Remember When the BBC Was Good?

Even the theme tunes were good for their heartfelt, poignant sitcoms.

Oh BBC! Whatever happened to you? Is the World so bad you want to encourage people to be childless?!

Happy Anniversary!

Today is the 2nd anniversary of Groggy Dundee! Thanks for reading and I wish my readers all the best. Here's to another great year!

If Contraception is the Best Way to Combat STIs and Teen Pregnancy...

...then why does the NHS Direct website suggest that contraception fails very regularly indeed?

The website home page has a link to 'contraception enquiries', which, if you follow it will bring you to the webpage above. Other 'Symptom Checkers', which appear on the NHS Direct site every time you visit it are 'male sexual health' and 'female sexual health'. In fact, given that these are the only 'Symptom Checkers' that appear on the home page of the site, one could be forgiven for thinking that the NHS only exists to provide advice about 'emergency contraception', the most pernicious phrase ever invented, since the 'emergency' only becomes apparant once you are worried that you have already conceived.

Duel in the Sun

David O. Selznick tries to replicate the success of Gone With the Wind with sweetheart Jennifer Jones and a Western setting. The result is this hideously overproduced, feverishly over-the-top and laughably bad film, which does little more than sully the names of those involved. If it weren't for Mackenna's Gold, this might well be the worst big-budget Western ever made.

Pearl Chavez (Jennifer Jones) is a half-breed girl who goes to live with her distant relatives, the powerful but crippled Senator McCanless (Lionel Barrymore) and his sweet wife Lulubelle (Lillian Gish), after her father kills her cheating mother in a jealous rage. She finds herself attracted to Lewt (Gregory Peck), the Senator's no-good, rotten son, and the straight-laced Jessie (Joseph Cotten). Pearl is ostensibly torn between the two men, while trying to become a respectable member of society. Meanwhile, McCanless declares war on an encroaching railroad, and his family is torn apart as Lewt and Jessie take separate sides in the conflict.

Duel in the Sun is often touted as a "camp classic," but that's being kind. The hysterically bad finale might qualify for this label, but most of the film is just bloated, dull and aggressively mediocre. The astonishing production values, including gorgeous Technicolor photography (the studio-lit sunsets are otherworldly) and James Basevi's ravishing set designs, merely highlight greater flaws: for all the effort put into making the film look good, zero effort seems put into making it make sense. In this regard, Duel is just as offensive and empty as certain modern blockbusters.

The domineering Selznick went through seven directors, including such luminaries as King Vidor, Joseph Von Sternberg and William Dieterle, and it shows. The plot is disjointed, unfocused and all over the damned place, not making a lick of sense; the various plot strands go out on their own, creating a confused muddle weighed down with cliches. Individual scenes are excellent - the sprawling bar in the opening scene, a showdown between McCandless's hired guns and the US Cavalry - but none of it comes together to anything coherent. Selznick's epic pretensions are left in the dust as the story wanders and characters screw, slap and shoot each other without motivation. Selznick had similar issues on Gone With the Wind, but still managed to pull a mostly good film together. Here, they add up to epic failure.

Characterization is another area in which the film fails. Pearl is a schizophrenic protagonist, a fallen woman seeking redemption in one scene, an eloping, lusty slut the next. These changes in character occur at the drop of the hat, hardly conducive to our sympathizing with Pearl. The rest of the cast are one-note, cartoonish stereotypes: the vile, lusty Lewt, the straight-laced Jessie, the tyrannical Senator, the virtuous Lulubelle. Along with the cliched story, the other-worldly photography and campy violence, this makes for a heaping pile of lurid melodrama, with the depth and originality of a dime-store romance novel.

In fairness, the finale is so hysterically bad that it deserves special mention. Pearl and Lewt confront each other in a canyon and blast away at each other, crying out each other's name, crawling across the desert and embracing as they die. It's a fitting epitaph to the film, a nonsensical, feverish mess that can't make up its damned mind. This hilarious scene rivals the fight in Rasputin and the Empress as the most ludicrous scene in Classic Hollywood, and is the one marginally-interesting part of the film.

Jennifer Jones puts her all into her role, but she hasn't a chance with her hopelessly schizophrenic character. Gregory Peck is badly miscast as a leering bad boy: his other collaborations with Selznick (on Hitchcock's Spellbound and The Paradine Case) are little better. Joseph Cotten tends to be either really good or really bland, and he's definitely the latter here. Lionel Barrymore (Rasputin and the Empress) and Walter Huston (The Furies) chew scenery like it's going out of style, and Butterfly McQueen plays a re-run of Gone With the Wind's Prissy. Perhaps the one bright spot is silent star Lillian Gish, who gives her part a dignified, tragic gravitas lacking from the rest of the film.

Duel in the Sun is the Transformers of its day: for all it's impressive production values, it's still a monumentally stupid piece of drek. Selznick was so concerned with everything being big that being good was of little concern. Sadly, it seems Hollywood learned the wrong lesson from this film.

Breaking News: Pro-Lifers Arrested Outside Wiston Clinic

For one reason and another, I did not attend the pro-life display outside the Wiston Clinic off Dyke Road, Brighton today. By the way, I don't know why it is not called 'Wiston BPAS Abortion Clinic', but I suppose that abortion clinics would rather keep their practises available and legal, post-the Abortion Act (1967), but retain the 'backstreet' secrecy and shadowy vagueness of their operations pre-the Abortion Act (1967).

Why aren't they honest? They need to sell themselves more. "Wiston BPAS Abortion Clinic: Premium Providers of Abortions to the Community of Brighton and Hove".

Anyway, the Abort67 representatives in Brighton today went back to the same place they did last week, with the same placards as they did last week, when they were confronted by a policeman who told them that he could "see no problem" with what they, or rather, we, were doing. For those who do not follow this blog, basically the Abort67 representatives turned up outside Wiston Clinic last week with big banners showing what an aborted foetus actually looked like. Unpleasant, yes, but to do that wasn't a crime last week...But guess what...this week...it is!

The Abort67 representatives, according to one of the organisers of the pro-life display who just emailed me, were arrested by Sussex Police, yes that's the same Sussex Police who have just been rocked by the scandal of employing a policeman who used £80,921 raised through cocaine-dealing to top up his Sussex Police Salary (believe me, I imagine that is the tip of the iceberg), today for doing exactly what they did last week. Apparently, it all depends upon whether a member of the public is 'offended' and whether the banner is clearly visible.

According to the organiser...

'We returned to the abortion Clinic in Brighton today. There was a good number of us so we could divide ourselves between the clinic entrance and the prominent junction of Dyke Road and Old Shoreham Road. We had two banners set up showing an 8 week old aborted embryo and a 10 week aborted foetus. Whilst the women who were well practised at approaching the girls stuck to the entrance.

When the police came out they said that there had been several phone calls about the banners. They therefore asked us to take the banners down. We explained that we were not prepared to do this as we felt that we had a right to show a legal procedure under freedom of expression. They talked amongst themselves for sometime to decide what they were going to do. Two more officers came out and explained the same thing; that as people were offended by the images that we had to remove them under the Public Order Act section 5. We told them that we did not believe that the Public Order Act was appropriate as we were not being abusive, threatening or insulting.

We said again that we were prepared to be arrested and this was probably the best way forward. So Kathryn and I got a ride up to Hollingbury police station, fingerprints, DNA and photographs all taken. It seems though they were reluctant to charge us perhaps because of the weakness of the case against us so they gave us a fixed penalty notice of £80 each which we have refused to pay as we want this in the courts where it can be fought. We were then released.

We aren't interested in civil disobedience but in restoring civil liberties robbed from the general public over the last few years. We will not make abortion unthinkable until we can prove to society that it is an act of violence that kills a baby. That is why we need to challenge the law in the area of freedom of expression first. We may well go out again next week with the banners we have left.'

If it goes to court, which apparently it will if they refuse to pay the fine, I will, one way or another, endeavour to attend the court hearing and report on the proceedings. The perverse logic of both the police and some of the general public in Brighton would be comical if it were not so diabolical.

"Quick, someone! Call the police! Some mad men and women are attempting to persuade someone not to agree to having their child murdered and they're giving the abortion clinic free advertising! Call the cops!"

