philosophy in film

Annie is the “long suffering” girlfriend of Duncan. She begins a “trans-Atlantic romance” with “once revered, now faded, singer-songwriter” Tucker. Meanwhile Tucker has become the “musical obsession” of Duncan.

Yes, another “romantic comedy” about a life-changing rendezvous with second chances. In other words, the first relationship is kaput. But here is a chance to rebound into a new relationship. One that might even actually last. Meanwhile, we’re in the audience sizing these people up. What we want is to be able to identify with at least one of them so that we can at least root for one or the other relationship.

Now, it’s a comedy so we expect to find reasons to actually laugh. But are these people worth investing two hours of your life emotionally? Are the parts that are anything but laughing matters worth committing to? Well, as one IMDb reviwer put it, “[t]he jokes are subtle, clever, original” with “[c]onvincing acting, real characters, none of that fake, plastic Hollywood thing.”

That works for me.

And, let’s face it, when it comes to musicians and fans, there is no predicting what might tumble out of peoples mouths. Or what they might actually be inclined to do. Some people take their music very, very seriously. And this is based on a novel from Nick “High Fidelity” Hornby.

Then the part that revolves around the gap between what the fan[atic] thinks about a legendary rock musician and what the musician himself thinks about that. After all, imagine how embarrassing that can be.

IMDb

[b]The film involves musicians and fans. In real life, the director of the film Jesse Peretz is also a musician.

In Duncan’s final video (during the credits), there is a copy of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest behind him. First, that novel inspires a number of fans who are as obsessed with Foster Wallace as Duncan is with Tucker Crowe. Second, those obsessed fans are often youngish to middle-aged men, much like Duncan.

According to an interview with Yahoo program Build, during filming, Rose Byrne cut one of her index fingers clean off with a blender. It had to be surgically reattached.[/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juliet,Naked(film
trailer: youtu.be/oMjSNkAaABs

Juliet, Naked [2018]
Directed by Jesse Peretz

[b]The backstory :

Duncan [videoblogging]: Hello, welcome to Can You Hear Me? Your source for all things Tucker Crowe. If you’re here, you’re probably already a fan of Tucker’s music, but if you’re merely Crowe-curious or you clicked on the link by accident, allow me introduce you to one of the most seminal and yet unsung figures of alternative rock. Although Tucker started writing songs in his early teens, his real breakthrough was the release of the 1993 album Juliet. It earned respectable college radio play, but was vastly underappreciated by the mainstream. On the list of Top Heartbreak Albums on RollingStone.com it comes only 43rd, which is a joke. Juliet, quite simply, is a masterpiece. Tucker wrote it after a whirlwind love affair with Julie Beatty, a model and fixture of the Los Angeles demimonde. The termination of their brief tryst simultaneously inspired him and crushed his soul. In June of that same year, 1993, Tucker played an engagement at the Pit Club in Minneapolis, United States, that would prove to be his final show. Last seen exiting the men’s toilets after his first set, Tucker abruptly canceled all future shows, and has never performed publicly again. This snapshot, taken in 2014, is purported to be of Tucker on his sheep farm in Pennsylvania, although there is quite a lot of debate as to its authenticity. The true whereabouts and creative endeavors of Mr. Crowe remain a mystery. Be sure to click on the Mystery link of the side of the page.[/b]

Or, rather, Duncan’s version of it.

[b]Annie [voiceover]: Duncan’s own obsessions dominate my life. And it’s become clear that all along, he’s been in love with another man. Not like that, but in an equally consuming and, quite frankly, really bothersome way. He is the ringleader of a community of 200 middle-aged men who gather together to obsessively deconstruct their hero’s music and attempt to crack his mysteries.

Carly: So, do you guys have kids?
Annie: Oh, no, they’re against Duncan’s religion.
Ros: She’s joking.
Duncan: She’s not, actually. Annie and I decided a long, long time ago, that babies weren’t our jam. The important thing is, we’re happy where we are. I mean, who wants to bring kids into this bloody world?
Annie: Fuck kids.
Duncan: You know? Right?
Annie: Fuck them.[/b]

Annie wants kids

[b]Gina: So, that Greek tragedy thing…?
Duncan: Right. Yeah…I guess my point was that these characters, they’re already bound to their fate. Like Antigone.
Gina: Wow.
Duncan: Or Medea.
Gina: So I have to read Antigone to understand The Wire?
Duncan: Not strictly speaking, but it wouldn’t hurt.

Gina: Okay, I’m going to sound like a wanker, but I’m going to say it anyway. I believe in the power of art. I believe that creativity can change people’s lives.
Duncan: That’s fucking refreshing. I just…I hope you haven’t come to the wrong place.
Gina: Why?
Duncan: The next Bob Dylan could be playing up there, these people wouldn’t look up from their fucking sudoku.

Annie [about new music from Tucker]: I should have warned you that it was so dreary. I didn’t say anything.
Duncan: Dreary?
Annie: Yeah. I mean, I suppose it’s interesting if you’ve heard the finished version, but… What did you think?
Duncan: What did I think? I think it’s a bloody masterpiece, Annie. Dreary? You can’t be serious. Oh, what else is dreary according to you? The Sopranos? Hamlet? Jeez Louise. This is history, Annie. I’m going to write it.
Annie: It is not history, it’s boring versions of songs that you’ve heard a million times before.
Duncan: Oh, my God, you think that’s what this is? This is big for me, that this has happened. And I just don’t want to spend my time in the aftermath of this new information with someone who doesn’t get it. I want to spend it with people who do.

Duncan: 158. Oh, somebody new. This is a long one. “Relic Master” they go by. They claim to have already heard the album. I doubt that. Let’s see what they…“Juliet, Naked is naked all right. A naked attempt to squeeze a few more quid out of a long-dead career.” Sounds like you and he would get along swimmingly.
Annie: She.
Duncan: No, I seriously doubt it’s a woman. We don’t get a lot of lady visitors.
Annie: Well, it is.

Tucker [voiceover from an email to Annie]: Bingo. You nailed it. I couldn’t have explained it better myself. All good things, Tucker Crowe. P.S., the folks on that website, they seem pretty weird, so I’d be grateful if you didn’t pass on the address. Thanks.

Tucker [voiceover from email to Annie]: Yes, it is really me. Although, I can’t think of a real way of proving it to you. How about this…I didn’t see the face of God in a Minneapolis toilet bowl. I haven’t been secretly making R&B albums with Lauryn Hill. I don’t have 200 hours’ worth of material locked in a shed, contrary to what your friends on the website may think. In fact, my guitar hasn’t been out of its case for years. I currently live in the garage behind the house where my son Jackson lives with my ex."

