Inception

Watching Inception (2010) is like being bludgeoned to death with an ice mallet. In sadly predictable fashion, Christopher Nolan takes the film from an interesting beginning to a painfully convoluted and unsatisfying finish. The result is a film that thinks it's a lot more clever and complex than it really is.

Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is an expert at stealing ideas from people's minds via their dreams. Will doing such a job on industrialist Saito (Ken Watanabe), Cobb's cover is blown, and he and sidekick Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) are shanghaied into doing a different job for Saito: to plant an idea in the head of rival businessman Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy) and bring down his business empire. Cobb and Arthur assemble a new team, including weapons guy Eames (Tom Hardy), a chemist/sleep expert (Dillip Rao) and an architectural student (Ellen Page) to pull it off. Things quickly become complicated when Cobb's own memories of his wife (Marion Cotillard) begin interfering with the dreamworld, and when heavily-armed "security" forces show up to wipe our protagonists out.

It must be said that Inception starts off very well. The first 80 minutes or so are engrossing and promise a superb movie. There's lots of talk and exposition - it wouldn't be a Nolan film if there weren't - but the talk is interesting, and we have a nice cross-section of characters assembled for the job. The concept of the movie is fascinating, and the early scenes of dream-exploring create high hopes for the main story. It's set up as a cerebral heist film with a sci-fi twist, and by God it looks like it will be fun to go along for the ride.

Once the actual job gets under way, however, Inception begins to unravel. By the time we've penetrated a third level of reality, the movie has devoured its own tail, only to keep going until it bursts out its own stomach. The pace becanes schizophrenic, trying to balance long dialogue scenes with action and the layers of reality are awkwardly juggled. The dreams themselves, aside from a few nice bits early on, are flat and bereft of wonder: compared to Shutter Island's bizarre phantasmagorias, Inception's aren't remotely convincing and undermine the facile musings about "the nature of reality." Nolan falls back on action movie cliches to pad out the run time, with a shoot-'em-up finale that wouldn't be out of place in a Die Hard or Bond flick. Nolan spends half the film building up our expectations only to steer it off a cliff.

Perhaps most irritating of all is the screenplay. Nolan's hamfisted homilies in The Dark Knight got a bit grating, but didn't seriously detract from the film. Unfortunately, Inception is largely sunk by its script, a shining example of obvious storytelling. Everything is spelled out in the most excrutiating detail: backstory, key plot points, everything that's going on. The twist involving Cobb could have been interesting were it not handled with awkward, clunky and long montages and monologues. It's not that the film is confusing or hard to follow; far from it, with everything hammered into the audience's skull, even the densest viewer can fully grasp what's going on. A complete lack of humor or ambiguity and one-note characters don't help either. Nolan either needs to acquaint himself with the concept of subtlety, or get someone else to write his movies.

Nolan's direction is mostly good. The action scenes are a mixed bag: some are creative and interesting - Arthur's zero-gravity showdown with dream-world thugs - others more banal and generic, though at least we're spared obnoxious shaky cam and quick-editing. The pace is a bit uneven, with the movie awkwardly balancing action and exposition within the same scenes, but flows reasonably well. A major weak point is Hans Zimmer's strikingly banal score: the talented composer who gave us the scores for The Lion King, Crimson Tide and Pirates of the Caribbean has been reduced to repetitive, mind-numbing mixtures of insistent strings and loud electronic noise.

Nolan does his ensemble cast few favors, though a few manage to shine. Leonardo DiCaprio has the only meaty role and he nails it, even if his Cobb comes off as a watered-down variation on his Teddy Marcus from Shutter Island. Joseph Gordon-Levitt (500 Days of Summer) and Tom Hardy (Black Hawk Down) are good, and Ellen Paige (Juno) divests herself of her usual obnoxious persona. Marion Cotillard (Public Enemies) mostly has to be sad and pretty, both of which she nails. Michael Caine, Cillian Murphy and Ken Watanabe mostly bring baggage from previous Nolan films. Pete Postlethwaite (In the Name of the Father) and Tom Berenger (Rough Riders) are squandered in the tiniest of bit parts.

Inception is ultimately a big, fat, mindfucking disappointment. That it starts off so well makes its ultimate mediocrity that much more frustrating.

Hyde Park Entertainment Masks a Church Embarrassed by Catholicism

I've read the 'Liturgies and Events' guide book produced by the Bishops Conference and it is thoroughly depressing.

For the 'gathering' prior to Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament in the presence of the Holy Father there is a, 'variety of groups [...] showing a rich diversity of styles and traditions which are all part of the Catholic community in England and Wales.'

There is RISEtheatre!, there is the Larondina Dance Group, More than Dance, the Zywiec Folk Song and Dance Group, the Doherty Academy (not to be confused with Pete Doherty's band) and Brooks Academy. Look all these guys up for a full round up of what we have in store at Hyde Park.

Thank God that the Holy Father will not be present to watch it. What one picks up from this dazzling array of performance artists, all perfectly wonderful in their own right, I am sure, is that the Church in England and Wales is bending over backwards to apologise for Catholicism, Catholic Tradition and the traditional devotions which have been the bedrock of the Church for 2,000 years.

It is a masquerade, a sham, a performance, an innovation-obsessed Church, a Church obsessed with the modern and presenting a modern face to the Faithful and to the World. It is a Church embarrassed by Her own tradition, desperate to gain respect and for 'keeping up with the times'. The Church in England is trapped in a timewarp - to be precise - the 1970s and it appears that those responsible for so much liturgy in the Church cannot move on, or delve deeper into the rich heritage of devotion, piety and traditional prayer of the Church.

A Church embarrassed by Her own devotions, a Church embarrassed by Her own teaching, a Church embarrassed by the orthodoxy of Her Pope, a Church, really, that is embarrassed by Christ and His Blessed Mother. It is a Church obsessed with man, rather than God, a Church that presents itself as a 'community group', rather than the Body of Christ who yearn for Him and who love His Gospel.

The Shepherds are there to lead the Priests and the Faithful closer to God, to lead them towards God, but they continually place obstacles in our way as if they are ashamed or embarrassed by Him. When the 'Son of Man returns will He find faith' in England and Wales? Or will he just find a load of men and women dancing about on a stage at the behest of the Hierarchy in England and Wales? It is another opportunity missed, that could have been seized, to show that English Catholicism is back and it has nothing to be ashamed of!

TCM rules!

TCM is about ready to wrap up Summer Under the Stars, and they've got two good ones coming up this weekend:

Saturday: Peter O'Toole

The Day They Robbed the Bank of England
The Night of the Generals
My Favorite YearBecket
The Last Emperor
Lord Jim
Lawrence of Arabia
The Ruling Class
The Stunt Man

That's a really fucking impressive line-up, and a bunch of great films in that mix. The only problem is The Stunt Man being on at 3 AM - I've wanted to rewatch that for awhile.

Sunday: Henry Fonda

Fort Apache
Firecreek
How the West Was Won
In Harm's Way
Midway
My Darling Clementine
Young Mr. Lincoln
12 Angry Men
The Wrong Man
The Lady Eve
The Big Street

Almost as good, barring In Harm's Way and Midway.

Sounds like a good weekend to sit on the couch and watch TV.

Speaking of which, school's starting up on Monday, and it's promising to be a very busy semester, so expect reviews with less frequency. Just warning you.

"This One Goes Out to All You Oratorians Out There"

The Sweet Eyes of Tender Pity

Browsing The Catholic Herald website the other day, I was gobsmacked when I read that Jon Venables, the young man almost universally despised for the killing of Jamie Bulger, has turned to the One True Faith for refuge and hope, having sought out a Catholic priest in prison, where he is confined having been convicted of child pornography offenses.

In reality we should not be surprised. When the World judges it seldom does so in the light of God's unfathomable mercy. More rarely, does it wish to walk a mile in the shoes of another before casting judgement. More rarely still, does it have the humility to acknowledge its own sins as grievous faults which, too, deserve Divine retribution. God's justice is so much sweeter than earthly justice for He is full of tender pity and compassion. The World cannot comprehend His love and, of course, the pity and love of God's friends on Earth. There is no greater gift on earth than the gift of Faith.


The Mirror reports...

'Child killer Jon Venables has turned to religion – and claims God will forgive him for his crimes. Prison sources said he ­had asked for a Roman Catholic priest to visit him in his cell and spent three hours talking to him. Since then he has made a crucifix out of string and has been given a set of ­plastic rosary beds.

He also spends hours reading the Bible in his cell. Venables, who along with ­Robert Thompson tortured and murdered two-year-old James Bulger in 1993, was sent back to jail last month for breaking his parole when child porn was found on his ­computer.