Well done to The Argus, our local rag, though, who revealed today the cocaine cop story and the fact that Poundland, the discount chain that pledges to offer everything for the home, is 'selling pornography for a pound across Sussex next to children's books, drinks and sweets'! Hmm...Is that the Trading Standards Act or the Public Order Act? Was the local area manager arrested? I don't think so. Is he angling for a job in the CES? Possibly!

In 21st Century Britain and certainly in 21st Century Brighton, you see, everything is tolerated. You can be an active homosexual, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered person and campaign for your 'right' to 'equality'.

Offensive: Ghastly lung cancer

Graphic images of sodomy, the heightened HIV risks associated with it and ghastly gender reassignment operations are rarely employed in their campaigning literature, just as the abortion industry shies away from the truth about abortion because, let's face it, if 'health warnings' were made widely available regarding sodomy and its effects, gender reassignment operations and abortion in the way they are with cigarettes, none would appear so appealing to the general populace, nor would human law endorse all three so readily.

A whole raft of new 'rights' are being embraced by society, but I'm yet to see men and women at the Pride parade, to be held next Saturday, rounded up and taken to Hollingbury Police Station and arrested for campaigning for 'gay marriage', something still illegal in the UK, much to the chagrin of Tatchell and Co Ltd.

Warning: The above video may contain some scenes of nudity!

Now that's what I call a breach of the Public Order Act! Heck! Maybe this whole Public Order Act offense lark depends upon how many people are doing it at the time! I haven't seen any of the 'naked bike riders' arrested under the Public Order Act, an Act which they yearly violate by cycling around Brighton stark bollock naked, but I'll bet you what I own, which isn't much, that if I walk out of my house now with my knackers hanging out I'll spend the night in the cells. I'm sure there must be a couple of old grannies who call the police every year and say, "Excuse me, but there's a load of men and women stark bollock naked outside on bicycles on London Road and I don't want my grandchildren to see that!"

Neither, for that matter, are the hoards who descend upon Brighton for Pride, every year, arrested for street drinking, copious amounts of class A drug abuse, noise pollution and shagging in the bushes, even though the homeless are persecuted by Sussex Police and the CPSOs everyday just for having a can of Special Brew in their hands. I might spend Pride weekend this year on a mobile phone camped on London Road calling the police and telling them that I've spotted some men and women breaking the Council's by-law against street drinking, while wearing a 'God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve' t-shirt, but I doubt they'll arrive since that law only applies to the homeless community, who are, clearly, targetted.

Everything is permissable because Britain is a permissive and 'tolerant' society. Yes, everything is permissable and nearly everything is tolerated. Everything, everything, that is, except the open expression of the Christian faith and the championning of the rights of the unborn by men and women who regard abortion clinics to be the places of industrial genocide that they daily and routinely are. It is all too easy to forget that only a hundred years ago in this country it was abortionists who most considered 'mad', not Christians.

There will be more news to come on this when I receive it, but suffice to say, I shall conclude by saying that it is quite clear to all and sundry that Sussex Police neither know the law, nor do they uphold it.

Why Emmaus UK is Nothing But a Modern Day Workhouse

I've just paid a visit to Emmaus Portslade. After a sudden 'recall' by Fiat, my car was at a garage in the area having the ABS fixed because, apparently, due to the problem of "salt and water getting in to the ABS system", my car could have exploded at any time during the last five years. Sobering stuff, eh?

Nearby was an Emmaus Community so I popped in and took a look around at the furniture store which used to be a consecrated chapel and had some beans on toast in their unconsecrated cafe. If you don't know anything about Emmaus a charity supporting homeless people, I'll give you a general introduction lifted from the Emmaus website.

'The first Emmaus Community was founded in Paris in 1949 by Father Henri-Antoine Groues, better known as the Abbé Pierre, a Catholic priest, MP and former member of the French Resistance during the Second World War. As an MP, he fought to provide homes for those who lived on the streets of Paris'

'Emmaus Communities spread across France, as the Abbé Pierre brought the horrors faced by the poor to the world's attention. One January day in 1954 the Abbé Pierre learnt that the baby of a homeless couple had frozen to death in the night. Some days later he heard that an old woman had died of hypothermia on the streets having been evicted from her home. Angered by these needless deaths, Abbé Pierre sent an open letter to newspapers and made a radio appeal to the nation. It turned Emmaus into a major international charity. The French public responded and gifts and support flooded in. Emmaus Communities opened across France. Abbé Pierre became an international figure and travelled the world spreading the word about Emmaus, causing Communities to be established in mainland Europe, French West Africa, the Far East and South America. Each one retains the ideals of the first Communities - giving people the chance to support themselves and help others.'

All very good and laudable. So, don't get me wrong when I say what I'm about to say. The work of Emmaus in the UK at combatting homelessness and helping people find their feet in life is highly successful. The founder of Emmaus, who we know now as Abbe Pierre, I believe, was a man of heroic virtue who follows in a rich long line of Franciscan Priests who dedicated their energy, life, work, skills, talents and love to the abandoned, the dispossessed and homeless.

Founder of Emmaus, Abbe Pierre

However, after my visit to the Emmaus Community in Portslade, I was struck by a couple of things that run entirely contrary to the spirit of the founder and, more importantly to the very Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Gospel that he embraced and preached with great fervour (click here for a rather good interview with Abbe Pierre).

I talked to one of the 'companions' there, I shaln't give the name. A 'companion' is a volunteer who lives and works in the community. I asked the companion how they were. The companion said 'okay'. I asked how long the companion had been there. The companion said '3 months'. I asked whether they enjoyed the work. The companion said, "Well, it is either this or the streets," which, I thought immediately, was not exactly a glowing endorsement of Emmaus. I found it rather disturbing, since men have been known to have said the same thing about prison.

So, we talked a little and I discovered that Emmaus in the UK require that the 'companions', a name for those who decide to live there, having been referred by hostels or local councils, give up their benefits (JSA/Income Support/DLA etc) in order to live there in a safe community for the vulnerable and homeless. In return, they are provided with accommodation, obviously, a room, a shower, heating and, I think and certainly hope, food.

I asked this particular 'companion' how many hours they worked a week. The companion answered that they work a week of 9am - 5pm, 5 days a week. There is a mixture of tasks, some are drivers, collecting unwanted goods from donors around Brighton, Hove and the surrounding area. Some are working in the kitchen. Some are cleaning, gardening, doing a bit of labouring, furniture restoration and the rest. It is a big house and I'd imagine it needs quite some work on it. The companions all work a 9-5 job and get two days off a week.

"Gosh," I said, "I hope they pay you for working 9am - 5pm, five days a week?"  Afterall, as Catholics, we all know that to defraud the poor, or to deny the labourer his wages is a sin crying out to Heaven for vengeance.
 "Yes," she said, "I receive £38 a week."
I looked at the companion, having done a very quick calculation in my head and said, "That's really not very much money at all."
It was then that the companion said, "I know...but it is either this or the streets."

Stay with me on this one and hear me out. Apparently, 'companions' do receive £49 a week after the first year but for the first year only £38. Now, I understand that in becoming a 'companion' with Emmaus, many homeless men and women find refuge, strength and a great sense of community where once there was none. In many ways it continues to fulfill the mission of its founder.

The great injustice of Emmaus, however, is that the 'companions', all poor, many destitute and homeless, in agreeing to live there and work hard for the community for seemingly between 77p and £1 an hour, make a commitment, of almost Franciscan proportions, to voluntary poverty. Not only do they do this, but many do so, not out of a desire to wed Lady Poverty and live in community, but because they have been referred there by councils and life in inner city hostels, or indeed the street, is utterly intolerable. Emmaus is a way out of a vicious cycle. In other words, some are living there because it is a good and healthy place to be and others are living and working there because they feel they have no other choice. I couldn't help thinking that Emmaus is, in fact, a modern poorhouse, a kind of workhouse for the poor and, in a way, a kind of slavery.

"How many people move on from Emmaus and re-establish themselves in the community?" I asked one of the workers there, a staff member, who, I believe, is paid a standard wage.

"Well, we're not really about 'moving people on'", he answered, "We work together as a community."
'Uh-huh,' I thought, 'You work together as a community but you get paid about £20,000 a year while they work for 77p an hour.'
I wish I said that, but instead I asked, "But some workers here are paid formally, have an annual wage, right?"
"Yes," he said, "Some workers here are paid an annual wage".
"I have a couple of friends who are homeless," I said, "What chance they could be referred here?"
He answered, "We have a long waiting list here, at least 12 people are waiting to get in here. Maybe he could try another Emmaus in the country."