Tucker [voiceover in text to Annie]: What to do if you’ve wasted 15 years of your life? All right, first off, you have to whittle that number down. Subtract all the time spent reading good books, having enjoyable conversations and sleeping, because those are important things. And you should be able to bring that squandered time down to more like 10, and anything under a decade you’re allowed to write off for tax purposes. That’s a joke.

Annie [voiceover in email to Tucker]: My dad died when Ros was only 12, and we’d already lost our mom. So it was just the two of us. By the time my boyfriend and I moved in together, I’d had my share of parenting. Or so I thought. Now, with irritating predictability, I’ve started aching for a child, for all the usual reasons, like wanting to feel unconditional love, as opposed to faint, conditional affection.

Tucker [voiceover in email to Annie]: I’m sorry about that ache. I wish I knew the thing to say. I don’t imagine this is much of a consolation, but I’ve brought a lot of kids into the world, and most of them are just reminders of how I’ve blown it in that department. Sometimes my life looks like an endless streak of staring responsibility directly in the eye, and then running the other way.

Duncan: Hey, how do you even know about Grace?
Lizzie [daughter]: You let it slip to Mom back when you were in love and X-ing or something.
Duncan: Look, I realize it’s an unforgivable chapter of my life, but I’m hoping not to be judged by that alone, okay?
Lizzie: Okay.[/b]

The mysterious Grace.

[b]Annie [voiceover]: Tucker. I’ve just read through this thread and I’ve realized I’ve been sharing thoughts I’ve never said aloud to anybody. That’s not a good sign, is it? I mean, maybe it is, but I’ve told my boyfriend nothing of our little email affair. It’s like I’m dabbling in betrayal.

Ros: You already fancy someone, don’t you? Come on, cough it up. Who is it?
Annie: It’s nobody. It’s just…well, I did…I met someone on the Internet.
Ros: I love it. The Internet. God, you’re finally entering the modern age. Which site was it? One for clever people, no doubt. HornierStories.com?
Annie: Duncan’s website.
Ros: Another Tucker Crowe loser? Oh, Jesus, Annie, are you mental?
Annie: No, it’s weirder than that. It’s actually Tucker Crowe.
Ros: No, it’s not.
Annie: I’m not kidding.
Ros: Tucker Crowe. As in, Duncan’s idol Tucker Crowe.
Annie: Yes. What happened was he read that review I posted.
Ros: This is that syndrome.
Annie: What syndrome?
Ros: Where someone falls in love with their captor.

Tucker [voiceover in email to Annie]: Big news. I’m coming to London.

Annie [on phone]: Hello?
Duncan: Hi, it’s Tucker.
Annie: I’m dying to hear your excuse.
Duncan: Well, it’s…it’s pretty good. Um…I had a heart attack.

Duncan [to Lizzie and Zak]: Annie’s my friend from England. We were supposed to hook up yesterday, but then that didn’t go so well.
Annie: We don’t even know each other…
Duncan: Well, we know each other. We met on a website.
Lizzie: A website?
Annie: Not that kind of website.

Annie [on phone]: It was silly of me to have come. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Duncan: No, it was kind of you to come. Look… one of the big problems with screwing up the first half of your life is, you know, try as you might, you can’t press reset, you know? I mean, I…I can’t get to zero, you know? And I was just wondering if you would…if we could try this one more time again tomorrow?
Annie: Are they still there, your ex-girlfriends? They were very nice.
Duncan: No, no, everybody’s gone. Everybody except Jackson, says Jackson. Here he is. He wants to talk to you.
Jackson: Hi, Annie. I found out what a catheter is.

Tucker: Waterloo station, Jackson. Most famous spot in all of London.
Jackson: Really?
Tucker: For real. I mean, if you’re a Kinks fan.

Annie [after Tucker stumbles into Duncan’s shrine to him]: I can explain this.
Duncan: “Maxwell’s, '89, Bar Astro-Dusseldorf”. Did I play at Dusseldorf?
Annie: It’s not what it looks like. I can explain.
Duncan [pointing to a photograph]: That’s me and my high school chess club.
Annie: Really?
Duncan: Yeah.
Annie: I can explain this to you. I know this looks weird. Remember the review on the website? And the guy…it was a really over-the-top review, and you called him like a sad-sack blogger.
Tucker: Oh, Duncan-something?
Annie: Yes! God. Oh, my God, if he knew that you knew his name…
Tucker: So, that guy is the guy. Oh, that’s your 15 years of…
Annie: Yes! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Bingo. That’s it. That’s it. And this is his room… shrine… temple where he lives and worships you.

Annie: This is Duncan. Duncan Thomson.
Tucker [shaking Duncan’s hand]: Tucker Crowe.
Annie: That’s what I was trying to tell you.
Duncan: And I’m Stevie fucking Wonder. Who do you want to be? Eartha fucking Kitt?

Duncan: If she wants to make a sad spectacle of herself around town by hanging out with some guy old enough to be her father, that’s her business. But mocking me by dragging Tucker into it is just embarrassing.
Gina: She was obviously just trying to wind you up.
Duncan: I know for a fact that there is no son. There were rumors of a daughter w ith a Swedish princess or potentially her cousin, but there’s zero online chatter of a son.
Gina: Did it look like Tucker Crowe?
Duncan: No. God no.
[he looks at a photograph of a much younger Tucker Crowe]
Duncan: Not entirely. Fuck.

Annie: Can I ask you, what’s the deal with Grace?
Tucker: What do you mean?
Annie: Why does her name bother you and the others don’t?
Tucker: It doesn’t bother me. I…I’ve never even met her.
Annie: How’s that possible?

Duncan: There is a possibility that maybe I owe you an apology.
Tucker: Well, when will you know for sure?
Duncan: It occurs to me that there’s no reason for you to claim that you are…he if you were not…he.
Tucker: Well, that’s a start.
Duncan: It’s just… I can’t be certain, you know?
Tucker: Well, I have a passport.

Duncan: I’m sure Annie’s told you, but I am a great admirer of your work, so…
Tucker: Cool.
Duncan: I don’t think that I would be overstating the case to suggest that I am something of a world expert.
Tucker: I’ve read your stuff. It’s…
Duncan: Okay. Wow. You can tell me where I’ve gone wrong.
Tucker: I wouldn’t know where to start.

