that it divides the Body of Christ, rather than unites it. These souls have lost a sense of personal sin and believe that instead of serving, they believe that they and their needs and 'rights' need to be served. It is the spirit of the Antichrist.

These souls who will be wearing 'rainbow sashes' at Westminster Cathedral make it painfully clear that their chief concern is themselves and that their interests come before anything else - even the interests of Holy Mother Church. Quite apart from the fact that they will be guilty in desecrating the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and the Blessed Sacrament, in making a visible protest during Mass, they have failed to see that the Gospel is less about championning our 'rights' and more about serving, praising and adoring God and serving the needs of our neighbour.

Furthermore, when asked the question, 'Who is my neighbour?' Our Blessed Lord made it clear that the poorest, the most abandoned, persecuted and vulnerable should be a primary concern of every follower of His. There have been times when homosexuals have been persecuted, often violently, harshly and unjustly so, but it can no longer be said that this is a poor, despised community who require the help of Christians. The gay lobby is in the ascendency in society, having achieved nearly every one of its goals and their goals are their only concern.

If gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered Catholics really want to be Catholic and live the Gospel there are plenty of people in need of their help and whose rights they can defend. Among them are the poor, the homeless, the unborn, who, far from being able to marry, are unable to live, the despised and persecuted drug addicts you will find in every town in the UK, asylum seekers, the mentally ill and the elderly who receive inadequate care and dignity and will very soon come under pressure from lobbyists on euthanasia.

Our Lord said, "If any man should come after me let him take up his Cross daily and follow Me." In so doing Our Blessed Lord was making a call to self-denial for the love of Him. Brighton is a town in dire need of true Christianity and it is full of gay men, many of whom are very wealthy (and unhappy) because they do not have to spend money on children. The 'pink pound' is strong here. Hedonism and pleasure seeking is rife. There is, on the other hand, great poverty, stigmatisation and hounding of the homeless and drug addicts. These people are not treated with dignity by the authorities and are worthy of the help of Christians.

If a few of the gay bars became homeless hostels providing care and treatment for the homeless and drug addicted, then you would know that Brighton and Hove was a gay and Christian city indeed. That day, I am afraid, will never arrive, because those who involve themselves actively in the gay political movement are so self-absorbed that on the whole they make it clear that they only care about the interests of themselves and their associates. A Catholic active in the LGBT political movement is therefore guilty of the sin of omission since membership of that society is inherently exclusive of others. As Catholics we are called to love everyone and to give priority to the poor, persecuted and outcasts of society in whom Christ Himself is served. I am sorry, chaps and indeed chapesses, but gays no longer fit that bill.

Happy Pentecost all!

Robin Hood

In Hollywood's latest attempt to ruin childhoods everywhere, Ridley Scott presents a "dark," "revisionist" take on Robin Hood. Robin Hood (2010) is both a horribly misguided piece of tosh and a grab bag of scenes and ideas from dozens of other, better films. In short, it sucks.

Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe) is an archer serving with Richard the Lionheart (Danny Huston) in the Crusades. When Richard is killed in a battle with French troops, Robin and his buddies return the crown to England, with Robin posing as Robert Loxley (Douglas Hodge), son of a nobleman (Max Von Sydow) living in rural Nottingham. The new King John (Oscar Isaac) is oppressive and inept, turning the nobles against him; treacherous nobleman Sir Godfrey (Mark Strong) connives with France's King to conquer England. Robin woos Maid (really Widow) Marian (Cate Blanchett) and tries to organize Nottingham against Godfrey's scheming.

Ridley Scott was once the director of intelligent and exciting sci-fi films (Alien, Blade Runner). While I'm not the biggest fan of either, at least they showed a degree of creativity and original thought. The last decade of Scott films, notsomuch. Gladiator was a serviceable sword-and-sandal flick burdened with an underdeveloped political subplot cribbed from Spartacus. Black Hawk Down is a decent war flick if you haven't seen Saving Private Ryan/We Were Soldiers/Windtalkers/etc. Kingdom of Heaven was a nice try at an old-fashioned epic, ruined by Orlando Bloom and simple-minded "religion=bad" preaching. American Gangster was a good if derivative crime flick, but Body of Lies was a dull misfire. Robin Hood continues this trend, showing that Scott has long since lost his talent.