Indeed, their waiting list is long. People are desperate to get out of the hostels hamster wheel that comes from being homeless in Brighton. However, it doesn't look good for those who are waiting to get in to Emmaus, since, once there, few of the homeless actually leave. Given that some staff, as you can see from the screenshot of their 'jobs' section, are on a good salary and the homeless are on 77p - £1 an hour, it struck me that Emmaus are manning something of a workhouse for the poor.

The homeless have been given a purpose there, sure, something we all crave, perhaps even institutionalised there. Many people struggle to live on the 'outside world'. To live in a Community, even if it means working all day and nearly all week long for peanuts, can be quite appealing if you find it hard to cope in wider society.

Unfortunately, however, there appeared to be a blindness among the 'companions' about there existing anything in between being a companion at Emmaus and sleeping in inner city hostels or sleeping rough. The two companions that I talked to seemed to have forgotten entirely about the idea of independent living - like, you know - having a flat or having a flatshare, or building a life outside of Emmaus, but, then again, how easy would it be to save up for a deposit for a flat or a flatshare outside of the Community and live independently, when you receive £38 - £49 a week? I mean, at Emmaus you may have most things paid for, but you'd need that 'pocket money' to buy toiletries, clothes, a bit of food, top up your mobile and all the rest. How would you get out of there once you'd recovered, found your feet and go out and meet the love of your life and settle down with someone or build a relationship with someone, or put roots down in a town and all the rest of the things we take for granted?

After all, if a homeless charity is there to do anything, it is to 'serve first the one who suffers most', as the founder said. One 'companion' said, "It is either this or St Patrick's Nightshelter". St Patrick's is a nightshelter which hit the news locally because the Anglican vicar who founded it and his family appeared to be driving around in Ferraris and were all conveniently trustees of the Lorica St Patrick's Trust, leading some to accuse the vicar who then fled Brighton and its local news reporters, of "tramp-farming".

A workhouse in Victorian Britain

I understand why the 'companion' expressed no desire to leave Emmaus, since his experience of life on the outside world has, I expect, been traumatising, but isn't helping the homeless to regain their strength, confidence, self-esteem and independence in order to live life to the full, in the wider community itself, rather than in a separated community running along the same principles as a workhouse, exactly what a homeless charity should be doing?

One would have thought so, but perhaps not. The great sin of Emmaus, or rather the terrible sin of those who run it, is not just that they get the homeless to work for 77p an hour, but that they refuse to work for the same wage themselves. The paid workers of the community no longer live in solidarity with the poorest, something that the founder, a Franciscan at heart, most certainly did do. Emmaus continue to claim to be running 'communities' across the UK, yet if it is truly a community, then why are some men and women on £15,000 - £37,000 a year or more and some men and women working for less than £1 an hour. Where is the justice in that? There is none - it is a shocking scandal and crime against Justice that Emmaus can any longer even claim to be a charity working for the poorest.

Charlatans! For, as you can see, the screenshot image which headlines this blog post shows that Emmaus, who do indeed take the housing benefits of the homeless who live there for their, ahem, "running costs", are able to pay some of their dedicated staff relatively well. What is the chance of any of the 'companions', the very poor, the vulnerable homeless, getting a job with Emmaus for £25,000 - £37,000 a year? I don't know, but possibly not that good!

That is why I came away from Emmaus rather disturbed and concerned. There is something strange about the Emmaus Community in Portslade. People come to their cafe from around the local, surrounding area. Many of those who come to visit, walk around the gardens, have food and coffee in the cafe and look at some second hand furniture are wealthy - substantially more wealthy than those who are doing the labour. And yet, Emmaus's cafe is an inversion of the Gospel. It is anti-Christ. Perhaps, once the founder of these inspiring movements die (yes, often they are Catholic Priests) it does not take long to be secularised and its mission to be distorted, de-Christianised, worldly, superficial and even usurped by the Devil. After all, the consecrated chapel is now a furniture shop. Even the little grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes and St Bernadette is overgrown with weeds and ivy, left unattended. Abbe Pierre's mission was to serve the poorest, save souls and preach the Gospel.

And yet, there, at Emmaus, the poor serve the rich food and drink, for next to nothing in return. According to Our Blessed Saviour, it is not the calling of the poor to serve the rich for the love of God, as slave masters presumably justified their unjust employment arrangements, but the rich who are called to serve the poor for the love of God. Furthermore, if you are going to set up a charity, a community of people willing to be full-time volunteers in serving the poorest, it really is rather important that that policy goes for all workers - not one policy for the homeless workers and another policy for the other, 'real' workers! Otherwise, it is a con, a fraud, a sham charity that has betrayed its mission and now works not to serve the poor but to defraud the poor of their wages while others live off what rightfully belongs to them! I wonder what the Director of Emmaus UK is paid annually? I'm quite sure it wasn't Abbe Pierre who set up the wage structure!

Once you call yourself a charity, you see, you can get away with just about anything. Just look at Marie Stopes International. They're a charity and they get away with murder.

A Canterbury Tale

Another Powell and Pressburger charmer, A Canterbury Tale (1944) is their follow-up to The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. This ode to England lacks the sharp edge of Blimp and 49th Parallel and stylization of other Archers efforts, but it's still a pleasant journey with an immensely likeable cast of characters.

In war-time England, four very different people find themselves in a small town. Alison (Sheila Sim) is a "land girl" looking for work on a farm; Sergeant Gibbs (Dennis Price) is an organist-turned-soldier on leave; Sergeant Bob Johnson (John Sweet) is a friendly American soldier who got off at the wrong train stop; Thomas Colpepper (Eric Portman) is a stuffy magistrate and amateur historian. They're thrown together when Alison is attacked by the "Glue Man," a local mischief-maker harrassing local girls. They team up to track down the identity of the Glue Man, becoming enraptured by the idyllic countryside and making their way to the ancient Cathedral at Canterbury in the process.

The Archers were usually weak on narrative and A Canterbury Tale is no exception. The daft plot with the "glue man" is pretty thin stuff to hang a two-hour film on; it's to Powell and Pressburger's credit that they wring so much out of it. The real pleasure is spending time with a lovely group of people: the four protagonists are an interesting group of people thrown together by war, each with different motives but finding a great deal in common. The pilgrimage to Canterbury fulfills something for all of them: Colpepper, creating an appreciation for England's greatness, Gibbs's dream to be a church organist, Alison discovering the truth about her boyfriend, Johnson finding his unit (and the truth about his girlfriend). Even when the story flags, these likeable characters keep things afloat, and it's wonderful to see everything come together.

The film espouses a kinder, gentler model of patriotism than the oft-bellicose Hollywood variety. The plot is loosely based on Chaucer but strikes a chord by tying the modern-day protagonists to ancient England: little has changed but the people (and, we might add, technology). As in Blimp, the war is unseen but ever-present, effecting all of the protagonists, who have lost husbands, fiancees, jobs and businesses to it. And yet the Englishmen and women we encounter are steadfast, friendly and determined, united in a common sacrifice and effort. The naive but charming American Bob fits in like a glove; he's a fish out of water who's eager to make friends and explore England. Surely this film's England is no more realistic than a Frank Capra/John Ford take on America, but that makes it no less appealing.

The movie lacks the stylistic flare of P&P's later works, with fairly sparse direction that is nonetheless beautiful. The countryside of Kent is wonderfully captured, and the awe-inspiring Canterbury Cathedral provides a fitting locale for the finale. The biggest technical moment is a "match cut" from medieval falcon to Spitfire, presaging a famous moment in Kubrick's 2001.

Eric Portman (49th Parallel) is fine though his character is arguably the weakest of the leads. Dennis Price (Kind Hearts and Coronets) is solid, and Sheila Sim is endearingly sweet. John Sweet, a real-life GI, is effortlessly charming and likeable; he's not a great actor but doesn't try to be.

A Canterbury Tale is a nice, endearing film that's just pleasant to watch. It's not the Archers' finest hour, but a middling Powell and Pressburger effort is better than most other films.

Be Persistent!

"Lord, I am dust and ashes but allow me, if You will, to be bold with You.

If I can find only ten just Bishops, will You spare us from liturgical innovations and 'Shine Jesus Shine'?

Uh-huh...Okay....Er...One?"