Duncan [after droning on and on about what he thinks he knows about Tucker]: I know the whole thing left you shattered. And I just want you to know that from that death was born a seminal masterwork.
Tucker: Oh, God, a masterwork?
Duncan: I don’t use that word lightly, sir.
Tucker: All right, I was being really nice, okay? But it’s clear that you don’t know shit.
Duncan: Hey, am a I fan? Guilty as charged. Okay, yes. Am I a little overzealous in my quest for the truth?
Tucker: Listen, man, if you can’t realize that Juliet is a piece of shit…
Duncan: Don’t say that.
Tucker: Yeah, it is.
Duncan: You don’t mean that.

Duncan: Maybe my review of your demos wasn’t exactly correct, but that original album, Tucker? Do you have any idea how much that touches us? How much that has meant to me my whole life? The honesty in your words…
Tucker: Would you stop! It’s not worth the effort.
Duncan: It is to me.

Duncan [getting up to leave]: I’m going to go. I’m going to…This feels like a mistake.
[he walks to the door then stops and turns around]
Duncan: Just one final thing. I think that people like you, people with real talent, you don’t value it because it comes naturally to you. And we never value things that we…that come easily. But I value that album more than maybe anything I’ve ever heard. Not because it’s perfect, but because of what it means to me. Ultimately, I don’t give a shit what it means to you. Art isn’t for the artist no more than water is for the bloody plumber. But thank you. I really, really enjoyed it.

Tucker: Last time I played a show I didn’t even finish it. I was at this club called The Pit, and in between sets I went to the bathroom. And then my ex walks in the door. Julie. She’s holding this baby. And I… and I acted all confused, as if, after we broke up, a million people hadn’t called and told me that she was pregnant, you know? As if her brother hadn’t cursed me out the day the child was born. But she… she held out this little girl and said, you know, “Don’t you want to look at her?”
Annie: Grace?
Tucker: Yeah. Grace. And I looked at her. And then Julie said something, you know, that I didn’t hear. Like, she said… she said something to me about the baby bottle, or she forgot her bag or something. I thought that she was abandoning the child with me. You know? And I just panicked. And I wanted to follow after her, but I… I didn’t think that I could walk out of this club with this baby. There’s all these people out there. So, I…I set Grace down. And then I walked out. I went into the parking lot, and I could hear everybody calling for me, but I… I didn’t go back. And then I couldn’t play any of those songs anymore, you know? After that, I just…I couldn’t play these insipid, self-pitying songs about Julie breaking my heart. You know, they were a joke. And before I know it, a couple of decades have gone by and some doctor hands me…hands me Jackson. I hold him, you know, and I look at him. And I know that this boy…is my last chance.

Tucker [on phone]: Uh, is this Grace?
Grace: Speaking.
Tucker: This is Tucker Crowe.
Grace: Okay. And this is regarding…?

Tucker [on phone]: Listen, I’m sorry for calling you out of the blue but…
Grace: Look, as I said to Lizzie, I have a father already.
Tucker: Oh. Okay. Yeah, right. No, I understand. It’s just, when you say that, do you mean… Do you mean biologically, or…?
Grace: I’m not sure of the distinction you’re making.
Tucker: Yeah. Right. Yeah. Right. Right.
Grace: Whatever it is you’re trying to work out, good luck. But it’s just not going to involve me.
Tucker: Yes. Absolutely. I understand. Thank you.
[Grace hangs up]

Annie: Tucker, I was…It’s silly.
Tucker: What is it?
Annie: What? I was wondering if you would be…if you’d be interested?
Tucker: What do you mean…?
Annie: I’m sorry. In me.
Tucker: In you? In you? What…how?
An nie: Oh, I mean, I…sexually.
Tucker: What do you mean? Like, here? Like right now?
Annie: Oh, no, no. I meant…in the future, later.
Tucker: Yes, definitely. I’m extremely interested.

Annie [to Duncan]: We broke up for a reason…You slept with somebody else because she had the correct response to an album.

Annie [voiceover]: Dear Tucker…I did receive your emails. Congratulations on getting your own place. I’m so sorry that I haven’t replied sooner. I’ve just…I’ve been dealing with some really big life decisions. I moved to London, where I’m house-sitting for a friend of a friend, and I landed a job at a cool, little gallery. Somehow, the world just suddenly feels alive with possibility. I’ve also been seriously considering having a baby on my own. Last week, I finally gathered the nerve to go to a clinic and actually start the process. It’s mental, right? Anyway, nothing’s for certain, but whatever happens I feel I’ll be all right. I can’t believe Lizzie’s boy is already a year old. She must be thrilled you’re coming to visit. If you’d like to steal away for a cup of coffee, it’d be great to see you and catch up. I’d actually love that.

Duncan [voiceover as the end credits roll]: Apologies for my prolonged absence. I have been working through the news at hand and formulating an opinion with the care and judiciousness I believe the moment calls for. I’m speaking, of course, of the fact that Tucker has a new album. It’s called So Where Was I? It’s his first release of new material in 25 years. What is my verdict? Well, to quote another critic: “What is this shite?” We have a song about the pleasures of reading in the afternoon. We have a song about homegrown green beans. There’s a little ditty expounding the joys of being a stepfather. I mean, in short, we have a tragedy. And there’s a drum machine. There’s a drum machine on a Tucker Crowe album. I mean, what the fuck? You may ask, as I did, what caused Tucker to produce this cloying, bloodless, catastrophe? Well, reportedly, Tucker has found love. And I am here to tell you, my friends, it doesn’t suit him.[/b]

For many liberals here [no doubt] reactions to Donald Trump were first born and bred in reactions to Dick Cheney. You might even say that in reacting to Cheney they were just cutting their teeth in preparation for Trump.

Both men are basically the embodiment of America Inc. They are the swamp in Washington. A “deep state” that reflects the nature of crony capitalism in our post modern world. That Trump promised to drain it is just one more instance of irony awash in an American political economy that has never been equalled in fooling most of the people most of the time.

Still, few today will doubt that Trump is in fact the utterly narcissistic blowhard calling the shots in the Oval Office. No one speculates that perhaps it is MIke Pence who is pulling the strings [and calling the shots] behind the curtain. Back then though some were arguing that for all practical purposes Dick Cheney was the President of the United States. At least insofar as basic economic and foreign policy issues were concerned

Then the part that revolves around the gap between what unfolds up on the screen and what was actually exchanged between these [mostly] men in “real life”. There are conversations between the characters that can only be verified if one of them confirmed them. And even then only if they aren’t just lying through their teeth.