And officers at the Category A jail where he is being held wonder if his sudden interest in religion is genuine. “It’s a well-trodden path for sick killers like Venables to find God,” said a prison source. “They think that whatever they did in the past will be forgotten because they have suddenly ­become religious. He’s been going around talking about God and how in his eyes he will be forgiven for his sins. But it is a bit strange that he has never mentioned religion before and has only started ­talking about the Bible since he was jailed for the child porn offences a ­couple of weeks ago. It has disgusted people in the jail – especially those who have had to listen to him talking about God and the Bible. Everyone thinks it is an act on Venables’ part, and is some sort of bid to make his life in prison easier.”

However Venables, 27, will never be allowed to attend Sunday services in prison as he is kept segregated from other prisoners for his own safety.  When Venables was recalled to jail for breaching his parole Roman Catholic priest Ray Blake sparked fury when he wrote on an internet blog that he felt “immensely sorry” for him.'

The World reacted similarly when Myra Hindley converted to Catholicism under the care of Lord Longford, commonly derided as a "holy fool" for his generous efforts in bringing the notorious child killer to the Faith of Christ. The reality of God's Judgment is that we will see on the Great and Terrible Last Day many of those the World thought of 'beyond redemption' taken into Paradise, while many the World thought were just consigned to Everlasting Fire and all of God's Elect will rejoice in His Justice and in His Mercy forever in Eternity. If we wish to be on the side of the veil where God reigns as King, then we should pray for a love that 'mirrors' His rather than the hacks at The Mirror.

Boyle to Bellahouston, Essex to Play Hyde Park?

With confirmation that Susan Boyle will be headlining at the Petrine Festival in Glasgow, sponsored by Peter's, purveryors of pies, pasties and savoury slices to the Faithful, details of the line-up for the Hyde Park Festival in London are yet to be confirmed.

According to my sources, Pete Doherty and Carl Barat of newly reformed rockers, The Libertines, were mute when asked to headline for Hyde Park, fearing a backlash reacton from fans. The Bishops of England and Wales also thought that their style of chaotic, electric guitar-led music would be, according to one source, "inappropriate."

So, after all, it looks very much as if it is all going to be down to David Essex to lead the Faithful in preparing the stage for Pope Benedict XVI at Hyde Park. "Don't knock David," said an insider, "There's a lot of spirituality in his music," said one key insider at Eccleston Square, "Hold me close, don't let me go," reminds us of God's unfailing love for us and what is Jesus if He is not the 'love light shining clearly'?' Jesus is, ultimately, our 'silver lining' in the clouds."

Pray for the Trapped Chilean Miners Keeping the Faith

"I'll handle this!" San Lorenzo is brought in to aid trapped miners

Sporting red vestments, a lacy alb and a red hard-hat, the Deacon and Martyr, St Lawrence, patron of miners (I didn't know that) has been brought in to aid and protect the 33 Chilean miners trapped 2,300 feet below ground in sweltering heat.

In Catholic countries, when there is an emergency or a disaster, people quickly call upon help from the Court of Heaven.

In Protestant or largely atheistic countries, like ours, people just say, "Oh, how awful. Poor people...Makes you thankful for Margaret Thatcher. Stick the kettle on will you, love."

According to The Telegraph...

'The miners' families have held vigil at "Camp Hope" for three weeks, at first praying that their fathers, husbands, brothers and sons would be found alive. Their prayers were answered August 22, with the delivery of a note strapped to a drill bit that emerged from the bowels of the Earth carrying a simple red-ink message: "All 33 of us are well and in the shelter".

Now, with officials stressing that a successful rescue could be months away, relatives spend their days writing messages of love and support to the men, who have been trapped for three weeks underground in a 50 sq yard room. The men were told on Wednesday that they may not be rescued until the end of the year. Jaime Mañalich, Chile's health minister, said the men had accepted the news calmly.

Rescuers have been sending clothes, food, medical supplies and games down a cylinder the diameter of a grapefruit to keep the men physically and mentally fit. Among the items being sent down was a football jersey signed by members of the Chilean national team. It was destined for Franklin Lobos, a 55-year-old miner who was a professional footballer in his youth, and even made the national team in the 1980s.

Food and supplies are sent 2,300 ft to Chilean miners

The team's coach Marcelo Bielsa, captain Claudio Bravo, and top players Jorge Valdivia and Matias Fernandez all signed the shirt, which Lobos's daughter Carolina said "will delight my father. He has so much respect for Bielsa and for how he handles the team," she said. The family of Edison Pena, a 34-year-old mechanic, have their own surprise gift for him: a photo of US rock and roll legend Elvis Presley. "Hang in there, because soon you're going to be more famous than Elvis," they wrote in a note accompanying a photo of the singer.

The messages, whether full of tender emotion or lighthearted anecdotes, will bring hope and optimism to men struggling to process the trauma of their fate, psychiatrists said. "They told us that the first days were torture because all they could think was that they would be there forever and that they would die there," said Juan Pena, Edison Pena's father. "They felt the machines drilling nearby looking for them, but not where they were. When the drill finally found them, they felt like they had been revived," he said.'

Heaven help them, because reports are suggesting that the miners will not be out until Christmas unless San Lorenzo can pull a rabbit out of a hat for them. The Guardian's commenters are rather negative about the whole 'praying' thing. "I'll keep them in my thoughts," they say, or, "Send them my kindest regards", as if somehow thinking nice thoughts or sending regards is going to help! "Hello, Roger from Ipswich here. Just to let you know I'm keeping you in my thoughts!"

I don't know if its an old Protestant thing about the Saints or just the idea that anyone could pray for someone is delusional because it 'won't help'.Give the man a chance, will you?! He's only just arrived on the scene! Pray for them.

Wyatt Earp

Lawrence Kasdan’s Wyatt Earp (1994) had the misfortune of being released almost simultaneous to Tombstone (1993), an energetic, fast-paced and fun Western that appealed even to non-genre fans. Kasdan’s morose, somber revisionist epic suffered in comparison, and tanked at the box-office. Sixteen years later, it’s mostly been forgotten.

Kasdan’s previous Western, Silverado (1985), was a cornball, fun but disposable throwback to classic Western clichés. Wyatt Earp is the complete opposite: a film determined to cut one of the Old West’s greatest heroes down to size. It’s an uneven film, with some great moments mixed with rubbish, and dragged down by excessive length and a garbled message.

Wyatt Earp (Kevin Costner) is a Missouri farm boy who is lectured by his father (Gene Hackman) that family is the most important thing in life. Earp’s attempts to start a life are ruined when his wife (Annabeth Gish) dies, and Earp drifts from law school into a life of petty crime. Bailed out by his father, Wyatt goes west to seek his fortune, becoming a lawman in Kansas cattle towns like Wichita and Dodge City. He eventually teams up with brothers Virgil (Michael Madsen), Morgan (Linden Ashby) and Warren (James Caviezel), along with Ed (Bill Pullman) and Bat Masterson (Tom Sizemore) and tubercular gunslinger Doc Holiday (Dennis Quaid), to civilize Dodge, then takes the show to mining town Tombstone, Arizona, hoping to settle down as businessmen. The Earps soon find themselves drawn into a conflict with the Cowboys, a local gang of thugs led by Curly Bill Brocious (Lewis Smith) and abetted by crooked Sheriff Behan (Mark Harmon), and the consequences are deadly.

Wyatt Earp is a mostly good film that undeniably suffers from excessive length and bloat. The opening scenes of Earp’s misspent youth go on far too long, and seem patched together from any number of John Ford films. Once the main plot gets going, the movie picks up and remains mostly good. Its gritty, unsentimental view of the West is perfectly in-keeping with our post-modern zeitgeist, where there’s little room for white-hatted heroes and noble myths. Wyatt Earp has a feeling of authenticity, but is really no more historically accurate than other Earp films; if anything, Tombstone is more accurate for all its Hollywood flash.

Though it’s not the first revisionist take on the Earp legend, Wyatt Earp gets points for the balanced portrait of its subject. Hollywood’s righteous heroes smiting the evil Clantons are replaced with a gang of opportunists who will do anything for money: James (David Andrews) pimps out his own wife, and all of the brothers are involved in vice rackets. Wyatt is a deeply conflicted man, with a sense of justice and family honor, but also a streak of violence and melancholy – and overwhelming stubbornness. Some of the best scenes involve Wyatt’s clashes with his brothers’ wives; they strongly resent Earp’s control over their husbands. Earp treats his own wife Mattie (Mare Winningham) like dirt and has a none-too-subtle fling with actress Josie Marcus (Joanne Going). After Morgan is killed and Virgil wounded by back-stabbing Cowboys, all notions of justice go out the window: Wyatt, Holliday and friends ride out for revenge, and this time it’s personal.