Robin Hood boldly posits itself as showing "the man behind the legend", an idiotic conceit since Robin Hood never existed. At least Batman Begins didn't posit Bruce Wayne as a real person. The purpose seems to disabuse its audience of the notion that Robin Hood wore green Technicolor tights or was a cartoon fox, surely a noble and worthwhile pursuit. Bloating the film up to epic length doesn't help matters. Not every movie needs to be Lawrence of Arabia or The Godfather, least of all one about bloody Robin Hood. The irreverent joy and fun of Errol Flynn's Adventures of Robin Hood, the Disney animated version, Robin and Marian or even Kevin Costner's early '90s take is completely absent here, replaced by dour, grimy gloom.

The movie is dark, nasty, and brutish, though painfully long. The action scenes are extremely violent and brutal for PG-13, proving yet again that the MPAA is bonkers. The characters are one-note, boring ciphers without motivation. The film sprinkles in drivel about freedom and liberty (apparently Robin's father wrote the Magna Carta!) in a misguided attempt to add depth to what should be a fun adventure film. Such humor as exists is juvenile and imbecilic. So bereft of joy and fun, indeed so tenuously connected to the legend is it, that there's no reason why the movie should call itself Robin Hood in the first place.

It doesn't help, either, that Scott blatantly steals from many other movies: from Godfrey's Joker-inspired facial scar and Robin's Henry V/Braveheart "FREEDOM!!!" speech, to The Patriot-inspired barn burning and the Saving Private Ryan-esque landing craft and beach battle, there's scarcely an original thought present. Perhaps not surprisingly, Scott "borrows" a good deal from his own Gladiator, particularly the portrayal of John as an ineffectual ninny. All this not-so-earth-friendly recycling belies claims of being a "fresh" take on anything.

The movie cost a pretty penny ($220+ million) and rest assured, every dollar of that is on screen. Period costumes, sets and locations are painstakingly created by Scott and crew, and John Mathieson's photography is often breath-taking. The battle scenes are big and competently staged, though ultimately repetitive; as Lord of the Rings proved, one can only watch so many scenes of computer-generated dudes hacking each other to bits before it gets boring. Brian Helgeland's script is by-the-numbers in both story and dialogue, and Marc Streitenfeld's score is equally dull.

Russell Crowe provides the most boring Robin Hood ever. His conversion from opportunistic soldier to freedom fighter is ridiculously abrupt, and he's a flimsy and unconvincing protagonist. Cate Blanchett is always welcome, but portraying Maid Marian as a tough, castrating feminist is hard to swallow. Oscar Isaac (Body of Lies) chews lots of scenery as King John, playing him as the bastard child of Joaquin Phoenix's Commodus and Peter O'Toole's Henry II. Hollywood villain du jour Mark Strong (Sherlock Holmes, The Young Victoria) is a boring, unmotivated and uninteresting bad guy. Lots of fine actors - Max Von Sydow (Shutter Island), William Hurt (Syriana), Danny Huston (John Adams), Eileen Atkins (Gosford Park) - toil in worthless supporting roles.

Did we need a "revisionist" take on the Robin Hood legend in the first place? I say no, and certainly not a boring, derivative mess like this. Go see Iron Man 2 instead; at least you'll have fun at that one. Robin Hood can only make you bored, sad or angry.

Teresa May MP Bullied into Submission

How very ironic. Teresa May MP has been forced to change her opinion by a certain lobby, who pompously claim to be against bullying.

Why? Because as new Home Secretary and 'Equality Minister', her voting record did not go down well with over 65,000 Facebook campaigners. Her voting record, for the record, from a Catholic point of view was rather good.

According to an irate writer in The Socialist, she voted...