It’s all about the gap between government as it is encompassed in many civics text and the way in which power is actually manifested out in the real world. Any number of liberals among us will still insist that this is all about political ideals and moral integrity. About who is really for and against “the people”. And, sure, given the complexity of human interactions, that is not something that can ever be entirely effaced. Especially in regard to any number of “social” issues. But those parts that Marx and Engels [among others] were more interested in are, still, in the view of some, beyond the purview of the media industrial complex represented by the likes of [among others] MSNBC, the New York Times and the Washington Post.

IMDb

[b]Christian Bale said that due to the improvisational directing style of Adam McKay, he had to do more research for this film than any other film he’s done. In order to ad-lib in character, Bale not only needed to have Dick Cheney’s mannerisms and vernacular down, but he also had to know which policies, their instances, and abbreviations the Vice President would be aware of at any given moment in his life.

Christian Bale gained 45 pounds, shaved his head, bleached his eyebrows and exercised to thicken his neck for his role as Cheney. Bale said he achieved his hefty physique for the film by eating a lot of pies.

This is the first movie in which the focus is on a real life US Vice President who did not become President.

The more Adam McKay plunged into Dick Cheney’s political career, the more he realized that he had a lasting and considerable influence on contemporary American politics. His mission, in his eyes, was to write a scenario that goes beyond political beliefs and addresses universal themes.

Like many Americans, Adam McKay knew little of the elusive - and seemingly impenetrable - Dick Cheney who was almost co-chairing George W. Bush from 2001 to 2009. And that, in turn, upset the course of the American history, if not forever, at least for decades to come.[/b]

trivia at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt6266538/tr … tt_trv_trv
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vice_(2018_film
trailer: youtu.be/g09a9laLh0k

Vice [2018]
Written and directed by Adam McKay

[b]Title card: The following is a true story. Or as true as it can be given that Dick Cheney is one of the most secretive leaders in history. But we did our fucking best.

Narrator [on the meeting in the White House on 9/11]: By all accounts of what people saw in that room on that terrible day, there was confusion, fear, uncertainty, but Dick Cheney saw something else that no one else did… he saw an opportunity. As the world becomes more and more confusing, we tend to focus on the things that are right there in front of us. While ignoring the massive forces that actually change and shape our lives. And with people working longer and longer hours, for less and less wages, when we do have free time, the last thing we want is complicated analysis of our government, lobbying, international trade agreements and tax bills. So it’s no surprise that when a monotone bureaucratic Vice President came to power. We hardly noticed. As he achieved a position of authority that very few leaders in the history of our nation ever have. Forever changing the course of history for millions and millions of lives. And he did it like a ghost. With most people having no idea who he is or where he came from.

Narrator: How does a man go on to become who he is? Well it starts in 1963. When Dick’s best girl Lynne was getting straight A’s at Colorado College. Lynne had helped Dick get a scholarship at Yale, where he did way more drinking than class attending. Pretty soon Dick got the boot. So he went back home to Wyoming to work as a lineman for the state. Back then they would have been called a guy like him a ne’er-dowell. In today’s parlance they would just call him a dirt bag.

Lynne [to Dick]: You’re sorry? One time is “I’m sorry.” Two times makes me think I’ve picked the wrong man! They kicked your ass out of Yale for drinking and fighting! Now are you just a lush who’s going to hang power lines for the state? Are we going to live in a trailer and have ten children!? Is that the plan?!

Dick: I love you, Lynne.
Lynne: Then prove it! I can’t go to a big Ivy League school! I can’t run a company or be Mayor! That’s just the way the world is for a girl! I need you! And right now you’re a big fat piss soaked zee-ro! Can you change? Or am I wasting my goddamn time?
Dick: I won’t ever disappoint you again.

Title card: “Beware the quiet man. For while others speak, he watches. And while others act, he plans. And when they finally rest…he strikes.” Anonymous.

Narrator: Donald Rumsfeld, or Rummy as they called him, was the former captain of the Princeton wrestling team and an elite navy jet pilot. Most Congressmen used their power like an axe, Rumsfeld used his like a master of the Butterfly knives. And like any master if you got in his way, he would cut you.

Narrastor: Roger Ailes, founder of FOX News. He first pitched the idea as conservative news when he worked for Nixon as a media advisor.

Dick: Roger wants Nixon to start a Republican TV news network.
Rumsfeld: Forget it. Roger knows TV. But he doesn’t know politics.

Narrator: For a man like Donald Rumsfeld he only wanted three things from his lackey: he had to keep his mouth shut, do what he was told and always be loyal. [/b]

His lackey here being Dick Cheney.

[b]Rumsfeld: So is it a yes or a no?
Dick: It’s a yes.
Rumsfeld: You don’t even know what the question is do you?
Dick: I, uh, I assume it was…
Rumsfeld: No, no, no. Good. That’s exactly the kind of “yes” I was looking for.

Narrator: Cheney had always been a so-so student and a mediocre athlete. But now finally he had found his life’s calling, he would be a dedicated and humble servant to power.

Rumsfeld [to Cheney]: Because of the conversation Nixon and Kissinger are having right behind this door, five feet away from us in a few days, 10 thousand miles away a rain of 750 pound bombs dropped from B-52s flying at twenty thousand feet will hit villages and towns across Cambodia…thousands will die and the world will change either for the worse or the better. That’s the kind of power that exists in this squat little ugly building. But screw Kissinger, he’s overrated. Come on!

Dick: So, what do we believe?
Rumsfeld [laughing harder and harder]: “What do we believe?” Good one Cheney! Good one!

Rumsfeld [after Nixon resigns]: So what’s the plan?
Dick: The plan? Well the plan is to take over the damn place…
Rumsfeld: Who lit a fire under your ass?
Dick: I haven’t flipped cards in a long time Don.

Narrator [On Cheney pitching an idea to President Ford]: One of Dick Cheney’s super powers, was the ability to make the most wild and extreme ideas sound measured and professional.

Voice on the radio: They’re calling it the Halloween Massacre. Donald Rumsfeld has replaced Secretary of Defense James Slessinger. And Dick Cheney has been chosen as the…
Lynne: …the youngest Chief of Staff in history! It’s like a dream.
Dick: It’s real. And Don is the youngest Secretary of Defense ever.