The movie’s weakest segment, oddly enough, comes in Tombstone, the cornerstone of any Earp movie. The film somehow manages to get everything wrong, whether historically or dramatically. The Cowboys are an interchangeable bunch of prairie scum, a far cry from Tombstone’s colorful cast of baddies. The worst sin, of course, is the frightfully dull staging of the gunfight at the OK Corral, easily the weakest portrayal of that infamous shootout. One might excuse this, since it's not Kasdan's primary focus as in most other Earp films, but the movie begins with the set-up to the gunfight, positing it as the film's pivotal event. Thus, the shootout's lackluster staging can only be a colossal let-down.

The saving grace of these scenes is the love triangle between Wyatt, Josie and Sheriff Behan, much more convincingly portrayed than in Tombstone; it's an unglamorous mess, fuelled by lust and jealousy, that enhances Wyatt and Behan's political feud. Kasdan also a does a creditable job of showing the tangled, dubious legal situation in Arizona Territory – both Earp and Behan are duly appointed peace officers with overlapping jurisdictions, and Wyatt finds himself, in Doc’s words, “a lawman and an outlaw – best of both worlds.”

In later sections Kasdan undercuts the revisionism, particularly in the mythic showdown with Curly Bill Brocious, and a silly epilogue echoing The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance’s famous intonation: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” This might be okay if the rest of the film hadn’t been devoted to tearing down that legend. Perhaps the sentimentalist in Kasdan couldn’t resist sounding a positive note amidst the gloom, but it comes off poorly in context. After three-plus hours of depicting Earp as a morally dubious scum bag, these bits seem false.

Kasdan’s direction is excellent throughout. The film bristles with period detail, and there is a lot of gorgeous cinematography courtesy of Owen Roizman. James Newton Howard provides a beautiful, sweeping score that contributes wonderfully to the film. Technically, there isn’t much at fault with the movie.

Kevin Costner gets a lot of flak for his performance, but he does a fine job portraying the moral ambiguities and bullheadedness of Kasdan’s Earp. Dennis Quaid gives an excellent turn as Doc Holliday. He’s a world removed from Val Kilmer’s flamboyantly fun performance, convincingly tubercular, complemented by a delightfully black, vulgar sense of humor.

The huge supporting cast is poorly used. The best are Tom Sizemore and Bill Pullman as Bat and Ed Masterson, Mark Harmon’s slimy Sheriff Behan, and Joanna Going, a far better Josie than Dana Delaney’s anachronistic “modern woman.” The Earp wives are also well-played by Catherine O’Hara, JoBeth Williams, Mare Winnigham, Alison Elliot and Annabeth Gish (Nixon).

The rest aren’t so lucky. Gene Hackman gets third billing for a glorified cameo. Isabella Rossellini is well-cast as Big Nose Kate, but has only a pair of brief scenes. Linden Ashby and Michael Madsen are one-note as Morgan and Virgil. Jeff Fahey, Lewis Smith and Adam Baldwin come off terribly compared to their Tombstone equivalents.

Wyatt Earp is worth seeing for Western buffs, Costner fans and Earp afficionados. But as good as it often is, it can’t hold a candle to My Darling Clementine or Tombstone for entertainment value.

Religious Doctors are a Problem for the BMA

The British Medical Association find the new report troubling

The BBC reports that...

'Doctors with religious beliefs are less likely to take decisions which could hasten the death of those who are terminally ill, a study suggests. The survey of nearly 4,000 doctors found those with a strong faith were also less likely to discuss end-of-life treatment options with their patient.

The London University research urges greater acknowledgement of how beliefs influence care. Doctors and campaigners described the findings as "concerning". Dr Clive Seale of Barts and the London School of Medicine analysed 3,733 responses from doctors practising in a wide variety of fields, with a particular focus on those who worked in palliative care and with the elderly.

The General Medical Council, which regulates the profession, says that while doctors should start from the assumption that life should be prolonged, this should not be at any cost. While it is illegal to give drugs with the deliberate intention of ending someone's life, doctors may administer morphine or other medication to relieve pain or distress which may have the effect of shortening life - so-called deep sedation.

The GMC also advises that discussions surrounding end-of-life care, including issues such as tube-feeding, hydration and resuscitation, which can all cause avoidable distress, be started with those who are terminally ill well in advance of their dying days.
Patient communication

Those who described themselves as very or extremely non-religious were about 40% more likely to sedate than religious doctors, the study in the Journal of Medical Ethics reported. Being very or extremely religious was also associated with significantly fewer discussions of decisions with patients around treatment at the end of life.

More than 12% of the doctors surveyed described themselves as very or extremely religious, compared with just over 6% of the UK general population - as documented in the last national survey of attitudes. However one in five described themselves as very or extremely non-religious, slightly higher than the general population.

The UK medical population differs in ethnic profile from the population as a whole, with a higher proportion of doctors from South Asian backgrounds. The survey showed that specialists in the care of the elderly were more likely to be Hindu or Muslim than other doctors, while palliative care doctors were slightly more likely to be white and Christian.

The British Medical Association said: "Decisions about end-of-life care need to be taken on the basis of an assessment of the individual patient's circumstances - incorporating discussions with the patient and close family members where possible and appropriate. The religious beliefs of doctors should not be allowed to influence objective, patient-centred decision-making. End-of-life decisions must always be made in the best interests of patients."


Professor Mayur Lakhani, chair of the National Council for Palliative Care, said he was concerned by the findings of the paper. "Core training in palliative care should be mandatory for all doctors to ensure consistency of decision-making, based on best practice and current evidence. Decisions must be taken in partnership with people approaching the end of life and those close to them".

Dr Ann McPherson of the charity Dignity in Dying added that while there was growing awareness of the need to put patients' wishes first, the research indicated there was "still some way to go.The fact that some doctors are not discussing possible options at the end of life with their patients on account of their religious beliefs is deeply troubling. Whilst entitled to their beliefs, doctors should not let them come in the way of providing patient-centred care at the end of life."

David Praill, chief executive of Help the Hospices said the findings highlighted "the maze of complex moral and legal dilemmas that doctors can face when caring for patients at the end of life. Doctors need support to ensure that they have the information, skills and confidence necessary to make the best end of life care decisions with their patients."'

Those nasty Christians! They're not killing off the elderly, terminally ill, sick and infirm quick enough and they even feel reluctant to hasten death! It's about time their religious sentiments were banned from the medical profession. What we're really after is killing on an industrial scale and these Christians don't want to do it! Looks like we're going to need a new law about this!

Susan Boyle to Sing for Pope Benedict XVI

 According to ITN News...

'She will perform as part of the Pontiff's open air celebration of Mass in Glasgow's Bellahouston Park on September 16. The 49-year-old, from Blackburn in West Lothian, is expected to perform three songs, including her smash hit I Dreamed A Dream, which catapulted her to fame on Britain's Got Talent.

She said: "To be able to sing for the Pope is a great honour and something I have always dreamed of. It's indescribable. I've always wanted to sing for His Holiness and I can't really put into words my happiness that this wish has come true at last. I am humbled and honoured by this invitation and I hope I can do my best."'

I Dream a Dream? Is that the Communion Hymn? The other two songs are yet unknown but let us just hope and pray that they are not Shine, Jesus, Shine and Colours of Day or, well, anything else from Les Miserables or any other naff musical.

Once Upon a Time in America

Sergio Leone’s final film is a flawed masterpiece. Sixteen years in gestation and subject to extensive cutting (even the 229-minute version is an hour shorter than Leone’s preferred length), Once Upon a Time in America (1984) is at turns fascinating and frustrating. It took this viewer three viewings before I was ready to declare it a great film, and even now I have serious reservations. If you’re able to make it through though, it’s a beautiful, poignant and richly rewarding film.

1933: Jewish gangster David “Noodles” Aaronson (Robert De Niro) narrowly escapes Syndicate hitmen who want to kill him for betraying his friends. Thirty-five years later, Noodles returns to New York, having been summoned by a wealthy and mysterious client. As Noodles tries to find his benefactor, he flashes back to earlier days: first his youth (Scott Tiler), growing up in a Brooklyn ghetto, where he pined after the pretty Deborah (Jennifer Connelly), met buddy Max (Rusty Jacobs) and ran a small gang that ran favors for a local crime boss (Clem Caserta). After killing rival gangster Bugsy (James Russo), Noodles spends a decade in jail, emerging to find Max (James Woods), Patsy (James Hayden) and Cockeye (William Forsythe) running a successful speakeasy.