'...against the repeal of Section 28 and against the lowering of the age of consent for gay men to 16. She also voted against adoption rights for same-sex couples and against the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Bill which would give lesbian couples the ability to receive fertility treatment, as did the new Conservative Prime Minister. In addition she abstained from a vote on the Gender Recognition Act that allows transsexuals to change their legal gender.'

How shocking that Teresa May did not buckle in the Commons to the demands of the LGBT lobby and dance to their tune like her predecessor Harriet Harman did during her time as Minister for the Promotion of Homosexuality. Now that Teresa May has, as part of her brief, the responsibility for 'equalities', she has begun to do the YMCA, but only because of the hatred poured forth from those whose only agenda is for the LGBT community.

A Sack Teresa May campaign and a Facebook page with a similar title was quickly established which attacked her for, basically, standing up in the Commons in defense of marriage, the child, natural law and the family. All of these concepts appear alien to the LGBT community and their supporters who clearly believe that life is just one big erotic festival and that children, families, married couples and religious faith are concepts that belong to ages past, never to be allowed to rear their ugly heads again.

I managed to see footage of the Question Time debacle in which Teresa May buckled under the pressure of cameras and lights and lent her support to gay adoption. Christina Odone, a 'Catholic' who writes for The Telegraph, appears to think this is wonderful news, 'Quite right too,' she wrote on her blog.

Gay adoption is not a moral good, since every child deserves a mother and a father who can be protectors, carers and role models for the child. A family requires a mother and a father. A child needs both maternal love and care and paternal love and guidance. Of course, the LGBT community don't really think of the best interests of the child, they are consumed with self-interest and the promotion of their rights to the detriment of the child.

Neither is the promotion of the homosexual lifestyle to teenagers by lowering the age of consent to 16 a moral good, since at the age of 16, children are just coming to terms with their sexual maturity. Many of the victims of sexual abuse in the Church, especially in the US, were in fact around this age and look what happened to those children. 16 year old children can be easily groomed by homosexuals who do not have their best interests at heart and who want them only for their own sexual satisfaction. Section 28 was concerned primarily with the protection of the child as was, of course, the age of consent at 18, rather than 16 when a teenager is still in his or her formative years. Above all, LGBT campaigners are reckless and especially so, given that rates of HIV in the gay community continue to remain high.

Nearly every Government proposal in the Human Fertlisation and Embryology Bill was morally repulsive and destructive of human life. This is the same Bill which enshrined in legislation the rights of the scientific community to bastardise, experiment upon, inject animal DNA into and then destroy, human embryos. It is no surprise therefore that the same Government proposed that lesbian couples should receive fertility treatment and leave countless children without fathers quite deliberately.

This is a 'brave new world' indeed, but a braver one would stand up to communities of men and women who are so blinkered by their own ideologies and sexual fetishes that they are willing to sacrifice morality absolutely in order to achieve their goals. The child is not a right, but a gift from God. Marriage is not a human invention but the union of one man and one woman before Almighty God. This country has been held to ransom by men and women whose hearts are not set upon the moral improvement of society, but the destruction of society from within. Without families, without marriage, without children and without the bedrock of Faith this society and indeed the whole of Europe will fall apart. The amorality which those who bullied Teresa May into submission propose will indeed contribute not to a new and better society, but the collapse of a whole civilisation descending into sterility, self-interest and personal pleasure at the expense of this generation and all generations to come.

Calling all Altar Servers...

 How exciting!

The Society of St. Tarcisius is a Sodality of altar servers for the traditional Latin mass.

Its objects are:

1. To promote the dignified, devout, and accurate service of the altar in the traditional Roman rite.

2. To promote the spiritual formation of altar servers, in the spirit of St Tarcisius, who accepted death rather than allow the profanation of the most holy sacrament.

3. To disseminate information on the correct service of the altar, and arrange from time to time training events for servers.

4. To maintain a list of those who are willing and able to serve at the traditional liturgy, and provide this information to those organizing traditional events, where needed.