Narrator: And as the new Chief of Staff and with the Presidency weakened by Watergate, Dick Cheney wanted to find out exactly how much power did the President have. Antonin Scalia, a young lawyer with the justice department who would later go on to serve on the Supreme Court, rocked Dick’s world.

Scalia: Have you heard of the theory of the unitary executive?
Dick: No, tell me about it.
Scalia: It’s an interpretation a few, like myself happen to believe, of Article two of the Constitution that vests the President with absolute executive authority. And I mean absolute.

Narrator: The Unitary Executive Theory. Certain legal scholars believe that if the President does anything it must be legal because it’s the President. To hell with checks and balances, especially during times of war. This was the power of kings, pharaohs, dictators. Dick Cheney was a foot soldier in the power games of Washington DC, but with the Unitary Executive Theory, he could become Galactus, devourer of planets. But then it was Election Day and there was one big problem…[/b]

Jimmy Carter is now the President elect.

[b] Dick [to Lynne]: I don’t want anyone to panic. But I do believe I have to go to the hospital. Now.

Narrator: A hard wind of change had been blowing through America, civil rights, Roe versus Wade, environmentalism. But there was a part of the country that was angry at this change and wanted it to stop. And then big money families like the Kochs and the Coors that were sick of paying income taxes, rolled into Washington DC and started writing fat checks to fund right wing think tanks that would change the way many Americans looked at the world.[/b]

CATO, The Heritage Foundation, The American Enterprise Institute etc.

[b]Narrator: Finally in 1980, this unlikely revolution of the super rich and white conservatives found its face It was the fucking 1980’s, and it was a hell of a time to be Dick Cheney.

Bush Sr.: Dick. I just wanted to say thank you for getting the House not to override the President’s veto of the fairness doctrine.
Dick: Not a problem. Happy to get rid of any big government regulations.
Narrator: The fairness doctrine was a law from the forties that required any broadcast TV or radio news to present both sides of an issue equally. Its repeal would lead to the rise of opinion news…

News anchor: …And eventually to the realization of Roger Ailes’ dream: Fox News. Which would go on to dominate all other news and swing America even more to the right.

Lynne: Can you feel it Dick? Half the room wants to be us and the other half fears us. I know George is up next but after that, who knows? She rubs her hand against his back.
Dick: I respect the hell out of Reagan…But no one’s really shown the world the true power of the American Presidency… [/b]

Next up: The gay daughter. Then the fake closing credits.

[b]Lynne: Who was on the phone?
Dick: It was someone from George Bush’s son’s campaign.
Lynne: Jeb?
Dick: No. George W… Jeb’s Florida.
Lynne: So what did they want?
Dick: They want to talk to me about being his running mate. They didn’t say it outright but I’ve made that call myself and that’s what they want.
Lynne: Vice President is a nothing job.
Dick: I’m just going to hear them out. I owe his Father that…
Lynne: VP just waits for the President to die. You’ve said it yourself.

George W: So listen, I’ve got a lack of experience problem in the polls and you’re one of the most experienced guys around. You wanna jump on board and be my Vice?
Dick: I’m honored.
George W: Don’t be honored. Fucking say yes Mr. Brass tacks.
Dick: I have to say no at this time.

Lynne: What are you thinking? I can tell you’re thinking.
Narrator: What was Dick Cheney thinking?
Dick: I’m thinking I’ve never seen anything like this.
Narrator: How many steps ahead was he looking? How did he feel about the opportunity that was in front of him? There are certain moments, that are so delicate. Like a teacup and saucer stacked on a teacup and a saucer stacked on a teacup and a saucer. And on and on. This moment could fall in any direction and change everything. Sadly there is no real way to know exactly what was going on with the Cheneys at this history changing moment. We can’t just snap into a Shakespearian Soliloquy that dramatizes every feeling and emotion. That’s just not the way the world works.

David: Dick we’re asking for all financials, all medical, all interviews, press, writings, legal records, family medical and family financials. Any more “comprehensive” and we’d need a rubber glove. Sorry Liz.
Liz: That wasn’t offensive. Should I be offended?
Lynne: I’m offended Dave wasn’t worried I’d be offended.
Liz: Oh, a rubber glove. Like a proctology exam. That’s…that’s disgusting.

Narrator: David Addington, Dicks main legal advisor and a huge believer in the Unitary Executive Theory. He was known for telling people to their face that they were stupid.
David [on phone]: So the Vice Presidency is part of the executive branch and because the VP casts tie breaking votes in the Senate, also part of the legislative branch, right?
Dick: Okay?
David: That means the VP is also not part of the executive or the legislative.
Dick: So one could argue neither branch has oversight of the VP?
David: Not only can “one” argue that, I’m arguing it right now.

George W: No. I meant are you going to be my VP? I want you.
Dick: I’m CEO of a large company. I’ve been Secretary of Defense, Chief of Staff… The Vice Presidency is a mostly symbolic job…
George W: Right, right. I can see how that wouldn’t be enticing to you.
Dick: However… the Vice Presidency is also defined by the President. If we were to have a different understanding…Maybe I could handle the more mundane parts of the job. Managing the bureaucracy, overseeing the military, energy, foreign policy…
George W: Go on, I’m listening.

Dick: And one last thing. My daughter Mary…
George W: Right…Rove told me she likes girls.
Dicvk: I know you’ll have to run against gay marriage for the south and the mid-west. But it’s my daughter and that line in drawn in concrete.
George W: So long as you don’t mind us pushing that messaging. Sure, we’re okay with you sitting that one out. I think it’s important for all the Marys in the world, you know? No problemo.
Dick: Then I believe this can work.

Narrator [after Cheney agrees to become Bush’s VP]: Dick never filled out his own 83 question questionnaire. Full medical records were never handed over. No tax or corporate filings, nothing.

Libby: Gore rescinded his concession. They’re claiming Florida is too close to call.
Dick: He can’t fucking rescind his concession.
Libby: He just did. There’s going to be a recount. What should we do?
Dick: We play it like we’ve already won. Which means we need to staff the White House. Libby: Who’s leading the transition team?
Dick: I’ll do it.
Libby: Um, that’s not really something a Vice President does, is it?
Dick: It is now.

Dick: Halliburton gave us a 26 million dollar exit package. Twice as much as we were hoping for.
Lynne: They’re no dummies.