The Big Country

William Wyler's 1958 Western certainly lives up to its title. The Big Country may not be the highest point of the Western genre, but it's certainly one hell of a show, mixing closely observed characters with a gobsmackingly epic scope.

James McKay (Gregory Peck), a former sea captain, goes West, planning to marry Pat Terrill (Carroll Baker), daughter of a big-shot rancher (Charles Bickford). McKay quickly runs afoul of the Hannassays, a gang of hickish farmers led by the bear-like Rufus (Burl Ives) and his carzy son Buck (Chuck Connors), who are feuding with the McKays over the "Big Muddy", a local watering hole. McKay clashes with McKay's foreman Leech (Charlton Heston) and finds his affection for Pat dimming as the rivalry between the two ranches escalates. McKay transfers his affections to Julie (Jean Simmons), a headstrong school teacher who lives astride the Big Muddy, thus finding herself at the center of the conflict. Things come to a head when Buck kidnaps Julie, hoping to marry her, and McKay tries to forestall an all-out war between the two factions.

The Big Country is slow and talky by Western standards, but Wyler is unquestionably the right director for this material. The film is a bit thin on plot but Wyler creates a well-observed cast of characters: outside of Anthony Mann and Sam Peckinpah's better works (The Man From Laramie, The Wild Bunch) few genre entries compare. Despite its near-three hour length and relative lack of action, Wyler never lets things become boring or draggy, stumbling only on occcasion.

The movie complicates a simple story by avoiding cliches. McKay is an atypical protagonist: an Eastern "dude," he's completely out of place in the Old West. Most Westerns would have McKay proving his manhood, but he pointedly refuses to do this: he's more concerned with satisfying himself than the gallery. This attitude is cleverly played out against his love interests: Pat sees McKay as an idealized Western man rather than a dignified but unassuming gentleman; Julie sees him more or less for who he is. The usual triangle is absent, with Pat fading from the story as McKay and Julie fall for each other. Leech's affection for Pat and Buck's for Julie make the situation believably messy; this private war is intensely personal.

The war itself is a nasty business with both sides on an equal moral playing field. The protagonist is nominally with the Terrils, but his would-be employer and family are violent bigots eager to fight the Hannassays. The hickish Hannassays are not undeserving of their reputation but really no worse than their opponents. Rufus is sympathetic, but the trigger-happy Buck pushes him to the brink, in a dynamic similar to the villainous triangle in The Man From Laramie. A mixture of motivations - greed, lust for power, personal hatreds, bigotry - creates a complex situation destined to end in tragedy.

The movie's faults are minor but hard to ignore. McKay and Julie fall for each other rather quickly; this is forgivable because Peck and Simmons have a lot of chemistry and make a nice couple. A lengthy scene between Pat and Julie, spelling out their expectations for McKay, seems overwritten and obvious: Wyler does a good enough job elsewhere, that this needn't be explained in such depth. The conclusion, with Terrill and Rufus settling accounts mano y mano, is doubly unsatisfying: after two-and-a-half hours of build-up, and directly following the impressive duel, it needed to be especially striking, but it falls flat. These flaws don't kill the film, but they do make a potentially great film into a just very good one.

Most impressive is Wyler's direction. The huge, epic sense of scope is amazing, with Franz Planer's widescreen photography bringing out the striking California scenery. Wyler creates innumerable memorable images, using his locations as an epic theater; even talky scenes achieve grandeur against these settings. The arguable highlight is a huge fistfight between McKay and Leech, filmed largely in long-shot, without sound or music, a striking bit of poetic barbarism. Another scene where a defiant Terril rides out to meet his fate, with his gang gradually joining him, is an equally transcendent moment; a fumbling duel, curiously reminiscent of Barry Lyndon, also stands out. Jerome Moross's rousing, epic score screams Western, and adds immeasuribly to the film.

The often-stiff Gregory Peck has never been better, making McKay sympathetic and compelling despite his passivity. Charlton Heston is in fine form as well, playing a far more complex character than his usual rock-jawed, righteous hero. Carroll Baker (Cheyenne Autumn) is mostly pretty window dressing, but Jean Simmons (Spartacus) shines: with her incredible beauty and tough personality, she's like a down-to-earth Audrey Hepburn. Burl Ives (Our Man in Havana) won an Oscar for his larger-than-life part, easily stealing every scene - and getting one of film history's great entrances. Chuck Connors (TV's The Rifleman) and Charles Bickford are secondary bad guys; Alfonso Bedoya (Border Incident) has a small part.

Wyler's next film, Ben-Hur, would be an even larger epic, but much of the deft plotting and characterization would be lost amidst the huge photography, set-pieces and religious deux es machina. Despite its faults, The Big Country is a much better example of the epic genre, and is a solid Western as well.

A Rough Deal for Rough Sleepers

Paul is a regular recipient of soup and sandwiches on the St Mary Magdalen Soup Run. He's been in Brighton for 6 months having left Nottingham and is concerned about what he will do when winter comes.

I managed to talk with him on Sunday after Mass at St Mary Magdalen Church, having recognised him from the Soup Run. He sleeps at various points along the seafront of Brighton, in a tent with another homeless man.

We talked at length about homelessness and in particular the efforts, or lack thereof, of the Council to provide assistance to them. Paul's experience of the services offered by the Council have been less than satisfactory.

Paul says, "The big problems I am facing at the moment in my dealings with the Council is the local connection policy and in particular I have problems with the Rough Sleepers Team."

The Rough Sleepers Team's full name is the Rough Sleepers, Street Services & Relocation Team (RSSSRT). They do attempt to facilitate hostel accommodation and housing to rough sleepers, but for those without a 'local connection' to Brighton, a great deal of pressure is placed on those rough sleepers to 'relocate'. But what does this mean in reality?

Paul says, "I know several people in Brighton who have taken up the offer to 'relocate' only to return to the surprise and bemusement of the Rough Sleepers Team. What they basically do is buy you a one way ticket to Sheffield, or Portsmouth or wherever you are come from. Then that person is just expected to go and establish himself somewhere else with little or no assistance. It's ridiculous. Of course they come back here. They've got nobody where they came from. That's why they left. At least here there is the sea and they've made a few friends."

Indeed. Given that many of the homeless in Brighton have psychological problems and numerous issues, it is unsurprising that they are unable to put down roots where they are sent. Impoverished, they are sent away to a town where they may no longer have a connection with anybody. Nobody is facilitating housing for them at the other end, nobody is supporting them there either and there will be a wait for them to obtain benefits and who is to say that the housing crisis will be much better there?

Paul has no intention of leaving Brighton to go back to Nottingham and, indeed, why should he? Brighton is a welcoming town to those with money. Brighton is literally bending over backwards to make itself appealing to a certain kind of individual; wealthy, independent, perhaps unattached, employed, maybe even purchasing a second home by the sea. These people aren't asked to 'relocate', are they?

Paul talked about Brighton Housing Trust (BHT). I told him that I expected that they were a little 'too close' to the Council and that I had seen them talking with homeless men and women, giving them train tickets and getting as much personal information as they could from them. I was shocked to hear that Paul, due to his refusal to leave Brighton, has actually been excluded from the services offered by First Base, BHT's homeless service in the Montpelier part of town.

"I was involved in a project there, I was able to eat there, have a cup of tea, use their shower, use the computer and be involved with what was going on there. Then, after they talked with me about what my 'plans' were and I told them I didn't want to go to Sheffield or wherever they decided I should go, they excluded me totally. I can't use their services now. I can't have a shower there now. I didn't do anything wrong, I was just honest and told them that I'd really like to live in Brighton and establish myself here."

So, it appears that even a charity in Brighton purporting to be on the side of the homeless are, in fact, operating the same policy which stigmatises the homeless that the Council do. A half an hour walk around Brighton, not even taking into consideration the numerous empty properties you will see boarded up, many under Council supervision, will tell you there are plenty of properties 'to let'. If Paul had enough money to raise a deposit for a studio flat or one bed flat then Brighton would not be problematic for him and he would not be sleeping rough. If Paul were a 'professional' he'd be very welcome in Brighton. Unfortunately, he has not got the funds to do that. He isn't a drinker and he is not drug dependent, so he isn't spending his money on that. His JSA/Income Support money helps him to survive. Obviously, getting a job with no fixed address is impossible, so, he finds himself where he is, sleeping in a tent and being woken up at 6 am, sometimes earlier, being harrassed and asked to move on by the RSSSRT who keep asking him, "What are you still doing here?"