Noodles is ambivalent as Max gets the gang tied up with Frankie Minaldi’s (Joe Pesci) national Syndicate, rubbing out rivals and supporting a union strike led by Jimmy O’Donnell (Treat Williams). He tries to reconnect with Deborah (Elizabeth McGovern), now a successful actress, but things go horribly wrong. Max’s ambitions drive Noodles further away, as his embarks on a suicidal plan to rob the Federal Reserve. Noodles is convinced by Max’s squeeze Carol (Tuesday Weld) to betray him, leading to an ambush and three decades of regret.

Once Upon a Time in America seems designed to aggravate viewers. Its near four-hour length alone will turn off many: throw in a non-linear narrative, slow pace, graphic violence, rape scenes and an ambiguous ending and you have one exhausting movie. Despite the disjointed chronology, the story is pretty straightforward but many key plot threads remain ambiguous – perhaps by design, perhaps due to cutting. It’s certainly worth the effort if you have the patience, but I will not judge anyone who does not.

Comparisons with The Godfather are inevitable (not the least since Leone was first offered to direct that film), but for all its grandeur and scope, Once Upon a Time in America has more to do with an earlier crop of gangster flicks: The Public Enemy, Scarface, White Heat, Little Caesar. Noodles and Co. are mad-dog street thugs: hit-men, thieves and union muscle manipulated by Frankie Minaldi’s Syndicate. They seem out-of-place and uncomfortable in their oft-opulent surroundings; their only virtue is loyalty to each other, and even that proves questionable. The stylized slayings of Coppola’s films are replaced with brutally direct violence that doesn’t sanitize the underworld: few people are likely to come away from this film thinking Noodles and Co. as heroes, as so many do with The Godfather and Goodfellas.

Leone goes a step further than ‘30s gangster pics in characterizing its protagonists as perennial adolescents: violent, greedy, misogynistic, and obsessed with sex, power and money. Lacking the moralizing tone of the earlier films, Leone simply presents the gang as the product of a rough time and place, their reversion to crime not a tragedy but inevitable. Noodles’ raping Carol during a robbery and a baby-switching scene are bits of cruelty played for laughs. Max’s plan to rob the Federal Reserve is either insane or childishly naïve. Even Noodles, portrayed mostly as a smart, sensitive guy, is given to fits of volcanic rage that destroy his chance at normality: his rape of Deborah is a truly appalling sequence, an act of childish defiance towards a friend who won’t play along anymore. James Cagney and Paul Muni were saints compared to these guys.

The film most successfully conveys wonderful atmosphere and emotion. Leone’s sumptuous period detail (and Ennio Morricone’s score) makes the film physically beautiful, and it has an air of poignancy and dreamy nostalgia achieved by few other films. Many scenes are incredibly beautiful: the whimsical scene of young Patsy preferring a cake to a date with a prostitute, and Noodles’s fantasy date with Deborah (shades of The Great Gatsby?) are particularly transcendent bits. These scenes make the violence all the more shocking and pertinent, rupturing the nostalgic atmosphere. Happiness quickly turns to tragedy, shattering the idyll: a younger member of the gang is killed immediately after they hit it big, and Noodles ends his night out with Deborah by raping her. No wonder Noodles’ final flashback is restricted to his comparatively-innocent childhood.

The movie does have one major flaw. The flashbacks are realized with vividness and dramatic force, but the 1968 sequences seem almost an afterthought. Sketched-in, drawn-out, and very talky, they just sit there, and serve as distractions from the really interesting bits. The twist is fairly obvious and undermines the power of what came before. Noodles’ confrontation with Secretary Bailey has some poignancy, but his reunion with Deborah is a complete dud. Oft-questionable make-up jobs (especially Elizabeth McGovern) don’t help and the weird ending has its own problems. Perhaps all this justifies the infamous “Dream Theory,” that the whole movie is just Noodles’ dope-induced hallucination, but that seems a cop-out to cover up weaknesses in plot. Leone made a great film, not a perfect one.

Leone’s direction is flawless; he transcends his straight-jacketing as a Western director and proves himself a true artist. Using New York locations, Cinecitta sets and other locales, along with astonishing costumes and opulent art direction, Leone recreates Prohibition-era New York to a T. His usual slow, ritualistic tempo mixes with a stunning visual style to forge one of the most beautiful films ever made. Ennio Morricone’s elegiac, operatic score may well be his best work: from the wistful main title, to Edda dell’Orso’s sweeping soprano and Zamphir’s dreamy panpipes, the score is truly astonishing.

Robert De Niro is good in an unusually restrained performance; Noodles is a brooding character with fits of explosive anger that are powerful when they come. James Woods gives an electrifying performance, completely stealing the film. Tuesday Weld does excellent work but Elizabeth McGovern struggles with a one-note character. The child actors are pitch-perfect, with special honors to Scott Tiler (Three O’Clock High) and a fourteen year old, already-stunning Jennifer Connelly.

The rest of the cast is reduced to colorful bit parts, with varying degrees of effectiveness. William Forsythe (Dick Tracy) and James Hayden are marginalized compared to De Niro and Woods, though each has their moments. Veteran character actors Danny Aiello (The Godfather Part II), Richard Bright (The Getaway), James Russo (Public Enemies) and Burt Young (The Killer Elite) make the most of their screen time, but Joe Pesci (JFK) and Treat Williams (The Eagle Has Landed) seem adrift in peripheral roles. A very pretty Darlanne Flugel (To Live and Die in LA) shines in her small part.

Once Upon a Time in America is not going to appeal to everyone, and is likely to alienate a great many viewers. Those who have the patience and stamina to see it through, however, are in for a treat.

Operation Crossbow

Another in the long string of '60s World War II commando flicks, Operation Crossbow (1965) is a middling entry in the subgenre. Working on a story by Emeric Pressburger, it shakily balances serious drama with Boy's Own adventure. The end result is entertaining enough despite some bloated passages.

Shortly before D-Day, British military intelligence gets word that Germany is working on a secret weapon to turn the tide of the war. Aerial reconassiance raises suspicions that the Germans are building rocket-propelled bombs, pilotless aircraft with seemingly infinite range, but rocket scientist Dr. Lindemann (Trevor Howard) is skeptical. Spymaster Boyd (John Mills) decides to send a trio of agents - American Curtis (George Peppard) and Brits Bradley (Jeremy Kemp) and Crenshaw (Tom Courtenay) - to infiltrate the German factory disguised as scientists and determine. They find the Germans are indeed working on a rocket system - not only the V-1 and V-2's, but the V-10, a truly monstrous weapon that could possibly reach America! As the first rockets begin reaching London, and German intelligence find out what's amiss, Curtis and Co. must act fast.

Like The Guns of Navarone, Operation Crossbow isn't content to be wall-to-wall action and wraps its heroics in a decidedly serious package. The first half hour of the film is exhaustive exposition, more befitting something like The Longest Day or A Bridge Too Far, with Winston Churchill himself (Patrick Wymark) demanding the Nazis be stopped. We don't even meet the protagonists until the forty-minute mark. The seriousness pays off with some genuinely dark moments: Henshaw is betrayed and left in the lurch, while Nora (Sophia Loren), the wife of the scientist Curtis is impersonating, is dealt a shocking fate. Even our protagonists aren't safe in a refreshing change of pace. It's also nice to see the commandos forced to speak German behind enemy lines, a touch that puts something like The Dirty Dozen to shame.

Mostly though, the film's serious veneer is undercut by its imaginative, fantastic action. Crossbow was released at the height of the James Bond craze, and the movie's "infiltrate the enemy's superfortress to save the world" sensibility is very much in the vein of 007. The efforts at serious "realism" are lost in the conventional second half, and go out the window when Curtis holds off seemingly the entire Wehrmacht with an MP-40 like so many screen commandos before him. This isn't a criticism per se, but the film is a mite schizophrenic. The actions our heroes undertake may well be a sacred patriotic duty (as the coda so earnestly insists), but the movie's best-viewed as light entertainment.

Journeyman Michael Anderson does a fine job handling the film. Despite a slow pace the movie retains a sense of urgency throughout, with the danger believably multiplying as the first rockets smash into London. The script does a decent job juggling its tone and story lines, even if the exposition goes on too long; some of its big plot twists are truly surprising and well-handled. The finale (with Curtis fighting off Nazi guards while the RAF shows up) is a grandly staged set-piece, aside from some poorly-matched stock footage. Ron Goodwin's rousing score is another highlight.