Narrator: December 12th 2000. Antonin Scalia, remember him? And the Supreme Court stopped the state of Florida from completing their recount. George W Bush and Dick Cheney were going to the Whitehouse by a margin of 537 votes.

Dick: Scooter, why don’t you let everyone know the lay of the land?
Libby: Of course. As you all know, I’m Scooter Libby, Dick’s Chief of Staff…But I’m also a special adviser to the President. Mary Matalin will serve as an adviser to the VP and to Bush. David Addington, Dick’s main legal counsel, will play center field on all matters relating to executive power. The President has Alberto Gonzales, Karl Rove and Karen Hughes as his team. Quite frankly Gonzales has no clue, Rove is a hack and Hughes should be in double A ball. So we will have fairly unobstructed access to the Oval Office. We will be automatically BCC’d on all emails the President receives or sends. As well as have access to his schedule the second it is set or changed.
Dick: We’ll also be receiving the daily intelligence briefing before the President so we can get inside the decision curve.
Rumsfeld: Jesus. Bush approved all of this?
Dick: We have…an understanding.

Libby: Okay, so over at the Pentagon we’ve got Don as Secretary of Defense. Paul Wolfowitz, who worked with Team B in the Ford days, as Undersecretary of Defense.
Dick: Let’s check what kind of plans they have to invade Iraq, okay Paul?
Paul: It’s already in the works.
Libby: We’ve got Ashcroft at the DOJ. State seems to be the only tricky department. That’s Colin Powell and his guy Lawrence Wilkerson.
Paul: We’ve got Bolton over there. He’s a loose cannon but loyal.
Libby: And this list of “our” people doesn’t include about 800 others lobbyists and industry insiders we placed in the regulatory jobs.

Narrator: Dick Cheney had used an old connection with former wrestling coach and speaker of the house Dennis Hastert to get an office at the House of Representatives. The house is where revenue bills originate and he wanted to be near the money faucet. And not one but two offices in the Senate. One at the Pentagon. And later when Cheney’s team was combing through the intelligence on Iraq, a conference room at the CIA.

Narrator: Cheney was everywhere. But the most powerful place in all of D.C. was a nondesript conferencec room at a relatively new think tank that had become the place to be in Washington DC. Americans for Tax Reform. Grover Norquist ran the anti-tax group with huge funding from the Koch brothers network, big oil and tobacco. His Wednesday meeting as it was called had become the center of the Republican world.

Norquist: Let’s talk about the estate tax. This has been hard to eliminate because the tax only applies to estates larger than 2 million dollars. But marketing guru Frank Luntz is here to help…
Luntz: Hello all. Getting regular people to support cutting taxes for the very wealthy has always been very difficult. But I think we’ve had a break through…

Luntz [at foucus group]: The Estate Tax kicks in for anyone inheriting over $2 Million dollars. How many of you have a problem with that?
[One man raises his hand].
Luntz: Now, how many of you would have a problem with something called a “death tax?”
[all twelve hands are raised]

Narrator: So with one of the biggest media and political machines every created behind him, Cheney was able to squash action Global Warming, cut taxes for the super rich and gut regulations for massive corporations.

Narrator: The details of Cheney’s meetings with the energy CEO’s were never disclosed. But a freedom of information request did provide some documents, including a map of Iraq’s oil fields with all of the oil companies that would be interested in acquiring them if “somehow” they were ever to become available. And then, it happened. [/b]

9/11.

[b]Narrator [commenting on the meeting in the underground bunker at the White House on 9/11]: Now we don’t know what exactly what the people in that room were thinking, but it’s safe to assume that at least one person wondered why, in the midst of the most fateful day in American history, was Dick Cheney talking to his lawyer?

Tenet: We’ve picked up chatter from wellknown Al Qaeda operatives celebrating today’s attack.
Rumsfeld: We shouldn’t rule out Iraq.
Rice: What’s Al Qaeda’s Leader’s name?
Tenet: His name is Osama Bin Laden
Clarke: But this is clearly Al Qaeda. I’ve been tracking their movements for years. They’re fingerprints are all over this.
Rumsfeld: Iraq has all the good targets.
Clarke: Iraq has nothing to do with this.
Rumsfeld: Richard you don’t know that for sure.
Clarke: I do know that.

Narrator: So while Powell, the CIA and their international coalition toppled the Taliban and took Afghanistan in a matter of days…Cheney had found something much more powerful than missiles or jet planes.

Bybee [on phone linkup]: So David tells me you’re looking for executive authority. John Yoo is definitely your man.
Dick: The war we’re now fighting will require resources and abilities that the, uh, current interpretation of the law impedes.
David: DAVID ADDINGTON The Vice President believes that it is the duty as Commander in Chief to protect that Nation. And that no other obligation whether it be Congress or existing treaties supersedes that duty… How do you feel about that statement?
Yoo: I couldn’t agree more.

Narrator: John Yoo’s first legal opinion allowed the US government to monitor every citizen’s phone calls, texts and emails without a warrant. It was a giant legal leap based on sketchy law at best. But their masterpiece, their Moby Dick if you will, was the torture memo.

Tenet; But what about the Geneva Convention?
Dick: We believe the Geneva Convention is open to… interpretation.
Tenet: What exactly does that mean?
Addington: Stress positions, water boarding, confined spaces, dogs.
Rumsfeld: We’re calling it enhanced interrogation.
George W: We’re sure none of this fits under the definition of torture?
Addington: The U.S. doesn’t torture.
Cheney: Therefore, if the U.S. does it, by definition, it can’t be torture.

Narrator: But torture and privacy laws weren’t the only laws Cheney rewrote with John Yoo. They had a full menu of opinions challenging Constitutional and International law.[/b]

Classic “definitional logic”.

[b]Cue the metaphor:
A fancy waiter lists the specials to Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz and Addington at a lavish table:
Waiter: Tonight we are offering the enemy combatant: whereby someone is not a criminal or a prisoner of war. Which gives them no protection under the law. We are also have Extreme Rendition where suspects are abducted without record, on foreign soil and taken to foreign prisons in countries that torture. We have Guantanamo Bay which is very, very complicated but allows you to operate outside the purview of due process on land that isn’t technically US soil, but is under our control.
Rumsfeld: That sounds delicious!
Waiter: And there is a very fresh and delicious War Powers Act interpretation, which gives the executive branch broad power to attack any country or person that might possibly be a threat. Finally for desert we have the fact that under the unitary executive theory if the President does anything it makes it legal. In other words you can do whatever the fuck you want. So which would you like gentlemen?
Dick: We’ll have them all.
Waiter: Excellent choice.