The Society is specifically committed to the traditional Latin liturgy of the Catholic church, in a form no later than that current in 1962.

The Society of St Tarcisius is sponsored by the Latin Mass Society of England and Wales - Traditional Catholicism for the 21st Century.

I hope very much to join this Society. Remember, that doesn't make me a 'SST Catholic', just a Catholic who longs to see God revered, honoured and worshipped in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar. The patron of the Society, incidently, died doing just that, since the defense of the Blessed Sacrament was of greater importance to him than any earthly thing.

If you would like to join, email the secretary, David Forster at secretary@saint-tarcisius.org.uk

No rainbow sashes on the Altar, please. Love for the Blessed Sacrament and a desire to serve God on His Sanctuary will suffice.

"When There's No Getting Over That Rainbow..."

The Rainbow Sash Movement are, according to their website and Fr Tim Finigan, who blogged about this a couple of days ago, encouraging 'LGBT Catholics' to attend the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass at Westminster Cathedral.

My first instinct over reading this news was one of great sadness, since there are clearly a minority of Catholics with the condition of homosexuality who feel they are not included in the Church, to the extent that the Rainbow Sash Movement, impelled by their inexplicable desire to 'queer the Church' are organising a protest against what they perceive as prejudice, but what amounts only to the Teaching of the Church. Having watched this video on their website my feelings have changed. Watch it, it is hilarious.



Of course, it is made less humourous by the fact that these Catholics are no friends of Holy Mother Church. There are, of course, many Catholics who struggle with Church teaching on chastity, the sanctity of marriage and struggle with their sexuality. I count myself as one of these souls. These men and women are not enemies of the Church, but souls who find refuge in God's abundant mercy and forgiveness and find both in Confession and reception of the Holy Eucharist.

The Rainbow Sash Movement, on the other hand, are intent on subverting not just the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, or even just Church teaching (which will never change on matters of sexual morality), but the Church Herself. The website recommends that 'LGBT Catholics' acquire a rainbow sash which they can then pin on their apparrel on approaching Holy Communion. If they are 'denied' Communion they are then advised to go back to their seats and stand up while everyone else kneels, prays to Our Lord and speaks to Him longingly in their hearts.

I very much doubt that the 'rainbow' contingent will be large in number. That said, anyone who approaches Our Blessed Lord in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar while attempting to make a brazen and shameful political statement against His Church, their Mother has clearly misunderstood both Who they are approaching and why they should be approaching Him. What do these souls believe the Church is, if She is not the Ark of Truth and Dispenser of God's Mercy?

Jesus Christ, true God and true Man, Who is truly present in the Blessed Sacrament knows well the hearts and souls of His children. If you are a homosexual, you do not need to tell Him, for He well knows. If you are a lesbian, God the Eternal Son is aware of the fact. If you are attracted to members of the same sex and those of the opposite sex, Our Lord knows all about it for He is God and, being God, lover of souls, healer of the afflicted and broken hearted, comforter of the contrite and Hope of Christians, our Redeemer and Saviour is interested not in our political motivations, since the Rainbow Sash Movement is inherently and overtly political in its desire to subvert and change Church teaching, but our souls. If you are in a state of mortal sin, He knows this as well and all Catholics, gay, straight, mutilated by doctors or into sex with anyone should receive Absolution before approaching He who is Lord of Heaven and Earth made present on the Altar.

Let us be clear and unambiguously so. There are no 'LGBT Catholics', there are only Catholics. There are no 'Black Catholics', there are only Catholics. There are no 'Latin Mass Catholics', there are only Catholics and if, sorrowfully indeed for you, you cannot bear to present yourself to God the Eternal Son as His child, a baptised Catholic, as one grateful that the Lord Himself should come to you, a poor sinner, in humility and mindful of His great mercies, in awe of the One Who died for you and has come down from Heaven to you under the guise of Bread, then you should not receive Him at all.