George Peppard gives his usual performance: handsome but wooden. He's perfectly adequate for his square-jawed hero role, though. Jeremy Kemp (A Bridge Too Far) and Tom Courtenay (Doctor Zhivago) come off better despite marginal screen time, with Courtenay getting the film's meatiest bits. Producer's wife Sophia Loren gets first billing for an extended cameo; despite little screen time and anachronistic makeup, she does well with a tragic character.

Our leads are backed by an astonishing supporting cast. The standouts are Lilli Palmer's underground contact and Anthony Quayle's (Lawrence of Arabia) turncoat spy. The lengthy exposition is made bearable by the presence of Britain's top character talent: Trevor Howard (Ryan's Daughter), John Mills (Tunes of Glory), Maurice Denham (The Day of the Jackal), Richard Johnson (Khartoum) and Alan Cuthbertson (The Guns of Navarone) all put in appearances. The line-up of Nazis is equally formidable: Paul Henreid (Casablanca), Anton Diffring and Ferdy Mayne (both of Where Eagles Dare) are the most recognizable. Barbara Rutting has a nice part as Hannah Reitsch, a real-life German pilot (see Downfall).

Operation Crossbow is a good war flick that achieves what it sets out to do. From a film like this, you can't ask for much more, though it's best to ignore its posturing as a "serious" film.

The SSPX and the Dangers of 'Playing Hard to Get'

I see from Fr Ray Blake's blog, via Rorate Caeli that Bishop Richard Williamson of the 'I want to break free' faction, the Society of St Piux X (SSPX), has been airing his thoughts aloud on his personal blog, to which one apparently has to subscribe in order to view! How very typical of Williamson's brand of Catholicism!

What hits home is the high-handedness with which he writes and his shocking arrogance, as if, somehow, the person with which the SSPX is dealing is the area manager of Waitrose in a customer care complaint, rather than the Successor of St Peter who holds the Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. Really and truly, in all honesty, the true position of the SSPX  towards the Holy See should be as that of beggars, since by embracing schism they have placed not only their immortal souls but those of all who followed them in jeopardy. I'm sure that's somewhere in the Catecheism.


Read this, Bishop Richard Williamson's latest musings:

'From France and Germany, I was told me a few weeks ago that a large proportion of Catholics attending SSPX Mass centres are only hoping and waiting for some agreement to come out of the discussions. If - repeat, if -- this is true, it is very serious. Such Catholics may get full marks for wishing not to be cut off from what appears to be Rome, but they get low marks for not grasping that as long as the discussions remain doctrinal, there is no way in which the neo-modernist teaching of Vatican II can be reconciled with the Catholic doctrine of the true Church. Such Catholics may venerate and love Archbishop Lefebvre as they see him, but they have not understood what he was all about. They had best wake up if they are not in one way or another to fall into the arms of the neo-modernist Romans.'

What's with the name calling!? Are you Ian Paisley or something!? What appears to be Rome!? What appears to be Rome!? It is Rome for crying out loud! We may be a Church with a large number of 'neo-modernists' and there even may be many of them in Rome, encircling the Papacy, even, but it was not the doors of the SSPX that Our Blessed Lord told St Peter that the 'gates of Hell will not prevail against' but those of the One True Church built on Peter!

We can all sympathise with these staunch traditionalists to a degree, because quite rightly they see Doctrine and Liturgy as feeding each other in a happy symbiotic relationship which lead hopefully to holiness of life, charity and truth. The liberal excesses of those who interpreted Vatican II to mean it was time to throw a disco in the Church and regard Communion as a vol-au-vent have been damaging to the whole Church. Yet, the Church is still the Bride of Christ, whatever the sins of Her members, Her clergy and even the most glaring of liturgical volte-faces which neglected Christ's place at the heart of the Mass.

Holding as sacred and unalterable the Doctrines of the Church is useless if you have severed yourself from the True Vine, if you rupture the Mystical Body of Christ and place yourself in a dark corner telling Holy Mother Church, "We worship God better than you do, look at your Masses now and look at ours. Ours are much better! Told you we were right!" Even the most sinful soul can smell that kind of diabolical Pride a mile off. Our Lord told a Parable about that and it is known commonly now as the Parable of the Prodigal Son. The SSPX are the older brother tutting, mumbling to themselves and wondering how God could still love this Church - His Church! Still, I know that that charge can be levelled at the 'Vatican II' element within the Church who shudder at Pope Benedict XVI's generous outreach work which has come at much cost to himself.

How deceived Williamson and Fellay are and how easily taken in they are by the wiles of the Enemy! Christ's Church may be a Church marred and sullied by liberalism, 'neo-modernism' and sin. She may be a Church led by men who are wayward and so downright negligent in their duties that they can't organise a Papal Visit to the UK and make it even appear as if they are loyal to the Holy Father and the Magisterium. She may be a Church with Masses up and down the country that resemble the Annual Folk Music Convention of Cheltenham, but She is still Christ's Bride!

I know the excommunications have been lifted, but, let's face it, it takes real humility to return joyfully to the Church after having been lapsed for so long and every lapsed Catholic worth his salt knows that. Every soul in mortal sin makes that leap in the Confessional from Darkness to Light and it may have been years. It takes strength of character, courage and bravery to get back into that Barque and begin fighting the good fight along with other traditionalist Bishops and Priests who stayed and fought for what they believed was the true Mass, within the Church, like the Fraternity of St Peter. It also takes humility to forego the power and prestige you have acquired through your rebellion! That takes guts! That takes prayer! That takes the love of Christ!

That is what many Priests did do after Vatican II. They stayed and they fought for Christ! That takes sheer unadulterated courage in the face of the humiliations that followed and perserverence in prayer and action to see that bearing fruit in abundance years later, with more TLMs springing up over the country, thanks to the LMS and Priests enthusiastic towards it and other similar groups which are utterly loyal to the Pope and to the Magisterium and to the 'Real Mass'! Honest Catholics know that you cannot 'pick and choose' Catholic doctrines - and that goes for loyalty to the Holy Father too!

Does the SSPX have the humility to return fully and to 'sober up' after their years in the wilderness cut off from the True Vine? I sincerely and truly hope so, as I am sure does the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, but reading Bishop Williamson's words, they sound like those of a man with something of a death wish, a man who has put his immortal soul on the line and doesn't give a flying one which side of the veil it ends up, neither his, nor those in his care! The Church is still the Instrument of God's Salvation, still the Ark of Truth and She is still Christ's Bride, Bishop Richard Williamson! This one's for you!

Mary of Scotland

Today's John Ford flick is an odd entry in the director's CV. Mary of Scotland (1936) is a rather typical Hollywood period piece/star vehicle for Katharine Hepburn. It's an interesting movie in some ways, not least the subject matter, but it's also uneven and stuffy, struggling to retain dramatic tension and casting Hepburn in a role she's ill-suited for.

Mary Stuart (Katharine Hepburn) returns from exile in France to her native Scotland, taking the throne from her duplicitous brother (Ian Keith). Mary's Catholic policies prove unpopular, particularly as reform minister John Knox (Moroni Olsen) preaches fire-and-brimstone disapproval of Mary's rule. Mary is pushed to marry the effette Lord Darnley (Douglas Walton), rather than her true love, the dashing Earl of Bothwell (Frederic March). Mary's arrival also earns the ire of Elizabeth of England (Florence Eldridge), who fears Mary's claim to the English throne. The two factions of the Scottish court clash, and the murders of Mary's secretary Rizzio (John Carradine) by one faction and Darnley by the other, Scotland descends into civil war.

Working off a play by Maxwell Anderson (also behind the superb Anne of the Thousand Days), Ford and writer Dudley Nicholls do a creditable job of keeping the complex inter-clan squabbles of Mary's court comprehensible, and the material is somewhat interesting in and of itself. But the movie moves in fits and starts, never generating much dramatic tension and only sporadically generating interest. Mary is completely passive, saintly (by Ford and Nicholls' reckoning) but uninteresting, and her fate seems avoidable rather than tragic. The film sticks fairly close to historical facts, but Nicholl's stuffy, unimaginative script will keep any but the most fervent Tudor buff uninvolved in Mary's plight. Ford's direction is competent, but aside from a few neat flourishes (particularly Rizzio's murder and the beautiful execution sequence) unremarkable and stagey.