Wolfowitz: The American people know we’re at war but they don’t understand against who. Rumsfel: They want a country. It’s simpler. Cleaner.
Addington: That would certainly help us legally.
Dick: Looks like it’s time to take Iraq.

Dick: DICK It’s called the Office of Special Plans. Tenet is not yet serious enough about the threat Saddam poses in the GWOT, or global war on terror. But I can promise you this intelligence group will be.
George W: That’s an excellent idea. I’ve been wanting to take that motherfucker Saddam down for a long time.[/b]

Time to cook the books.

[b]Feith: I’ve got something! Here’s a report that Mohamed Atta one of the hijackers may have met with an Iraqi spy in Prague. It’s from Czech intelligence and they question its credibility…
Wolfowitz: I’ve been to Prague. They question everything. Who wants to be an “unnamed source?”
Feith:Make sure to get in the phrase “we don’t want the smoking gun to be a mushroom cloud.” It focus grouped through the roof!
[later on TV]
Rice: The problem with Saddam is that there will always be uncertainty about when he will acquire nuclear weapons. But we don’t want the smoking gun to be a mushroom cloud.

Dick [whispering to George W after Powell argues against invading Iraq]: Are you going to take Saddam down or not. You’re the President. War is yours. Not the U.N. Or some coalition. Do not share powers that are yours alone.
George W: George, make sure Powell sees the intelligence. Colin I want you to make that speech. I’m the President and I want this to happen!

Narrator: That classified document described a terrorist named Abu Musab Al- Zarqawi who had started as a drug dealer and pimp before becoming fully radicalized in a Jordanian prison. Zarqawi went to meet Bin Laden in Afghanistan. But Zarqawi had vowed to kill all Shia Muslims and Bin Laden’s mother was Shia, so the meeting didn’t go well…After the US invaded Afghanistan Zarqawi set up shop in Iraq. It was the only connection Cheney had between Al Qaeda and Iraq, and Cheney made sure Zarqawi’s name was all over Powell’s speech.

Narrator: By the time we invaded Iraq 70% of Americans thought that Saddam Hussein was involved in 9/11. Later Colin Powell would call the speech the most shameful moment of his life.

George W: My fellow citizens, at this hour, American and coalition forces are in the early stages of military operations to disarm Iraq, to free its people and to defend the world from grave danger. On my orders, coalition forces have begun striking selected targets of military importance to undermine Saddam Hussein’s ability to wage war. These are opening stages of what will be a broad and concerted campaign. To all of the men and women of the United States armed forces now in the Middle East, the peace of a troubled world and the hopes of an oppressed people now depend on you. [/b]

Next up: Mission accomplished.

[b]George W: Ladies and Gentlemen…Major Combat operations in Iraq have ended. In the Battle of Iraq, the United States and our allies have prevailed.

General: We have concerns over Halliburton KBR’s billing practices. As you know, the no-bid contracts they received were quite sizable and now…
Rumsfeld: Well, we’re not concerned. Are we?
Dick: Not at all.
Wolfowitz: The Secretary of Defense and the Vice President just said they’re not concerned. Now can we please talk about Iran?

Dick: This Joe Wilson asshole is questioning our intelligence in the New York Times? What’s his wife’s name?
Libby: Valerie Plame. I confirmed it. She’s undercover CIA.
Dick: Leak it…

Narrator: Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi had taken his fame from Powell’s UN speech and taken it into his own new thing. The Islamic state of Iraq and Levant, or ISIS. And because that intelligence somehow found itself on the bottom of a stack of papers, Zarqawi had a whole year to do whatever the hell he wanted. And what he wanted was carnage. Shia versus Sunni, the West versus Islam and death versus life. And on top of that US forces couldn’t find any WMD’s or nuclear programs in Iraq. Turns out that Saddam and his son’s mostly liked cocaine and American movies from the 80’s.

Leahy: Hey Dick. I hope there’s no hard feelings about us investigating the no-bid Iraq contracts for Halliburton. Just doing my job.
Dick: Go fuck yourself.

Rumsfeld [on phone]: Listen, if we can just get an air bombardment in Iraq, it’ll make a statement and give us political cover.
Dick: It’s over Don.
Rumsfeld: What’s that?
Dick: It’s over. The President wants you to step down. He appreciates your service.
Rumsfeld: Does Bush’s kid want me out or do you?
Dick: I can’t win every fight Don.
Rumsfeld: You are a little piece of shit. Wow, how did you become such a cold son of a bitch. Dick: I’m sorry Don. I really am.
Rumsfeld: You know how I know you’re not? Because I wouldn’t be.
[a long pause]
Rumsfeld: Do you think they’ll prosecute us? [/b]

Next up: the narrator.

[b]Narrator [to the camera]: They say my heart could give him another ten years. Cheney doesn’t like to refer to it as someone else’s heart, he likes to refer to it as his new heart. And even though I’m dead, it still makes me feel pretty shitty.

Martha Raddatz: Two-thirds of Americans say the Iraq war is not worth fighting. And their looking at the value gained at the cost of American lives. And Iraqi lives.
Dick: So?
Martha: So…don’t you care what the American People think?
Dick: No…uh…I think you can’t be, uh, blown off course.
[he then turns to addrsss the camera]
Dick: I can feel your recriminations and your judgement. And I am fine with it. If you want to be loved, go be a movie star. The world is as you find it. And you gotta deal with that reality. And there are monsters in this world. We saw 3,000 innocent people burned to death, by those monsters. And yet, you object, when I refuse to kiss those monsters on the cheek and say, “pretty please.” You answer me this, What terrorist attack would you let go forward so you wouldn’t seem like a mean and nasty fella? I will not apologize for keeping your families safe. And I will not apologize for doing what needed to be done, so your loved ones can sleep peacefully at night. It has been my honor to be your servant. You chose me and I did what you asked.[/b]

Then the inevitable title cards:

[b]In the years following the invasion of Iraq, Halliburton stock rose 500%.

The Bush-Cheney White House claimed to have lost 22 million emails, including millions that were written in the run up to the Iraq war.

It was found that there were “Blackout” periods, when there were no emails available from the office of Vice President Cheney.

