Awake in the Stars – In Memory of Sharon

Sharon Blasing was not always the simplest person to comprehend. Obscured inside a myriad of colorful euphemisms was an approach to life that inspired great consideration, and even more bewildering was the vast data bank of knowledge that permeated from her lips every time they spoke. Nomads wander through time and culture with rigorous intent to collect varying fractions of knowledge, but here was a lady that absorbed all of her surroundings (literal and figurative) like fruits of the Earth, and she did everything in her power to pay the wisdom forward. Sometimes it came out aggressively, and could open old wounds. But there was never malice in that conviction: only a desire to lift others, even if it meant making the journey more rigorous in the process.

These thoughts were not always easy to see, especially in the company of a woman whose external thought process possessed distinct flaws. There was stubbornness in her that was downright infuriating, especially when it came to health habits. She had chutzpah in asking favors, and it evolved often into audacity when they became unspoken expectations. I also recall a lot of heated discussions over politics that seemed ripe in misinformation, and it struck a nerve when she dismissed gay marriage as a “non issue” during the very tense 2012 presidential election. Her intention was never to offend or cause awkwardness, but sometimes those are natural in the face of dissonant perspectives about the world.

Bad Grandpa / *** (2013)

Mel Brooks once said that a good comedy requires no fewer than five big laughs. “Bad Grandpa,” the newest MTV film from the creators of “Jackass,” has exactly that many, with several minor chuckles in between. The first comes early on in the picture when the Grandpa character is conducting the eulogy at his wife’s funeral. Their daughter arrives, indicates she is going to prison for violating parole, and angrily insists on leaving her son behind in his care until the father can retrieve him. They banter back in forth with dialogue exchanges that are overheard in the other room via a microphone that remains turned on between them. Guests are shocked and outraged by some of the vulgar proclamations. And then grandpa returns to the room, shaken up, falls back and the open coffin collapses to the floor, which is then nervously played off by the choir breaking into a hymn while the old man dances with the body. In a traditional comedy this kind of audacity would have inspired guilt in those that found it amusing, but here is a movie that, like “Borat” and “Bruno,” uses its shame in a strategic illusion to get reactions out of unsuspecting victims. And the results are often incredibly funny.

Hostel / *** (2005)

Eli Roth’s “Hostel” is an agonizing experience to sit through – disheartening, unpleasant, bursting with torture, detached and harsh, and unrelenting in its passion for the horrific. To call it a challenge in the visual sense does not begin to explain its ability to completely rob you of the comfort of artifice; it so fully indulges in its reality that every cut, every bloodcurdling moment in which pain is inflicted on a number of unsuspecting victims, is felt rather than seen. That may rob the movie of repeat value even in the hands of audiences who willingly embrace this overzealous sub-genre of torture-driven horror, but it does provoke deeper considerations: in the hands of skilled filmmakers who know how to establish reason and perspective, can extreme visual depravity rise above its nature to merely sicken and appall? Like “Saw II” and “High Tension,” here is a movie that elicits a powerful reaction not simply because it goes for the hardcore, but because it has plausible justification for doing so.

Apocalypto / **** (2006)

“A great civilization is not conquered from without until it has destroyed itself from within.”

There are a plethora of subtexts in Mel Gibson’s “Apocalypto” that come scurrying off the screen, but the most commanding of them is also the most subtle: the presence of a calm acceptance encasing the barbaric catastrophes of its characters. Movies often paint portraits of primitive cultures with certain detachment as a way of dealing with their tragedies, but here is a movie that skillfully masks its displacement with an air of alarming cognizance, as if to suggest the material is being viewed from human eyes rather than movie cameras. There is never a sense that what we are seeing is merely staged for an effect of shallow entertainment or even mere education, either. Gibson’s famous “Braveheart” and “The Passion of the Christ” embellish on these feelings, but here the concept arrives at the absolute center of its psychology, and doesn’t look back for any relief. Like a survivor of inconsolable suffering, the movie endures its findings even as they grow darker and more gratuitous. And after two long hours of simple people being victimized, humiliated and tortured beyond comprehension, we are left with a hard reality that points, alas, to a universal pattern amongst all civilization: no force between men is greater than violence, and those that endure do so because they reject fear in the face of immense pain.

Aliens / ***1/2 (1986)

Think of the calculated patience of the Ellen Ripley persona. Here is a woman whose level-headed approach armed her with a foresight that would have allowed all those involved in the “Alien” movies to circumvent confrontations with menacing bloodthirsty monsters, had she not been surrounded by those too lazy or corrupt to follow rules. It was she who anticipated dread when those aboard the Nostromo decided to answer an ambiguous alien distress signal on a remote planet. It was she who refused to open the ship’s hatch when it became obvious that one of her comrades had been exposed to a face-hugging parasite. It was she who expressed discontent over others placing themselves in uncertain danger, even though it may have made her seem unsympathetic in the minds of emotional crew members. It was she who dug deep enough to discover that her crew’s resident android had been programmed to bring the alien life form back to Earth regardless of the safety of others. And when the creature gradually began picking crewmembers off in the shadowy corridors, it was she who stayed focused and committed to the cause of survival, despite the fact that the encounter caused the deaths of all those around her (save for a feline named Jones).