The casting of Katharine Hepburn as Mary is downright perplexing. Kate gives the part her all, imputing Mary with gravitas and tragic dignity, but her assertive persona and acting style is ill-suited for the passive Mary, described as "a creature of passions" by the script. One can see Hepburn jumping at the part as an effort to expand her acting range, but she can't quite overcome the limitations of Mary's part and largely undercuts her characterization as a sensual, flighty woman. Someone was missing a bet in not casting her as Elizabeth.

Hepburn's supporting cast is hit-or-miss. Frederic March (The Best Years of Our Lives) is surprisingly stiff and has little chemistry with his leading lady. Florence Eldridge's catty portrayal of Elizabeth is wonderfully unique, turning the usually-regal monarch into a jealous, combative woman. Ian Keith, Moroni Olsen and get meaty supporting parts, but Ford regulars John Carradine and Donald Crisp are relegated to peripheral roles.

Mary of Scotland is worth a look for Ford and Hepburn fans, but it's far from either's best work and is more interesting than good.

The Long Gray Line

The Long Gray Line (1955) is a film for confirmed John Ford afficionados. That's not to say it isn't good or worthwhile, but it contains most of Ford's faults and foibles and isn't likely to win the director many new converts. Nonetheless, it's a fine tribute to West Point and the United States Army, and is worth watching alone for Tyrone Power's marvellous lead performance.

Marty Maher (Tyrone Power) is an Irish immigrant who shows up to work as a cook at West Point in 1898. He enlists in the Army and is assigned to Captain Keeler (Ward Bond) as a phys ed teacher and football coach. Over the next sixty years, Marty continues to work for the Academy, gaining the love and respect of cadets, and brushing shoulders with soon-to-be bigwigs like John Pershing (Milburn Stone) and Dwight D. Eisenhower (Harry Carey Jr.). Though Marty and his wife Mary (Maureen O'Hara) cannot have children, they come to see the ever-changing Corps of Cadets as a surrogate family, and the Mahers become a beloved Army institution.

The Long Gray Line contains most of what turns some film buffs off of Ford: corny slapstick humor, sappy sentimentality, loud and broad Irishness, and reverence towards the military. The movie also suffers from uneven pacing and an episodic, oft-repetitve plot. The first hour or so is broad comedy, with the movie shifting to sentimental tragedy as it goes along. The big emotional scenes are hit-or-miss, and after awhile it becomes fairly schematic: Marty experiences a tragedy or loss, considers leaving the service, and is goaded into staying. Stretch this out near two-and-a-half hours, and you have a film definitely not for all tastes.

It's hard to fault Ford's intentions, though, and his movie is a splendid tribute to the military. With the West Point setting, Ford indulges his love of ritual and to the fullest, and integrates it perfectly into the story. Marty embodies Ford's patriotism, going from ignorant immigrant to devoted soldier and paterfamilias. Ford celebrates military duty and loyalty but isn't wholly laudatory: Marty, after all, never goes near a battlefield, and experiences great losses during his time at the Point. The film unquestionably whitewashes aspects of military life, belittling Kitty's (Betsy Palmer) concerns about her son (Robert Francis) following his father into the army, but it's a shining example of old-school patriotism that's gentle rather than bellicose.

The movie succeeds or fails on the shoulders of Tyrone Power, and fortunately Power is up to the task. Like Roger Livesey's Colonel Blimp, Marty becomes the embodiment of everything good about the US Army, and remains a compelling, sympathetic protagonist throughout. Power's sensitive and nuanced performance does credit to his character, even in his sillier moments, and he keeps the potentially maudlin film afloat.

The supporting cast is more uneven. Maureen O'Hara is ill-used as a demure housewife; her early scenes as a completely silent wallflower just don't work. Ward Bond (The Searchers) is in top form and Donald Crisp (The Man From Laramie) shines. Robert Francis (The Caine Mutiny), Martin Milner, Patrick Wayne (Cheyenne Autumn) and Harry Carey Jr. (Three Godfathers) are among Marty's cadets. Peter Graves also turns up as a campus troublemaker.

The Long Gray Line is a middling entry in Ford's resume, but it's definitely worth watching for fans of the director and military buffs.

O Holy Father (We Love You, Holy Father!)

In preparation for the Papal Visit 2010, when our beloved, Holy Father visits the United Kingdom and especially England, Our Lady's Dowry, I have written a song dedicated to Pope Benedict XVI, now gloriously reigning. Obviously, this is the first draft. It needs a little bit of work and...well, George, obviously...

O Holy Father

The Holy Father’s coming over to the UK
We’re tellin’ you Holy Father that you’re welcome to stay
The Holy Father’s coming over to the UK
We’re telling’ you Holy Father that just can’t wait
O Holy Father (O Holy Father)
We love you Holy Father (O Holy Father)
The Holy Father’s coming over to the UK
The Holy Father’s coming and we’re happy to say

You Rock!
You Rock!
You Rock! (Because)
You’re the Rock!

The Holy Father’s coming over to the UK
Richard Dawkins ain’t so happy and Peter Tatchell ain’t so gay
The Holy Father’s coming over to the UK
The Bishops, they’ll be happy when you back go on your way
But O Holy Father (O Holy Father)
We love you Holy Father (O Holy Father)
The Shepherds don’t appreciate just who is coming
They never listen to you and that’s why they’re running ‘cos

You Rock!
You Rock!
You Rock (Because)
You’re the Rock!

Ah the Holy Father’s coming over to the UK
He’s on a mission from the Lord and Benedict is his name
The Holy Father doesn’t play the media game
He only speaks the Truth and puts our country to shame
But O Holy Father (O Holy Father)
We love you Holy Father (O Holy Father)
He’s coming to a land where abortion is rife
A land where men take men and they don’t take a wife…

Yes you Rock!
He’s the Rock!
He’s the Rock!
He’s the Rock!

The Holy Father’s going to beatify Newman
The Anglican convert who found the True God and True Man
The holy Cardinal’s up there crowned in glory
Anglicans should take a leaf out from his story
But O Holy Father (O Holy Father)
We love you Holy Father (O Holy Father)
It looks like things in Birmingham are gettin’ gory
When will we get the truth about the Oratory?

You're the Rock!
You Rock!
You Rock!
You're the Vicar of Our Saviour!
You're the Successor of St Peter!
You're the Holy Father, Pope Benedict
O Holy Father
(Repeat to fade)

Rio Grande

The final installment in John Ford's "Cavalry Trilogy," Rio Grande (1950) is a decent enough cavalry Western, even if Ford's disinterest in the material shows. It lacks the complexity of Fort Apache and the poetic beauty of She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, but as straightforward entertainment it's solid. Perhaps most notably, it marks the first big-screen pairing of John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, whose natural, rough-and-tumble chemistry make them one of the all-time great screen couples.

Lt. Colonel Kirby York (John Wayne) commands a cavalry regiment fighting Apaches in Arizona. He is disheartened to receive news that his son Jeff (Claude Jarman Jr.) has washed out of West Point, but is shocked to find him assigned to the regiment as a trooper. Tensions immediately boil as Apache captives escape, and York's strong-willed wife Kathleen (Maureen O'Hara) shows up, demanding that Jeff leave the army and come home. All of this is put on hold when the Apaches kidnap a group of children, and General Phillip Sheridan (J. Carrol Naish) authorizes York to launch an illegal invasion of Mexico to rescue the captives.

Rio Grande is a primarily a bill-paying job; Ford wanted to get funding for The Quiet Man and was badgered into making this by a reluctant studio. It's somewhere between the conventional narrative of Fort Apache and Yellow Ribbon's slice of cavalry life. It has a multi-faceted plot whose strands don't always work out to satisfaction: the tension between York and his son is dropped as soon as Mrs. York turns up, and subplots with Sgt. Quincannon's (Victor McLaglen) guilt over his Civil War activities and Trooper Tyree's (Ben Johnson) troubles with the law are left hanging. The Indians are of the straightforward war-whooping type, appearing when convenient to the story to get shot en masse. Calling the film cliched may be harsh, but there isn't much originality on show.

The film's most interesting facet is its exploration of the lingering after-effects of the Civil War. A subplot of Yellow Ribbon, North-South reconciliation is a major theme of Rio Grande. In a cruel irony, York was forced by General Sheridan to burn down his own home in the Shenandoah Valley, something Kathleen has never forgiven him for; she gives a frosty toast to the cavalry which seems an ironic rebuke to Celia Johnson's homily in In Which We Serve. Sergeant Quincannon agonizes over his own role in the affair, with Kathleen branding him "the reluctant arsonist." The movie ends on a wonderful note of reconciliation, as the cavalry plays Dixie for the benefit of Kathleen, the present happiness allowing the Yorks to move on.