That is a question to which Paul replies, "Well, why should I not be here?" He is right. Freedom of movement, freedom itself really depends upon individuals being allowed to go where they want, when they want, to whichever town they choose. That freedom, to move, to locate, to ramble or to establish oneself in another city is not one that should be removed from anyone - and certainly not the homeless - and, what is more, should not be dependent on a person's personal finances alone. We cannot have freedom of movement for one class of people and internal deportation for another who are stigmatised.

So, the question is, why does the Council in Brighton and Hove operate a Rough Sleepers Team with an explicit internal deportation scheme for those who arrive here, hoping to live in the 'city by the sea'? The suspicion has to be that the Council is concerned not about homelessness nor for the welfare of rough sleepers, but the image of the city, the tourism trade and the fact that homelessness (and it is absolutely rife, have no doubt) in Brighton and Hove simply does not look good.

The Council's policy towards the homeless is itself contradictory. They claim there are only seven people sleeping rough. This is patently untrue and I know it because the Soup Run today fed 31 people by the peace statue alone. Well over half of these men and women are sleeping rough. Then, the Council claim that the 'local connection' policy is in operation because Brighton is 'full' and there is a crisis in housing so people must be sent back from whence they claim. Yet, surely, if there are really only 7 people sleeping rough in Brighton, putting up these 7 people should not be too problematic. There are properties for rent everywhere.

The Council perpetuate a 'crisis' situation in order to operate a policy which persecutes the homeless, quite deliberately. Not only that, but this Council wastes hundreds of thousands of pounds a year paying their 'rough sleepers team'.

If you think about it, just for a moment, there must be a team of around 20 'rough sleepers team members' on a salary of around £15,000 to £18,000 a year, at least. That's £300,000. Then, add to that figure the amount paid to the admin team in the 'rough sleepers' department. Let's say there are 10 of them in that department on £15,000 a year. That's comes to an annual cost of...

£450,000.

Let's say there are 40 people sleeping rough in Brighton, which, I know, is a low estimate. How much would it cost to raise a deposit of £1000 for these 40 people and put them in one bed flats?

The answer is...

£40,000.

Perhaps something for David Cameron and his 'Big Society' to think about.

Kapo

Gillo Pontecorvo's take on the Holocaust is, not surprisingly, grim, dark and depressing. Still not in the same league as The Battle of Algiers (but what is?), it's a fascinating study of guilt, collaboration and human atrocity.

Edith (Susan Strasburg) is a Jewish girl in Nazi-occupied France who comes home to find her family being arrested, and she is forced to join them. Arriving at a death camp, she watches her parents gassed, and with the help of a doctor assumes the identity of Nicole, a recently-deceased, now-Jewish criminal. Edith goes to a labor camp and gradually adapts to its cruelties: she becomes a plaything of camp guards, and works her way up to Kapo (camp guard). However, the death of her friend Terese (Emmanuelle Riva) and the arrival of Russian POWs - including Sascha (Laurent Terzieff), whom she falls in love with - convinces Edith to help her fellow inmates escape.

Kapo is more subtle than most Holocaust films, which granted isn't saying a lot. Explicit atrocities are mostly hinted at, but the film retains a horrible power throughout, with Pontecorvo's sparse but powerful direction driving the story. Until the bloody conclusion, most atrocities are individual: the hanging of a woman for attempted sabotage, and Terese's being forced to translate the commandant's speech, is arguably the high-point of the film. The only SS man we get to know is Karl (Gianni Garko), a likeable if blindly patriotic young man who romances Edith; guilt for the Holocaust is made starkly collective, rather than the whims of a psychotic camp leader.

Another unique aspect of Kapo is its morally ambiguous portrayal of the inmates. Unlike Schindler's List (certainly a fine film in its own way), Edith and her camp mates are not virtuous victims but degraded people. They are reduced to an animal state, squabbling constantly, gaining petty revenges against each other, becoming comfort women for promises of food and shelter, and finally murdering the SS's beloved cat. Terese becomes an interpreter for its "special privileges" but ultimately can't stand the guilt and shame involved; Edith's metamorphosis into a cold-blooded collaborator is chillingly believable, staunched only by dramatic events.

The movie effectively explores why a Jewish girl would agree to oppress her own people: In an environment where death is so casual and certain, collaboration is the only option. In effect, the victims are made part of the collective guilt, making an already-murky situation indecipherable: when an SS guard is more likeable than most of the inmates, cliches of bad Nazis and good Jews don't apply. Even something as straightforward as the Holocaust isn't morally black-and-white, Pontecorvo shows.

The movie's powerful, inventive first half dips back towards convention in the second half, as Edith gropes her way back towards virtue. The movie avoids good-and-evil classifications in the early sections, but certainly becomes more clear-cut later. Personally, I would have found it more powerful (and certainly more original) if Edith had remained on her path to evil. That said, one can't really deny the power of the ending, the wonderfully-staged prison break and Edith's final words.

Susan Strasburg gives a marvellous performance. Early on she's given a close haircut reminiscent of Renee Falconetti in The Passion of Joan of Arc, but Edith is no martyr, merely a girl trying desperately to stay alive, and her shift from innocent victim to complicit camp guard is chillingly credible. The movie does not make Nicole overly sympathetic, even in the early scenes; it's her change of heart that renders her such, and Pontecorvo and Strasburg render this beautifully.

Other performances are equally fine. Gianni Garko (later a major Spaghetti Western star) does a fine job at making Karl a decent guy, without veering into "good German" cliches. Emmanuelle Riva is excellent as Terese, whose collaboration becomes personally unbearable.

Kapo is one of the best fictional films made on the Holocaust. Even if it resorts to convention towards the end, it's still far more complex and ambiguous than most other films on the topic, and remains a starkly powerful work.

Some Thoughts on Abortion and the Pro-Life Movement

On Tuesday I attended a pro-life vigil outside Wiston's Clinic. The vigil passed off peacefully. The police had been alerted by the organiser of the display and came to see us, telling us that it was all okay and above board and that they wouldn't be bothering us.

It is the first time I have ever stood outside an abortion clinic bearing witness to the victims of abortion. As the day progressed, it became more and more obvious that the victims of abortion included the women who entered in those clinic doors.

I must say that the pro-life movement has a fine line to tread. We held a large banner showing what an abortion at 8 weeks actually looks like, and obviously, it looks as horrific as it is. It is the terrible truth about abortion shown in its true graphic light. I couldn't help thinking, though, that although the image itself is powerful, thought-provoking and hard-hitting, that it would serve better to be displayed on the other side of the building, where cars lined the streets at the traffic lights on the Dyke Road intersection.

A man early on in the day approached us and said, "Why are you here with that image? My girlfriend is making a difficult decision here today? She's had to enter by another access point to avoid you." I replied that it was not a 'difficult' decision but a terrible one and as he went past us asked whether he would like to talk about it. Of course, he didn't. While I did not have much sympathy for his cause, it became more obvious as the day progressed that bearing an image of the truth about abortion at the entrance to an abortion gate does not make the pro-life vigil approachable. People already believe that the pro-life lobby is 'militant' and such imagery conjures up the kind of anger within people that 'anti-vivisectionist' people inspire because all they care about is animals.

In other words, the image may be true, but, if someone really had doubts about whether they wanted to go ahead with an abortion, would they really want to talk about it with you, if you are standing there holding that image? It has, according to the group, turned away some people in the past, but my overall feeling is that the pro-life movement needs to be open hearted and open to those who are going in to the clinic. They have already made up their minds. If there is any way their minds will change, you have to be accessible and approachable.

The image is helpful in itself in raising awareness more generally, say on the other side of the road, so that the passing general public can see the horror and, presumably, either agree or be very offended by it. It serves to shame the abortion clinic and all the so called 'doctors' and nurses who work there and cuts through the lies they tell, their deceit as they try to deny the humanity of the unborn child.

Later on in the day, the man came out of the clinic with his girlfriend. They sat near the door, the woman too scared or ashamed, I guess, to come out the entrance where the pro-life vigil were stood. There they sat, the woman, clearly terribly traumatised by what had taken place within those walls, realising what she had allowed them to do, realising the full gravity of what had taken place, and wept into her boyfriends arms. God alone knows what was going on in their lives. It was clear that what had taken place there on Tuesday would remain with her for the rest of her life.