Sex and the City 2 / 1/2* (2010)

Here are ladies of distinct social buoyancy that have now completely lost their mojo. “Sex and the City 2” sees the bravado of four likeable demeanors reduced to the patterns of overpaid escorts; they dress in short scraps resembling dresses, drink as easily as they breathe, smile and charm crowds with superficial gestures, laugh like they are faking courtesy, and take pause long enough to engage in one-note relationship woes or sexual promiscuity, sometimes even when in conservative cultures. Once upon a time these antics were delivered with sharpness and wit that gave them a humorous context, but now they emerge from a place of vulgar excess. Why in heaven’s name did no one high up in this production take long enough pause to warn all of its talented actors that they were participating in a spectacular travesty? Like all bad ideas taken to the pinnacle of development, dollar signs likely negated the need to use logic. I certainly hope they are proud of themselves for their dubious achievement.

Sex and the City / ** (2008)

The governing powers of television comedy would have salvaged many careers and avoided countless embarrassing situations had they established the following doctrine early on: keep sitcoms on the small screen and out of movie theaters, or else suffer the consequences. Evidence supporting this statement fills a list as long as most wedding registries, while notions to the contrary materialize like sightings of the Tooth Fairy. Consider the girls at the center of “Sex and the City,” for example; as the owners of a piece of prime real estate during the weekly cable network lineup for six long years, they earned a notoriety for taking a brazen approach to the taboos of love and sex: discussing them openly, exploring fetishes, dealing with embarrassment and, more importantly, finding their place in a society where they could only guess the intentions of horny men, and either love or hate them for it. Contrary to the suggestion, it was successful not just because it took provocative risks, but because it framed it all with intelligent contemplation.

Richard III / ***1/2 (1995)

There are few certainties rushing through the great Shakespeare plays, but a consensus does persist when it comes to considering the notorious Richard III: he is easily the most vindictive and cunning of all the bard’s major villains. Essays have been written over countless centuries as cathartic measures to understand the ruthless driving forces of his persona: the ability for him to anticipate human response in the face of grief, to manipulate grave tragedies to his political advantage, and to even create a convincing façade that masks his obsessive impulses in front of those who would grant him great power. It was the playwright’s first well-received tragedy, and its endurance through a career punctuated by more highs than lows adds substantial weight to its overreaching influence: for most audiences, the shadowy visage of a hunched man ruthlessly playing his way through the ranks of familial hierarchy represents the kind of multi-faceted antagonist one hopes for in all modern storytelling.

Gravity / **** (2013)

A simple spark in the corner of an eye is sometimes all it takes to arouse great visionary endeavors at the movies. Alfonso Cuarón’s “Gravity,” which occupies this sentiment, is the sharpest and most effective science fiction thriller of our time: a triumph of detail and nuance that imagines something from a source of simplicity and then wraps it in a cloak of ambition that carries us through phases of wonderment, despair, alarm and sometimes outright horror. And it does so without sacrificing the critical component of the great space thrillers: its ability to create a mood without overzealous action or special effects. For the talented filmmaker who also made the fantastic “Children of Men,” the movie presents us not only with a worthy successor, but an even deeper truth: his consistent and passionate finesse with a movie camera now places him in the company of Kubrick and Spielberg.

Titus / ***1/2 (2000)

“I shall grind your bones to dust, and with your blood and it I shall make a paste, and of the paste a coffin I will rear and make two pastries of your shameful heads. And bid that strumpet, your unhallowed dam, like to the Earth, swallow her own increase! This is the feast I have bid hereto, and this the banquet she shall surfeit on… and now prepare your throats!”

He knows only what his time and civilization have conditioned him for: to slay the enemy, conquer his lands, and sacrifice all others – including loved ones – who might characterize a divisive strike against his fist or mind. That is the fundamental guiding force of old conflicted Titus, the main character at the center of England’s bloodiest stage play, and with that conviction he clutches an instinct that is hard-hitting and unsympathetic; audiences bear witness to the ensuing brutality like lambs carried through varying stages of slaughter. There is no hope for any who challenge his will, and those that may merely stand in his shadows as cautious observers are subject to similar fates. Like a spinning blade, the aged general of a dying empire crashes through lives without regard to the merits of human existence, and when a maniacal plot for revenge against him begins to escalate in the hands of bloodthirsty dissenters, it becomes only another platform for more macabre crimes against the flesh.