Ford continues his habitual reverence towards military life, albeit more crudely than the previous cavalry films. Though York tells Jeff to expect a life of hardship, the film's actual content seems like an 1880's recruitment film: everybody gets to fight heroically, do cool horse stunts, save little kids, sing all day and get home for supper. The worst part are those damned politicians, who hamstring the troopers from properly fighting the Indians. Thus, in a gesture that would make Douglas MacArthur proud, Sheridan authorizes York to go on an illegal mission into Mexico (sound familiar?). Compared to the ambiguities of Fort Apache, Ford's take on military duty, frontier warfare and even international law is downright reactionary: "Why spoil the beauty of the thing with legality?"

Pitched at a straight action-adventure level, Rio Grande is good. Ford handles the action scenes with his usual aplomb: three big battles with the Indians are exciting and spectacularly filmed. The movie's cinematography is a bit more restrained than its predecessors, with even Monument Valey serving more as a backdrop than a part of the action. Victor Young's fine score is another highlight, even if the Sons of the Pioneers get one too many songs.

John Wayne is in fine form with a straightforward character. Maureen O'Hara is wonderfully fiery and gets her licks in before she and the Duke reconcile. The two play wonderfully off each other, with a powerful screen chemistry that overcomes the oft-weak scripting. Ben Johnson and Chill Wills shine in supporting roles, and Victor McLaglen's excesses are fairly in check.

Rio Grande isn't one of Ford's best films, but it's a decent enough conclusion to the Cavalry Trilogy, and a fine film in its own right.

Judge 'Criticises' Council over Forced Contraception Attempt

Laodicia yesterday blogged that:

'A trailer just popped up on Radio 4 for a new debating programme. The first topic up is the merits of sterilizing the mentally and morally unfit. Yes that's right folks the merits of sterilizing the mentally and morally unfit. This is to be chaired by liberal pseudo-Catholic Edward Stourton. The problem here is not the result of any debate but the fact that such a topic is considered a fit topic for discussion in the first place. This is part of the softening up process for our Eugenic future.'

Let us not be in any doubt. This is where the culture of death is headed and the BBC will, as usual, be at the forefront of not defending us from it. It is inevitable. A society that embraces voluntary abortion, assisted suicide and artificial contraception is ill-equipped to stand firm and rejects these evils when these practises are suddenly touted as potential methods to be used on citizens in a compulsory manner. Euthanasia was voluntary in Nazi Germany before it became mandatory for certain groups deemed 'unfit' at a time of the State's choosing.

Now, today, we have the first hint of what is to come. According to a report in The Telegraph...

'A judge has criticised a council for trying to have contraception forced upon a woman with a low IQ, warning that the move had “shades of social engineering”.'

"Shades of social engineering" is putting it charitably and mildly. This is a dreadful, spine-chilling move by a local council on the 'reproductive health' and individual rights of a woman.

Nazi Witch: Marie Stopes

Meanwhile, I look forward, very much, to hearing Marie Stopes International's condemnation of this flagrant attack on the rights of a woman over her body, but I fear my hope of doing so may be unfulfilled, since 'reproductive health of women' was not the chief motive of their founder. The chief motive of Marie Stopes was the drive for racial purity and the elimination of the 'unfit'.

The article continues and I think you will agree that it is shocking, with my emphasis in bold blue, lightly fisked in brackets...

'Mr Justice Bodey said it would not be “acceptable” for police to take the married woman from her home before doctors sedated her and imposed birth control on her, against her will. He said the local authority’s plan, to stop the 29 year-old having more children, “would raise profound questions about state intervention in private and family life”.

However, the judge agreed that she lacked the mental capacity to make important decisions about her medical treatment, paving the way for the council to make a further request for force to be used (Sound alarm bells now!). It is the latest in a series of rulings published by the Court of Protection, which until recently always kept its judgements secret, that highlight the power that town halls and judges have over people with learning difficulties or dementia.

Earlier this year a High Court judge sitting in the Court ruled that a woman suffering from cancer, who has a phobia of hospitals and needles, should be forced against her wishes to undergo life-saving treatment. The Court, which was given the power to decide on personal welfare cases under the Mental Capacity Act 2005 (Read about this Act and you'll realise just how dangerous this nasty piece of legislation is...), can also order the withdrawal of life-support from patients as well as making them have abortions or undergo “innovative treatment”.

In the latest case, a council in the Midlands (Great journalism. Which Council, please?!) initially wanted to force contraception on a married woman who has an IQ of 53. None of those involved can be named (How convenient!). She has already had two babies, both of whom were taken away from her at birth by social services and put up for adoption over fears she would not be able to look after them. The woman, known in the judgement as Mrs A, is now married to a man with an IQ of 65, and attends college as well as taking part in voluntary work.

A year ago social workers feared that she was suffering violence at the hands of her husband, and also that he had forced her to stop taking contraception because he wanted a baby, so the council began Court of Protection proceedings to “protect her interests” (Right...by "forcing" her to take contraception!)

Solicitors, doctors and psychiatrists interviewed Mrs A in order to find out whether she understood the choices she had regarding birth control, and their implications. The council argued that she was unable to understand the consequences of not using contraception such as the Pill or a coil, or to envisage what is involved in raising a child. (Read: 'She was not co-operating with the State's wishes'. The 'why' is between her and her husband and frankly, they must both be heartbroken that the SS have taken away their children at birth! Have Social Services no shame!? Apparently not!)

But the Official Solicitor, representing the woman, argued that such a wide approach would mean many first-time mothers would appear to lack capacity. The judge agreed that deciding whether a woman “understood enough about the practical realities of parenthood” would veer into a “paternalistic approach”.

On the narrower medical issue, he agreed that Mrs A lacked the capacity to decide whether to have contraceptive treatment. The judge said her decision to stop taking birth control was “not the product of her own free will” because of the “coercive pressure” placed upon her by her husband. However, he said that the council’s application was no longer for “force and restraint” to be used “so that contraception could be urgently administered”.

The judge said Mrs A’s social worker admitted “there would need to be police involvement” and it would be a “horrendous prospect” for her to be “physically removed from the family home and taken to have contraception under restraint and anaesthesia”.

He declined to make an order as to her best interests, leaving it for the council to assess the couple’s parenting abilities if she did become pregnant and then take “appropriate” steps. The council said it “reserves the right” to argue that force should be authorised in the future.

But the judge said: “It is obvious on the facts of this case, that any step towards long-term court imposed contraception by way of physical coercion, with its affinity to enforced sterilisation and shades of social engineering, would raise profound questions about state intervention in private and family life. Whilst the issue of the use of force has not been argued out at this hearing I cannot, on these facts, presently see how it could be acceptable.”

David Hewitt, a specialist in mental health law at Weightmans, said: “It seems from the judgment that, at least at the outset, the council thought it might need to have the police enforce an order that the woman take her contraceptive medication. That seems quite striking, yet because of the route the judge chose to take, it's still in prospect.”'

George Orwell said, knowing what was on the way, "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face, forever".

Social Services have a habit of doing just that. They are footsoldiers in the State's war upon the Poor and they and I do not call them the SS for nothing. This judge may not have agreed with the Council and may have made some negative remarks, but this woman is still not safe from the band of the wicked who seek to force a married woman to take contraception. He hasn't protected her! Which Council is this!? We the people should demand to know! Not content with ripping this poor womans babies away at birth and adopting them out to some randoms, the SS now wish to enforce contraception on her, the diabolical, wicked, savage group of men and women that they are!


Update: Sorry, I just realised, The Telegraph's image of the contraceptive pill in their article is highly misleading. You cannot 'force' someone to take the contraceptive pill, or 'patch', as you'd have to go round and restrain the woman everyday, nor would the simplest way of doing it be the 'coil', so forced contraception wouldn't look like that.

No. It would look like this:

 Dear, dear. Looks like journalistic standards at The Telegraph are slipping and perhaps their moral standards as well.

If we dare to tolerate the abuse of this 29-year-old's human rights, which we should hold as sacred and inviolable, we cannot complain when we are deemed, 'unfit' to have children. Remember, the male contraceptive injection is on the way too, folks!

As an aside I have heard from the organiser of the Abort67 campaign that they are planning next Tuesday a display outside Marie Stopes Clinic in London next Tuesday. Guess where the clinic is based...go on...one guess...

That's right!

Brixton! They're not subtle are they?