The Naked Spur/The Tin Star: Anthony Mann's Bounty Hunters

Two more Anthony Mann flicks to review today, the bounty hunter-oriented films The Naked Spur (1953) and The Tin Star (1957). Both are middle-of-the-pack Westerns, and certainly not on a par with Mann's best work (The Man From Laramie, Devil's Doorway), though each has its merits. Two things you can generally count on from Mann are great photography and great performances, and both of these films have that, even if other departments are lacking.

The Naked Spur (1953)



The Naked Spur is Mann's third collaboration with James Stewart, and probably his weakest. It's worth watching mainly for some gorgeous Technicolor scenery and an excellent turn by Stewart; other elements - plot and supporting characters in particular - are lacking.

Bounty hunter Howie Kemp (James Stewart) tracks outlaw Ben Vandergroat (Robert Ryan) and his gal pal Lina (Janet Leigh) all the way from Abilene, Kansas to Colorado Territory. He enlists the reluctant help of prospector Jesse Tate (Millard Mitchell) and Army deserter Roy Anderson (Ralph Meeker) to bring Ben in, neglecting to mention the $5,000 reward on Ben's head. Ben exploits the tension between Howie and his colleagues, trying to turn them against each other to affect his escape. Things are complicated when a group of Indians arrive looking for Roy, and Lina starts to fall for Howie.

The Naked Spur has a fairly simple story, with only five speaking parts, that is jammed with action and conflict. It crams a lot into 91 minutes, including a shootout with Indians, a romance, Howie's inner torment and the interplay of his four colleagues. Not all of it works, however. Sam Rolfe and Harold Jack Bloom's script lacks the marvellous economy of Winchester '73 (1950), and aside from Howie the characters remain rote archetypes, making their conflicts less than interesting. The movie succeeds when focusing on the tormented and bitter Howie, but the pseudo-happy ending somehow seems wrong.

As to be expected, Mann's photographic eye is on-target. Using William Mellor's gorgeous Technicolor photography, he films beautiful yet foreboding Rocky Mountain landscapes, making the Mountains a character in their own right. (It's fudged a bit, however, by a sadly-deficient DVD.) The Indian attack scene is by-the-numbers, but the climactic shootout among the rapids is expertly staged. The movie contains trademark touches of Mann violence; Howie gets shot in the leg and rope-burned, and during the final showdown, Ben gets a spur jabbed in his face. Bronislau Kaper contributes a good but not exceptional score.

James Stewart plays the most negative character of his career, with the possible exception of Vertigo. His Mann protagonists were always edgy, violent and neurotic, but Howie is close to a full-blown psychopath: obsessive in his pursuit of Ben, greedy, and unfailingly rude towards his "partners." The movie gives him a motivation (he lost his wife and farm during the Civil War) but he remains violent and mostly unlikeable until the ending. Stewart pulls off this difficult role wonderfully, and it's definitely among his best performances.

The rest of the cast doesn't fare so well. Groggy favorite Robert Ryan (The Wild Bunch) is good but a bit hammy; he's so obviously a sleaze that it's hard to see why Howie's colleagues fall for his BS. He comes off badly compared to Glenn Ford's similar but much more subdued villain in 3:10 to Yuma (1957). Janet Leigh's (Psycho) change of heart towards Stewart seems rushed and unconvincing. Millard Mitchell (Winchester '73) and Ralph Meeker (The Dirty Dozen) are one-note stock characters.

The Tin Star (1957)



The Tin Star is a horse of a different color. It's a remarkably conventional, even generic Western, made all the more remarkable that such an un-conventional director as Mann would direct it. Mann deserves credit for making such cliched material as enjoyable as it is.

Bounty hunter Morg Hickman (Henry Fonda) rides into a small town hoping to collect the reward on an outlaw. He finds that the Sheriff has been murdered, and the Sheriff's son Ben Owens (Anthony Perkins) is minding the store. Morg reluctantly takes Ben under his wing, teaching him the tricks of the trade, all the while falling for a local widow (Betsy Palmer) and her "half-breed" son Kip (Michel Ray). Things come to a head when the beloved Doctor McCord (John McIntire) is murdered by two outlaw brothers (Lee Van Cleef and Peter Baldwin), and local bully Bogardis (Neville Brand) leads a posse to lynch them. Ben must take the outlaws in alive, and face Bogardis in a final showdown.