I also saw another young woman, on her own, walk out of the clinic in tears. Abortion is murder, yes, but these women are consistently lied to by the British Pregnancy Advice Service about what abortion is, about its safety and its effects. The effects of abortion are devastating. Perhaps the most shocking thing I saw was a 15/16 year old girl being frog-marched into the clinic by her own mother. Horrendous.

The best pro-life vigil would be one in which those who are standing outside are largely women. Secondly, those who know best about the tragedy of abortion are those women who have had abortions and regretted it deeply. This is, I know, an issue that affects most closely the unborn child whose life is destroyed, but it is a women's issue. If women are going to be persuaded by anyone that the unborn child is a human life, is a baby, a baby they will regret having 'terminated', then it is by other women who now mourn the life that was once within them. These are the ones who have the experience of abortion at first hand. Their witness will convince people.

The other great weakness of the pro-life movement, or at least the one I encountered on Tuesday is a presentation of alternatives to abortion. Just saying, "This is terrible!" does not offer women an alternative to abortion. Where are the leaflets providing information to charities and organisations who can help women, like the Good Counsel Network and the Life UK charity, who provide practical assistance to those in distress?

Overall, however, a visible presence, however poorly equipped to deal with those coming in, are, at least, a Christian witness to the rights of the unborn on whose behalf few are fighting.  Women during an abortion procedure, are unable to see the 'contents of the womb', the unborn baby, the foetus, the human being who dies at the hands of the 'doctor'. The doctors and nurses see it! They don't wear blindfolds. The doctors and nurses know that this is a life. They know that this is a human being. They know that this is a baby and they should not kill it. The doctors do not allow the 'patients' to see what has taken place, because it is a 'surgical procedure'. These doctors continue to murder callously, every day, the babies of vulnerable women in crisis. This song, that I wrote a couple of years ago, is for those doctors. To procure an abortion is a terrible sin, as we know, but the guilt of the doctors who destroy the lives of innocent human beings and their mothers, is far, far greater. Murderers!

A Guide to Penitential Gardening

Someone clever once said you are never so close to God as when gardening. This is, of course, patently untrue, because we are closest to God when we receive Him in Holy Communion. Flippin' Protestants!

Still, how much closer are we to God when suffering, especially when we suffer willingly for the sake of the God who loved us unto death, even death on a Cross? We can suffer gladly in reparation for our sins, in union with Christ Crucified and offer up these pains for the conversion of sinners, the Church Suffering in Purgatory and perhaps most importantly of all, in these times when a Papal Visit to the UK is starting to resemble a drive in Helmund Province, the liberty and exaltation of our Holy Mother, the Church.

Gardening is a perfect way to mortify the flesh. Are you finding it hard to overcome your fragile, fallen, human nature? Well, aren't we all, but, see, help is at hand. Let nature conquer nature! Let nature herself overpower you! Gardening, if done totally recklessly and in a spirit of outright rebellion to health and safety procedures, will mortify you quicker than you can ask, "So, what really happens at these Opus Dei meetings, then?"

1. Berberis: The sworn enemy of human skin. A shrub that causes even the most hardened and skilled burglar to admit defeat and say, "Ouch...I'm out of here, shall we try number 11?" Just walk up and brush yourself against it at first. Then, once you're getting used to it, climb up a ladder and throw yourself onto the prickliest bush this side of the Grand Canyon.

2. And that't it. Pruning Berberis is a nightmare! If you want self-flaggelation that stuff will do the job in half an hour. Oh, I did disturb a wasps nest last week and found myself running about the garden like a man fleeing a disturbed wasps' nest would. Aaaaargggh! It's a wasps nest! Ruuuuunnn! This evening I passed a lady in the car who I met at the Windmill last year. She's a protestant lady. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, she couldn't remember our having met and my having sat in her lounge debating Pentecostalism and Catholicism with her. I stopped in the car with a couple of friends as she was sitting on a park bench having a drink and asked if she'd like to come to the pro-life vigil tomorrow outside Wistons and whether she had anything she wanted to donate to the Building Fund Car Boot Sale.

She said, "Who was the first person to see Jesus? Mary Magdalen."
I said, "Well, no, the first person to see Jesus was the Virgin Mary, after he was born. Oh, you mean after the Resurrection."
She said, "Why would I want to hassle women at an abortion clinic?"
I said, "Well, its less hassling people and more bearing silent witness to the rights of the unborn to live."
So she said, "Well, I'm pro-choice. I believe in a woman's right to choose."
So I said, "What about the unborn child's right to live?"
She said, "What about women who've been raped."
So I said, "Well, that is not the fault of the unborn child."
So she said, "It's not the fault of the woman either..."

So, the lady rebuked me and said, fixing me with her eyes through her shades, something along the lines of, "My relationship with Jesus Christ goes much deeper than that. Do you know how I can tell a Christian? It's because they're smiling all the time. Whereas when I began to talk to you your face literally fell and a black cloud came over your head and it seemed you were full of hatred."

Clearly, I was unable to contain my horror. I don't think I hated her so much as felt outraged by someone professing to believe in Our Lord expressing views so brazenly against what mainstream Christians believe.  Okay, perhaps my thoughts were indeed sins against Charity. Mea culpa.

So I said, "Well, it's not that. It's just that I was shocked that you were a Christian who did not believe in the rights of the unborn to live."
She said, "Well, I don't believe a lot of things Christians believe."
So I said, "Okay, well the main reason we stopped was to ask if you wanted to come to the pro-life vigil and whether you had anything you wanted to donate to the Car Boot Sale for the Restoration Fund, since you had already given my friend something to sell." Indeed, she had, it was a Tomy baby cot protector.
She said, "No, I only gave him that because I thought he could get some money for it."
I said, "Okay, well we've got to go, bye."
So she said, "Bye, see you in Heaven...maybe!"
I turned around and said, "God bless."

Aaaarggh! It's a wasp's nest! Ruuuuunnn!

You see. The lesson is that you just can't assume that just because someone told you they are a Christian, that they will be pro-life and that our Charity must be sincere so that we don't give Protestants reason to doubt our faith. Still, it is a worry when even Pentecostals don't want to bear witness to the rights of the unborn. I thought we had some things in common!

Bend of the River

Bend of the River (1952) is a fairly middling effort by Anthony Mann standards, which means it's still a pretty solid Western. His second collaboration with James Stewart, it gets few points for originality but succeeds on its own terms as a fine adventure tale.

Gunslinger Glyn McLyntock (James Stewart) is escorting an Oregon-bound wagon train when he comes across Emerson Cole (Arthur Kennedy) being lynched by a band of vigilantes. Glyn saves Cole and the two strike up a friendship, though they part ways when they arrive in Portland. Glyn returns to Portland after his pioneers fail to receive a shipment of food, finding that Cole is set up as a gambler, with pretty farmer's daughter Laura (Julia Adams) as his girl. Glyn, Cole and friendly cardsharp Trey (Rock Hudson) forcibly commendeer the supplies, but run into trouble from a crooked businessman's (Howard Petrie) gang of thugs and Glyn's own mutinous followers - including Cole.

Bend of the River was penned by Borden Chase, who also wrote Howard Hawks's Red River (1948), and it shares many similarities with the Hawks film. Some are generalities to be expected in a wagon train film; other scenes are lifted almost intact (the Indian fight early on, the mutiny). A Fordian element about building a new town in the wilderness is also integrated into the film. The most original element is the McLyntock-Cole dynamic, two "men with a past" who prove poles apart morally. The downside to this, however, is some corny moralizing about "bad apples" and changing a man's nature that Mann expresses only in the most obvious terms.

Despite this, Mann keeps things interesting with well-drawn lead characters, plenty of plot twists and a lot of action, and in fairness the film hangs together much better than Red River, with a climax that's actually cathartic. If the movie is closer to the all-action Winchester '73 than Mann's more sharply-drawn later films, this isn't a bad thing. His later (and superior) The Far Country (1954) would revisit some of the plot elements here, but this is a good trial run, and a fine movie in its own right.

As expected in a Mann film, the scenery is the high-point: Oregon's Mount Hood provides a gorgeous backdrop to most of the action, and Irving Glassberg's colorful cinematography makes the film a visual treat. The movie has some splendid action scenes, particularly the running gun battle through the saloons and streets of Portland, and the final fight between Glyn and Cole.