A Year Older, A Year Wiser

So the old adage goes, perhaps excessively. Today marks the first day of my 32nd year as a living organism in this strange blue world of ours – that round habitat that has become the groundwork of not only billions of years of change and evolution, but of human experiences, conditions, lessons and intelligence. To think of my own existence as part of a scheme too grand to comprehend is like placing yourself in any key moment in “2001: A Space Odyssey.” No one will ever realize what cause or effect will come with their presence, but to know that there is one – and to maintain that perspective – is beyond profound.

Life is a precious commodity. It is taken for granted so easily, so passively. I know this because I have indulged in plenty of my own time-wasting, usually for no other purpose than momentary satisfaction. I used to think of age as an annoying reminder of new aches and pains working their way into one’s life, and that is not entirely untrue. But it is only part of the big picture, which is bound by the element of time that drifts us ever so closer towards the end of our existence as we know it. That becomes a little scarier to confront each year, but it also puts the present into a much broader perspective. Today is about today, and doing everything you can to live, enjoy, savor and cherish the pleasures of Earth and its gifts. I know this better at 32 than I did at 24, and it’s a remarkable feeling to not only realize it, but experience it.

Stand by Me / **** (1986)

When you are an adventure-seeker stuck in that odd transition between early youth and adolescence, few movies resonate more than “Stand by Me.” Our suspicions suggest all the right notes are found not so much on the basis of having gifted filmmakers telling this story, but in the implication that its ideas come from within a collective experience that all men recall with some fondness (or alarm) as they grow older. Rob Reiner, Stephen King and Bruce Evans often find this trait meandering through many of their endeavors, and it’s a wonder they even bother referring to some of those stories as works of fiction. Together, they seem destined to write the prototype for what nearly all male youths will endure on their journey towards a more informed state of wisdom, and here it is all told in a setting where a quiet community is altered by fate’s own sleight of hand, and four spirited individuals are challenged by an event that will compel them to grow up much sooner than they should.

Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory / (2011)

*(star rating not relevant)*

So here is where their nightmare comes to an end. After 18 years of falsified imprisonment, legal battles, unrelenting suspicion and a documentary filmmaker’s camera as their only link to the outside world, the West Memphis Three arrive at the center of “Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory” having learned the harshest lesson about our flawed legal system, and their reward is their own freedom. But at what cost? Two decades of their lives have been lived in isolation for ludicrous reasons, a devastated community spent all their emotional energy on the wrong targets, and the deaths of three eight year olds have gone without justice because an incompetent police force was too careless in their pursuit of facts. And even after the turmoil, none of those involved in the false convictions ever shows the slightest hint of spine; they resolve to their pompous rhetoric that those convicted were done so in a clean case, and the state’s eventual decision to free them based on reduced sentences instead of full exoneration is a spit in the face. Seldom has a film inspired so much dislike in viewers towards the very system designed to protect them.

Paradise Lost 2: Revelations / (2000)

*(star rating not relevant)*

The unanswered questions at the end of “Paradise Lost” were the kind that could inspire not only a need for a follow-up documentary, but indeed an entire political movement. In “Paradise Lost 2,” three teenage boys who were tried and convicted in 1994 of a grizzly series of child murders in Arkansas are nearly five years into their prison sentences, and occupy camera frames like mere shells brow-beaten by a due process that failed them. The perplexity of their convictions was instrumental in the creation of a non-profit support organization that is centralized in the second documentary, in which supporters of the “West Memphis Three” take on operative roles in an appeal process that would overturn the conviction of Damien Echols before a proposed death sentence is carried out. Anyone who saw the predecessor with an open mind can easily see why: in a legal climate that was beginning to use DNA and forensics as keys to unlocking the secrets of heinous crimes, how was it even possible that three relatively calm teenagers could be found guilty of murders that they could not be linked to scientifically?

Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills / (1996)

*(Star Rating Not Relevant)*

On a quiet evening in May of 1993, three young boys in a small town in Arkansas were wandering the neighborhoods after school when an assailant abducted, bound and brutally murdered them, and then left their mutilated remains in a ditch in a remote forested area off a nearby interstate. The ensuing events in West Memphis over the following year were of disquieting reality, as details of the crimes were exposed in graphic detail, a community was whipped into a frenzy of fear and anger, and three teenagers were prosecuted for the slayings based on evidence that was perhaps less than circumstantial. That all of this played out in an atmosphere that was rank in overwhelming religious undertones no doubt complicated the matters, but one central question would endure long after the nightmare had ceased: could three relatively docile teenage boys really commit something so heinous, or were they the victims of a hysteria that demanded some kind of finality to a crime too shocking to comprehend?