Prayers of an Irish Mother

I found this lovely little book in the Sacristry yesterday and flicked through it. Okay, I 'borrowed' it. I must say it is really a very beautiful prayer book and a heartfelt collection of traditional Catholic prayers, poems and consoling petitions, compiled by Mary Teresa Dolan, the eternal rest of whose soul readers are requested at the beginning to pray.

The prayers are for all times and for perhaps all time. Here one which exemplifies the rich Catholicism of the time in which she wrote:

'When Genuflecting.

We adore Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, and we bless Thee here and at all the Tabernacles all over the world, because by Thy Holy Cross and Passion Thou has redeemed the world.'

Have we in the UK and in Ireland lost that beautiful prayerfulness before the Tabernacle? You betcha! Here is another:

Act of Consecration to the Sacred Heart

'O Sacred Heart of Jesus! We adore You with all the powers of our souls and we consecrate them to You forever with all our thoughts, words and actions. Why cannot we, O Divine Heart, render You as much praise, love adoration and glory as Thou Thyself dost give to the Eternal Father! Be Thou the repairer of our faults, the protector of our lives and our refuge at the hour of death! We beg the same grace for all poor sinners, the afflicted, the agonising and the dying, in a word, Our Saviour, for all mankind, that the price of Your Precious Blood may not be lost on us and also that it may be applied to the suffering souls in Purgatory. This is what we ask of You, O Adorable Heart of Jesus, with all the aspirations of our hearts, our veins, even to the last breath of our lives. Amen.'

And this is a lovely Prayer for your Priest:

'O Jesus, Eternal Priest, keep this Thy holy one within the shelter of Thy Sacred Heart where none may touch him. Keep unstained his anonited hands which daily touch Thy Sacred Body. Keep unsullied the lips empurpled with Thy Precious Blood. Keep pure and unearthly a heart sealed with the sublime mark of Thy glorious Priesthood. Let Thy holy love surround him and shield him from the world's contagion. Bless his labours with abundant fruit and may they to whom he has ministered be here below his joy and consolation and in Heaven his beautiful and everlasting crown. Amen.'

Yes, as the organisers of the Papal Visit appreciate only too well, modernism is shallow and ugly, sorely lacking in spiritual depth and the beauty of traditional prayer that has served the Church well for centuries. The organisers of the visit unwittingly show us time and time again that modernism and liberalism is the enemy of the souls of the Faithful and that the old prayers are the best.

The Church in Ireland has come in for a huge kicking over the last year or two and rightly so, for it is not just the trust of the young that was lost in the period of the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s. The great Irish Catholic traditions of reverent, holy, trustful prayer and respect for the holy took a good kicking too. The blame for that, too, has to be levelled at the hierarchy, for it is Shepherds who lose sheep, not sheep who lose their Shepherds. I've looked for it on Amazon and it doesn't appear to be available. Like so much that is has always held us in good stead, so much that is good and holy, it appears to be 'out of print'. Saddening.

By the way, I wonder whether the Bishops of England and Wales could tell us whether any plenary indulgence is granted to the Faithful pilgrims who see the Holy Father at Hyde Park. Perhaps they are just assuming that we all know that without telling us?

We are, in this delightful little book, encouraged to make some 'exterior act of reverence when passing a Church or Chapel in which the Blessed Sacrament is reserved, an indulgence of 100 days each time - Pius X, June 28th, 1908.

Finally, for those of us who are scraping by, who know that even if we don't hit the jackpot money wise, that we may yet hit the jackpot of Grace...

God's Workers

'Who does God's work will get God's pay,
However long may seem the day,
However weary be the way,

Though powers and princes thunder "Nay!"
No human hand God's Hand can stay;
Who does His work will get His pay.

God hurries not, nor makes delay;
Who works for Him will get His pay
Some certain hour, some certain day.

He does not pay as others pay,
In gold or land or raiment gay,
In goods that perish and decay.

But God's high wisdom knows a way.
And this is sure, let come what may,
Who does God's work will get God's pay.'

Is that cheque, cash, or by BACS? Joking!

Is Obama a Trojan Horse for Islam?

It sounds far fetched, doesn't it? According to The Guardian, however, Americans are becoming more unsettled on Obama's self-declared 'Christianity'.


Anyway, for those of you who, like me, like to sound cleverer than they are and who do not actually know the mythology behind the whole Trojan Horse idea, here it is from Wikipedia, the site that helps stupid people to sound intelligent.

'The Trojan Horse is a tale from the Trojan War, as told in Virgil's Latin epic poem The Aeneid and by Quintus of Smyrna. The events in this story from the Bronze Age took place after Homer's Iliad, and before his Odyssey. It was the stratagem that allowed the Greeks finally to enter the city of Troy and end the conflict. In the best-known version, after a fruitless 10-year siege, the Greeks constructed a huge wooden horse, and hid a select force of 30 men inside. The Greeks pretended to sail away, and the Trojans pulled the Horse into their city as a victory trophy. That night the Greek force crept out of the Horse and opened the gates for the rest of the Greek army, which had sailed back under cover of night. The Greek army entered and destroyed the city of Troy, decisively ending the war.'

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts in massive, er, wooden horses! To add fuel to the fire, today, blogger The Catholic Knight has given us a link to Israel Today, a Jewish newspaper, in which Israeli officials are quoted as saying that it is not Iran who is Israel's greatest threat...but Obama. Yikes and double yikes! The article begins...

'Although Israeli officials publicly play down the crisis in relations between Jerusalem and Washington, privately the language is much different. Sources close to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu describe Obama as a "strategic catastrophe" for Israel.'

It continues...

Officials in the Prime Minister's Office, speaking on condition of anonymity to the nation's top newspapers, see the Obama administration as a serious threat to the future of the State of Israel. On the record, Israel and the US have a "strategic partnership that is unbreakable"; off the record, the terminology is blunt to say the least.

"President Obama and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton have drawn a clear line, supporting the Palestinian position at the expense of Israel," said one Netanyahu confidant. "It is insane, it is sick. Relations between Jerusalem and Washington are simply disastrous; the situation has never been so dangerous. This US President wants to establish a Palestinian state at any price and hand them Jerusalem on a silver platter."

Netanyahu has repeatedly distanced himself from such statements, but commentators say the government speaks with a forked tongue. "Israel's relations with the US are at a low point, and Obama poses a danger to Israel," wrote Nahum Barnea in the nation's biggest newspaper Yediot Ahronot. The feeling among the Israeli public is that Obama is appeasing the Muslim world at the expense of Israel.

And then the bombshell is dropped...

'"The American President told me in confidence that he is a Muslim," said Egyptian Foreign Minister Ahmed Aboul Gheit on Nile TV. That could explain why Obama has instructed that the term "Islamic extremism" no longer be used in official government documents and statements.'

This would, also, of course explain his rather lacklustre patriotism, his deep bow to the Saudi King when visiting and his recent wading into the 'Ground Zero Mosque' debate and would also serve to explain why he as recently as 2006, Barack Hussein Obama raised money and campaigned for a Kenyan presidential candidate who promised to enact Islamic Shariah Law once elected.

Of course, the Egyptian foreign minister could be telling absolute porkies and Obama does appear to be the kind of man who would tell a Jew he was Jewish, a Christian he was Christian and a Muslim he were Muslim if he thought there were some benefit in doing so, and were Obama discovered to be a Muslim (and not a very good Muslim at that, given his love for abortion and gay marriage rights) that would not be the end of the World, since Islam is a major world religion and Presidents are free to practise whatever religion they choose. However, the revelation would be very embarrassing for the administration, as he would be roundly condemned for making the habit of lying, deceiving, dissembling and downright filthy fibbing an art form hitherto unwitnessed perhaps since even the World began, having campaigned during the election as an abortion-supporting, gay marriage-supporting, Blairite Christian of the lowest denomination. Still, like the babies Obama doesn't mind being left to die in cases where an abortion procedure has 'not worked', such a brand of Christianity does have a 'shelf-life' and it wouldn't be surprising if he opted for something more, how shall we say, radical? Obama is a Trojan Horse for a whole raft of ideologically liberal policies that denigrate human dignity.

Catholic Care Loses Appeal

Whatever the truth of Obama's religious affiliation, nothing should surprise us nowadays. After all, it becomes more and more obvious that New Labour and the political success of Tony Blair was just a gigantic Trojan Horse for Peter Tatchell and militant homosexual activists. Today, as The Telegraph reports, Catholic Care, the last Catholic adoption agency faces closure after the Charity Commission that it could not avoid considering same sex parents as potential adopters. Nice one, Tony! Equality Act!? My arse! Can those kids have a sports centre too, yeah?! I mean a sports centre makes everything okay, doesn't it?!