James Stewart is dependably James Stewart, with the usual Mann-infused edge of neuroses and violence. Arthur Kennedy gets the meatiest role: depth-wise, Emerson Cole isn't a patch on The Man From Laramie's Vic, but Kennedy excells at making Cole likeable yet subtly devious. Julia Adams and Rock Hudson, however, are shafted with worthless parts, and Jay C. Flippen is burdened with one too many speeches about bad apples. There's also a small role for Stepin' Fetchit, who's okay but seems out of place, and Mann regulars Harry Morgan and Royal Dano put in appearances.

Bend of the River is far from Mann's best work, and aside from The Naked Spur probably his weakest collaboration with Stewart. That said, it's still a solid Western with a lot to commend it.

State Cover Up of Child Abuse?

 Courtesy of Daily Mail Online...

'Disturbing' secret manual reveals brutal methods used on youths held in child prisons

A government manual instructing prison staff on how to inflict pain on teenage inmates was today labelled 'state authorised child abuse'.

The Ministry of Justice was forced to release details of its approved 'restraint and (Was it like some kind of a journalistic headlock, do you think?) self-defence techniques' for children in secure training centres after a lengthy freedom of information battle.

The secret manual, Physical Control In Care, authorises staff to 'use an inverted knuckle into the trainee's sternum and drive inward and upward.' It adds: 'Continue to carry alternate elbow strikes to the young person's ribs until a release is achieved.'

The document, written in 2005 but classified as secret, also tells staff to 'drive straight fingers into the young person's face, and then quickly drive the straightened fingers of the same hand downwards into the young person's groin area.'

Instructions to staff warn that the techniques risk giving children a 'fracture to the skull' and 'temporary or permanent blindness caused by rupture to eyeball or detached retina'. The guidance, designed to cope with unruly children, also acknowledges that the measures could cause asphyxia.


One passage, explaining how to administer a head-hold on children, adds that 'if breathing is compromised the situation ceases to be a restraint and becomes a medical emergency'. Carolyne Willow, national co-ordinator of the Children's Rights Alliance for England, said: 'The manual is deeply disturbing and stands as state authorisation of institutionalised child abuse. What made former ministers believe that children as young as 12 could get so out of control so often that staff should be taught how to ram their knuckles into their rib cages? Would we allow paediatricians, teachers or children's home staff to be trained in how to deliberately hurt and humiliate children?'

The campaign for publication began following the deaths of Gareth Myatt and Adam Rickwood. Gareth, 15, died while being held down by three staff at Rainsbrook Secure Training Centre in Warwickshire. he choked on his own vomit and died. In the same year, 2004, 14-year-old Adam, from Burnley, hanged himself at the Hassockfield Secure Training Centre in County Durham.

Phillip Noyes, director of strategy and development at the NSPCC, said: 'These shocking revelations graphically illustrate the cruel and degrading violence inflicted at times on children in custody. 'On occasions these restraint techniques have resulted in children suffering broken arms, noses, wrists and fingers. Painful restraint is a clear breach of children's human rights against some of the most vulnerable youngsters in society and does not have a place in decent society.'

A Ministry of Justice spokesman said the techniques were used 'very infrequently'. She added: 'For young people under 18, the use of restraint is a last resort. But where young people's behaviour puts themselves or others at serious risk, staff need to be able to intervene effectively, to protect the safety of all involved.'

"We only stab inmates in the eyes with our fingers when we really have to." What a surprise. And there were we all thinking that the Catholic Church had the monopoly on brutality, abuse and woeful neglect of the young and vulnerable. Of course, there's no sexual abuse in State care homes and prisons either, its only Catholic Priests that do that, isn't it? 

Important Women in the Church

There are so many aspects to the 'women priests' argument that are at odds with the Church that it is difficult to know where to begin. Theologically speaking, on so many grounds, those who seek a change in Church teaching on this subject (or indeed any subject) are all at sea.

It strikes me that those who campaign for 'women priests' in the Church really misunderstand what the Church understands by 'vocation', as well as the Church's mission as a whole. St Therese of Lisieux joyfully exclaimed that she had found her vocation within the Church. She was, as the large majority of Catholics know, a nun. Surely, anyone who has become a nun, one would have thought, has already discovered their vocation? However, St Therese, because of her great sanctity and profound friendship with Our Lord, suggests that she only discovered her true vocation after she had made her profession to enter a convent. Her vocation was to be 'Love in the Heart of the Church'. She wrote...

"O Jesus, my love, at last I have found my calling: my call is love. Certainly I have found my place in the Church, and you gave me that very place, my God. In the heart of the Church, my mother, I will be love, and thus I will be all things, as my desire finds its direction." 

She didn't say, "O my God. Make them change the rules so I can be a Priest. I can't bear this nun lark!"

The Church, by virtue of Her Holy Tradition and the Sacramental nature of Ordination, the Sacrament having been given Her by Her Founder, Our Lord Jesus Christ, cannot alter Her position on the requirement for Priests to be male. Not only this, but not even every male is considered to be suitable for the Priesthood. I mean, if all of the men who had been told explicitly that their spiritual directors believed that they did not have a vocation to the Priesthood and all of these men formed an alliance called, 'Men Who Wanted to Be Priests But Who Were Told, "You Do Not Have a Vocation to the Priesthood, Try Something Else", Priests Now!' then they would still not be able to become Priests since it would be abundently clear these men have a problem with Obedience.

That is not to say that women and indeed men, do not have a 'priestly' or 'apostolic' mission in the Church and to the World. Every Catholic is really called upon to defend the Church, to proclaim the Gospel and to evangelise by word and deed. St Therese of Lisieux certainly saw her role as missionary, priestly even, but with childlike simplicity and humility understood that her expression of Christ's saving love was different to a Priest's expression of Christ's saving love. A mother's expression of Christ's saving love is different to that of a Priest or a nun as is that of a husband's. Rest assured, however, that Heaven has little regard for human status and mothers, fathers, nuns, single people, Bishops, Priests and the Pope are highly esteemed and loved by God!

Becoming a Priest, is not like becoming a youth worker, or a journalist, a nurse, a doctor or an accountant. It is a Vocation to serve Christ in a special way, to be Alter Christus, 'another Christ', not merely to strive to imitate Him, but to be Him sacramentally. A Priest may or may not have sins many and large, but, regardless, it is Christ who acts through the Priest at the Consecration of the Bread and Wine, Who transforms these species into His Body and Blood. It is Christ Who absolves, through His Priest, the sins of the Faithful in Confession. It is Christ Who, in Baptism, acts through the Priest, bringing a human being into the life of the Trinity, Who bestows Sacramental Grace upon those adopted into the Family of God.

There can be no understanding of the role of women in the Church without recalling the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a woman so very highly esteemed by God and honoured above all women ever before and ever to come in human history, that she was spared the stain of Original Sin, having been conceived immaculately and bore the very Son of God Himself in her womb.

There will never be a woman so important in the Church as she. She is so important that we pray to her every Mass. She is so important that we are encouraged to pray to her very regularly indeed, to intercede on our behalf to her Divine Son. She is a model for all not by virtue of what she did, but who she was and is now before the Throne of God. None shall ever be so close to God as she. Look, here she is, literally bestowing the Church and the World with Grace because she is the Mother of God!

I mean, can you imagine being a woman, or indeed man, so important that everyday people get up in the morning and pray to you? St Therese of Lisieux knows how that feels, St Anthony of Padua knows how that feels and the Blessed Virgin Mary definintely knows how that feels...

St Francis of Assisi didn't even think himself worthy of becoming a Priest. He was a man, he was exceedingly holy, he was very humble and let's face it would have made a wonderful Priest, but he entrusted himself to Our Lord Jesus Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary and allowed Heaven to do the rest.

No matter what heretical authors say, St Mary Magdalen was not a priestess, nor was she Our Saviour's secret lover or wife. Today's Gospel recounts how she sat at Our Lord's feet and just listened to Him. One can imagine she did that a lot, clinging on His every word that left His Sacred Heart and was delivered by His Sacred Tongue. Her part, that of a contemplative, was 'not to be taken from her'.

All the Saints and Martyrs tell us something about God, but their lives tell us that if you want to be important, ask to be delivered from that desire. I'm sure Blessed Mother Teresa said exactly that. Be close to Our Lord Jesus Christ and His Mother, be loyal to your mother, the Church, pray, seek the Face of God, love God and your neighbour intensely and maybe, just maybe, one day, you will be a very important person indeed.