Every Western cliche imaginable is present here: the tenderfoot Sheriff learning the trade; the embittered gunslinger looking for a home; the kindly widow and kid who need a father; the mean, racist bad guy. This sounds like a script for Gunsmoke, not Anthony Mann, but Mann and screenwriter Dudley Nichols play the cliches for all they're worth. The movie is endearing for all its earnestness, and the talent behind and in front of the camera makes it all work.

Mann takes elements from previous films and neuters them. The tormented characters of Mann's usual films are replaced by formula archetypes. Far from Stewart's neurotic Howie Kemp, Fonda's Morg Hickman is a nice guy, bitter though he is. Bogardis is like a playground bully, who only needs someone to stand up to him. The movie makes a big deal about the town's racism towards Kip and other Indians, the only unconventional element of a thoroughly square oater.

Mann delivers another visually-striking film. The movie is fairly limited in scope, but Loyal Grigg's black-and-white photography is no less striking. Nichols' script is fairly schematic, but Mann gets some nice scenes out of it, particularly the lengthy siege of the outlaw brothers. Elmer Bernstein delivers a fine, rather restrained score.

Henry Fonda plays Morg as a typical Henry Fonda character: tough but wise. Fonda could play this role in his sleep, but to his credit, he makes the character likeable and compelling. Anthony Perkins fairs less well; he's mostly stiff until the finale. Betsy Palmer is sweet if unremarkable. Neville Brand makes a fine bad guy, and John McIntire is excellent in an uncharacteristically-likeable role. Lee Van Cleef (The Good, the Bad and the Ugly) turns up as a second-tier bad guy. Kip is played by Michel Ray, a talented child actor who would play Farraj in Lawrence of Arabia before starting a very successful business career.

PS: Check out this awesome Westerns blog, Decisions at Sundown, if you get the chance.

Baby Gives Thumbs Up in the Womb

This is a baby at 20 weeks giving a thumbs up in the womb.

In our country he needs to wait to 24 weeks to be safe to give this sign.

Click here for the I-petition against the advert to be screened on Channel 4 on Monday.

Meanwhile, John Smeaton has some other advice for concerned Catholics, lifted and posted below.

Channel 4 will be broadcasting an advertisement by Marie Stopes International, the abortion promoter and provider, on Monday evening at 10.10pm. Please act immediately to help stop the ad, by:

• contacting Rt Hon Jeremy Hunt MP, the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport. The Secretary of State has the power to stop the ad through his powers relating to Ofcom - please urge him to use that power. The department's email address is enquiries@culture.gov.uk (alternatively enquiries@culture.gsi.gov.uk )  and the department's telephone number is (020) 7211 6000.
• contact your MP, asking him/her to urge the Secretary of State to stop the ad. You can email your MP via http://www.spuc.org.uk/mps You can also telephone your MP via the parliamentary switchboard on (020) 7219 3000.

Below are some arguments and information you can use when writing to the Secretary of State and to your MP:

• Allowing abortion to be advertised on TV will lead to more unborn babies being killed and to more women and girls suffering the after-effects of abortion. Abortion ads will trivialise abortion. It is an insult to the hundreds of women hurt by abortion every day. Such ads are offensive and will mislead viewers about the reality of abortion, which is the killing of unborn children.
• Marie Stopes centres are not advice centres but abortion factories. They fast-track women down a path to abortion, because they have an ideological commitment to abortion. Even if Monday night’s ad doesn’t mention abortion, Marie Stopes is well-known as an abortion provider (cf. their “Abortion” ads on the London Underground.)
• Marie Stopes may claim to be a non-profit organisation, but they have a financial interest in drumming up demand for abortion. Marie Stopes has a cavalier attitude to obeying legal restrictions regarding abortion, and has been implicated in illegal abortions overseas. Neither Marie Stopes nor any similar organisation should be allowed to advertise the killing of unborn children.
• Although Marie Stopes claims to be a charity helping women, its huge multi-national revenue means it can afford TV advertising, which is hugely expensive. This creates an unfair playing field, as pro-life groups simply cannot afford any such advertising.
• The Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport has the power to insist that Ofcom controls advertising in this area. We call upon him to intervene immediately. [cf. Communications Act 2003 s.321.
• Abortion is in English law a criminal offence (Offences Against The Person Act 1861, though not prosecuted if the conditions of the Abortion Act 1967 are met). Advertising of a criminal offence is not permitted.
  European law also prohibits the advertising of restricted (i.e. on prescription) medical procedures, such as abortion. [cf. the Audio-Visual Media Regulations 2010, preamble, 89]
• The Broadcasting Act 1990 requires that advertising is not offensive or harmful. Abortion is offensive to the countless women damaged by abortion; and lethally harmful to the hundreds of unborn children aborted every day.
• Last year 29,000 people signed a SPUC-organised paper petition to the prime minister against a proposal to allow abortion agencies to advertise on television and radio. Hundreds of people also wrote submissions to the broadcasting authorities against the proposal.

Channel 4 'Secret Millionaire' Exclusive!

Last week Channel 4 were at the BUCFP, Brighton's centre for the unemployed. They told the centre that they were filming for a documentary about the recession.

So, they did some filming and covered the 'story' of a man called Brad, a man living in a camper van on the seafront, who was fed by the St Mary Magdalen Soup Run. To the right is a picture of them filming during an art group.

Or at least that was what the BUCFP were led to believe. It turned out at the end of the week that Channel 4 were, in fact, filming an episode of 'The Secret Millionaire'. There were tears of joy from committed volunteers in the centre when the 'secret millionaire', who had left some in the centre feeling 'conned' because they thought they were meeting a man down on his luck everyday during filming, handed over a cheque to the centre for £25,000.

I asked one of the Channel 4 team of freelancers whether I could have a picture of 'Brad' for the centre magazine. I have since had an email back saying that they don't want any publicity about this to get out into the open (how many people can the unemployed centre's magazine reach with a print run of 400?), so 'no', I can't have a picture of him or a quote from him or the Channel 4 team.

So, in light of the fact that Channel 4 have so brazenly accepted blood money in showing an abortion advert for Marie Stopes, I thought I'd simply do my journalistic duty and cover the story. Hopefully, The Argus will pick up on it. I'll send them a copy of this post now.

So, just to recap, then. This is a local 'exclusive'. The BUCFP received £25,000 from a 'secret millionaire', Brad, following a week of filming in which the centre were led to believe he was a beggar living on the seafront. He made his fortune in the care industry. He saw the work that the BUCFP do and liked what he saw so he gave them money. I believe he was fed by the Soup Run. Unfortunately, Karla and her team of committed volunteers were not on the receiving end of his generosity and the Soup Run did not receive a cheque.

I personally commended Brad on his generosity and asked him if he'd like to meet my friend with nearly no teeth, as he really needs implants. He replied, "Oh, yes, that's awful. My nephew suffered the same problem. No. Sorry. Go well."

I suppose that 'The Secret Millionaire' would lose its sense of drama if they were honest to the volunteers of centres that provide assistance and relief to the poor, but that didn't stop some in the centre from feeling very deceived by Channel 4 and the rich man slumming it on the seafront so that he could egotistically hand over a load of money and be filmed doing it.

Don't worry Channel 4, I only get between 400-500 hits on this blog a day, but I hope the local newspaper blow your cover, only because you didn't want any publicity of this exciting story for the BUCFP to get into the magazine ran by unemployed volunteers...and accepted money from Marie Stopes International to promote abortion to pregnant women and girls.

How terrible it is that you are more protective of your documentaries than you are of the unborn and vulnerable teenagers.