The Odessa File

Frederick Forsyth's intricate, well-plotted thrillers have proven attractive to film makers, and surprisingly, most of the adaptations have been successful. Fred Zinnemann's The Day of the Jackal (1973) is an unusually faithful screen adaptation, resulting in a brilliant film that nearly equals the book. The Dogs of War (1980) took significant liberties with the source material, but still produced a highly-entertaining movie. (Granted, I have yet to see The Fourth Protocol (1987).)

Which brings us to The Odessa File (1974), one of a string of Nazi refugee films from the '70s (Marathon Man, The Boys From Brazil). Ronald Neame's serviceable adaptation of Forsyth's second novel has the advantage - and disadvantage - of being based on a not-that-great book, but the screen version only accentuates the novel's flaws while adding new ones.

West Germany, 1963. Journalist Peter Miller (Jon Voight) comes across the diary of a dead Jew, Solomon Tauber, who committed suicide. Miller finds that Tauber had been interned in Riga Concentration Camp during World War II, under the brutal control of SS Captain Eduard Roschman (Maximilian Schell). Miller's search for Roschman brings him to the attention of Israeli spies, who want him to infiltrate ODESSA - a clandestine organization of ex-SS officers - and sabotage their involvement in Egypt's rocket program. Unfortunately, ODESSA quickly sees through Miller's disguise and targets him for elimination.

The Odessa File's intriguing premise is largely unrealized. Some of the fault is Forsyth's, for wedding borderline-superfluous elements (the Israeli-Egyptian subplot, Miller's annoyingly-conventional motivation) to an interesting main story. Neame and screenwriters Kenneth Ross (who scripted Jackal) and George Markstein, however, also share part of the blame. The novel could well have been improved upon, but the film's changes serve merely to remove the story's edges, resulting in a wholly conventional thriller with few surprises and little imagination.

Neame amps up the action and violence, inserting and rearranging scenes to little positive benefit. Miller goes from an intrepid reporter to an unlikely action hero, a reasonable-enough route; more objectionable is reducing his motivation to a personal vendetta. Miller's naggy girlfriend (the pretty Mary Tamm) has a lot of screen time but little to do; a menacing assassin is easily disposed-of. The already tacked-on subplot of ODESSA scientists helping Nasser's rocket program in Egypt, is even more superfluous in the film, scarcely mentioned after the pre-credits scene. Dramatic economy is something this film sorely lacks.

The climax highlights a major issue. Miller and Rouschman's meeting is good enough, but lacks the visceral anger - and unconventional conclusion - of Forsyth's equivalent scene; it's an all-too-typical action finale. Miller's eloquent anti-Nazi speech is excised, bringing a major issue into a sharp relief: the film isn't interested, as Forsyth was, in exploring post-war Germany's ambivalence towards Nazism; it merely wants to use the Nazis as a colorful backdrop. On one level, this is fair enough - not every movie can be deeply political - but in so doing, it neuters one of the things Forsyth did get right, removing depth and imagination for predictable drama.

Neame's direction is competent visually, but on top of its other faults, the film's pace is slow and often disjointed. Some scenes are staged with power, particularly the Holocaust flashbacks, but the movie is often static and only fitfully gripping. Having Andrew Lloyd Webber (!) score is another mistake; his very funky, '70s-sounding score often clashes with the tense and serious atmosphere - particularly an ill-advised Christmas theme song (!?!) sung by Perry Como.

Jon Voight does well, making Miller a credible and compelling protagonist. Maximilian Schell (Cross of Iron) is excellent in what amounts to an extended cameo. Mary Tamm is pretty but ill-used; Maria Schell is excellent in her small part. Derek Jacobi (Day of the Jackal) and Noel Willman (Doctor Zhivago) also feature.

Ultimately, The Odessa File is a major disappointment. The book is no literary masterpiece but has virtues and depth that the film lacks; the result is a bland, by-the-numbers thriller, especially weak compared to other Forsyth adaptations.

Pro-Life Display Outside Wistons Clinic

Callings all people in Brighton.

I have received an email from the local SPUC group.

'I wanted to make you aware of a display we are planning to do next Tuesday outside Wistons "clinic". Would you be interested in joining us at some point in the day? We would like to stay as long as we can but need more people to help hold banners. We are aware of one child being led to the slaughter that day but suspect there are more.'

If you are a Brightonian who would like to be present at the display and vigil outside Wiston's Abortuary on Dyke Road in Brighton, please contact Andy at andy@abort67.co.uk.

Andy has asked that I draw your attention to the Abort 67 website, but be prepared for some 'graphic' images which you may find very disturbing and profoundly distressing.

More information to come as soon as I get it.

If you cannot make it to the display...pray!

"This Time Next Year..."

I discovered with great joy yesterday that the Open Market off London Road is running car boot sales every Saturday 8am - 3pm throughout July and possibly every Wednesday in August.

I managed to cram a load of tat (remember Gerald Ratner's big mistake?) from the garage of St Mary Magdalen's today into my car and flog some. It's really incredible what crap people will buy if its a bargain!

Someone offered to buy my car. I said £5,000 minimum. He took my number! If I got that I'd get a half-decent van and start doing this buying/selling scam bigtime. We didn't do half-badly, not that great, but a weekly thing would be a regular source of income for the Building Fund. Who knows, maybe I can begin collecting stuff and make some money myself.

I do love a good car boot sale. Friends have been encouraging me to go to auctions and sell stuff to try and make a living. I've also got the pickles and chutney recipe book waiting if I should get a regular stall somewhere. Among other items, I sold some nice statues of Our Lady and one of St Therese of Lisieux so interest in the Faith is still alive in Brighton. I've no proof they were blessed so I don't think its simony...

Mario, a car boot trader next to me bought the statue of St Therese and told me that his mother, when alive, was visited by St Therese who he said was instrumental at various 'pivotal' points in her life. I remember seeing 'La Vie En Rose', the life story of Edith Piaf and being struck by her devotion to the Little Flower who, according to the film at any rate, appeared promising her protection to her and cured her of blindness when she was very little. He said he'd just started doing car boot sales and it had become already, 'like another religion' for him. I think trading can be a bit like that! Very addictive!

My friend George says he is into the idea as well, going to auctions and the like and getting a van and eventually getting a shop and restoring furniture and musical instruments and the like. Say a prayer for a chap called Ben, (a great blues guitarist, hope you see him in action soon) who I saw on the way home. He got badly beaten up the other week and has stitches. He was sleeping rough for three weeks having got kicked out of YMCA for being 'aggressive'.

I've been to the YMCA before and seen their 'banned' list behind the counter and its very long. I don't understand it. Surely, if you are in the 'business' of running a homeless hostel for alcohol and drug addicts you must be able to handle 'difficult' people! You can't just kick them out every time they lose their rag and leave them on the streets for 3 weeks, with mental health problems and expect everything to be okay for them! Ben said that if all the drug addicts and alcohol addicts suddenly got clean and sorted their lives out all the people who work at YMCA would be out of a job. There is a need for a hostel in Brighton that, having taken the housing benefits cheques from the Government, actually makes an effort to substantially support and help society's most vulnerable, rather than just using them for the funding and then spitting them out...

Anyway, to finish this post, I'd like to point you in the direction of a contributer of The Tablet and lecturer at Roehampton University in Theology who needs some Veritate in Caritas. I expect most people who browse this blog will have already done their solemn duty and given her a good denouncing already in her comments box, having seen Fr Ray Blake's post.

What fascinates and irritates me is that you get some very learned, very clever, highly educated people in this World who either are Catholic or become Catholic, having 'professed' that they believe that all that the Church teaches is true, but who then become obsessed with sucking the Love, Truth and Life out of the Church like bloodthirsty parasites, by constantly demanding that the Church be conformed to their personal ideas of what the Church should be like and demanding that their 'voice be heard'.

Then, on the other hand, you get people in the World who are simple-hearted and humble who just accept that the Church is Holy and cannot err in Faith and Morals and those people are then considered as dumb, stupid and contemptable because they accept what has been revealed by God to His Church. What was it Our Lord said about 'becoming like little children'? Why do these 'theologians' not take Christ at His word! All that education, all that theology and still no closer to the Truth! These heretics always want their voice to be heard, but rarely, it appears will they actually listen to Our Lord or want His Voice to be heard, nor seemingly, that of His Vicar on Earth, currently Pope Benedict XVI, now gloriously reigning.