The memos Yoo wrote on torture and warrantless surveillance give the President almost unlimited power under the unitary executive theory. These memos are in the Justice Department’s computers to this day. Any President can still cite them if he or she wishes.[/b]

You might be one of the greatest pianists in the world. But if you are black and you’re playing in the Deep South, you’re going to need access to the Green Book. Not to be confused with the infamous little black book…or Mao’s little red book. It’s green. But it’s green because, well, it was written by Victor Hugo Green. And it’s really all about being black and white in America “down there” before the Civil Rights movement really kicked into high gear.

Or, rather, “down there” in particular.

Here the black man – Dr. Donald Shirley – is the educated, cultured, sophisticated character while the white man - Frank “Tony Lip” Vallelonga – is from a “deep-down-inside-the-belly-of-the- beast” working class community. He was a bouncer in a nightclub. The Copacabana. Interacting with any number of folks from “connected” families.

It was called “The Negro Motorist Green Book”. It’s function was to enlighten black folks as to where it was okay [safe] to go in any particular city or town. First “down there” but then eventually from coast to coast. North. South. East. West. And the whole point of the movie is to take these disparate characters through a set of experiences that manages to change both of them. One more so than the other. But you tell me which.

Above all else, it demonstrates how one’s “sense of self” can be profoundly shaped and molded over time given new and different sets of circumstances.

Sound familiar?

This is a tale of how others expect you to behave in a certain way because from their point of view the stereotypes are actually true.

Based on a true story. But one that is interpreted from different points of view. Not unlike our reaction to reality itself.

IMDb

[b]Upon the film’s release, the Shirley family objected to the truthfulness of the film, claiming that Tony and Doc were not friends; that there “was an employer-employee relationship”. In January, 2019, audio recordings of an interview with Don Shirley emerged, in which he stated, “I trusted him implicitly… You see… not only was [Tony] my driver, we never had an employer/employee relationship. You don’t have time for that bullshit. My life is in this man’s hands!.. So you’ve got to be friendly with one another.”

Nick Vallelonga pulled a fast one in hiring his real life family members to play the onscreen family members. He let Viggo Mortensen believe Peter Farrelly had cast them, but suggested to Farrelly that Viggo had vouched for them as actors. The two only figured out the truth a month into the press tour.

The real Tony Lip is best known for playing Carmine Lupertazzi on The Sopranos and has had roles in several Martin Scorsese movies.

Viggo Mortensen would play Tony Lip’s Sopranos episodes in the background while getting ready in the morning, to get into his rhythms of speech and accent.

To interpret the members of the Vallelonga family, Peter Farrelly appealed to the Vallelonga themselves. Nick Vallelonga, who plays a mafia godfather in the film, also introduced the director to his father’s friends. These add a touch of authenticity to the scenes of Copacabana, although many of them had never played comedy. Linda Cardellini also wore the bracelet and the ring that belonged to her character. [/b]

trivia at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt6966692/tr … tt_trv_trv
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Book_(film
trailer: youtu.be/QkZxoko_HC0

Green Book [2018]
Directed by Peter Farrelly

[b]Lip: I, uh… I think I got the wrong address, but, uh, is there a doctor’s office in here? A doctor’s office? Dr. Shirley?
Woman [at Carnegie Hall]: You have the correct address. Dr. Shirley lives upstairs, above the Hall.

Lip: I thought, uh… I thought I was going to an office. They said a doctor needed a driver.
Donald: That’s all they told you?
Lip: Yeah.
Donald: Actually, it’s a bit more complicated than that.

Donald: Well, first of all, Tony, I’m not a medical doctor. I’m a musician.
Lip: You mean, like, songs?
Donald: Yes. And I’m about to embark on a concert tour, the majority of which will be down south.
Lip: Atlantic City.
Donald: No. The Deep South. First, we’re starting in the Midwest, and then we’re taking a hard left. Kentucky, North Carolina, Tennessee, and on down through the Delta. Do you foresee any issues in working for a black man?
Lip: No. No, no, no. It was just the other day, me and the wife had a couple of colored guys over at the house. For…for drinks.[/b]

Of course we know the gist of what really happened then.

[b]Donald: But let me be crystal clear. I’m not just hiring a chauffeur. I need someone who can handle my itinerary. Be a personal assistant. I need a valet. I need someone who can launder my clothes and shine my shoes.
Lip [stands up, shakes his head and turns to leave]: Good luck, Doc.

Donald: Tony. I had my record label ask around town to find me the right man. Your name came up more than once. You’ve impressed several people with your…innate ability to handle trouble. And that is why I called and inquired about your availability.
Lip: Okay, here’s the deal. I got no problem being on the road with you. But I ain’t no butler. I ain’t ironing no shirts, and I’m not polishing nobody’s shoes. You need somebody to get you from point A to point B? You need someone to make sure there’s no problems along the way? And believe me, you and the Deep South, there’s gonna be problems. So, if you want me, it’s a buck and a quarter a week. Or go hire that little Chink just pranced out of here. See how far you get.
Donald: Well, Mr. Vallelonga, thank you for stopping by.

Dee [Dolores, Lip’s wife]: I’m dying to hear. What happened with the doctor interview?
Lip: He ain’t a real doctor. He’s a piano player.
Dee: Well, I don’t understand. Why did they say that he was a doctor?
Lip: I don’t know. I think he’s, like, a doctor of, uh, piano playing or something.
Dee: You can be that?
Lip: I guess. He lives on top of Carnegie Hall. You should’ve seen this place, Dee. It was filled with statues and all kinds of fancy crap. And he was sitting on top of a friggin’ throne all dressed up like, uh, like the king of the jungle bunnies.
Dee: He’s colored? Well, you wouldn’t last a week with him.
Lip: For the right money, I would.

Lip: What’d he say?
Dee [after talking to Donald on the phone]: He wanted to know if I’d be okay with him taking my husband away from his family for two months. He said he’d pay you what you asked for.
Lip: It’s good money. We need it. I can’t be eating 26 hot dogs every day.

Man [handing Lip a copy of the Green Book]: This is the book I was telling you about. Now, sometimes you guys are staying in the same hotel, sometimes you’re not.

Dee’s brother: So, what’d my sister have to say about you being gone for three weeks?
Lip: Eight weeks.
Brother: Ten to one, you slap this moolie out, you come home in under a month.

Dee: Did you go to the AAA for the maps?
Lip: Yes. No. I mean, the record companies gave me the maps and the itinerary, and this thing.
Dee: “The Negro Motorist’s Green Book”.
Lip: Yeah, it lists all the places coloreds can stay down south. Like a… you know, traveling while black.
Dee: “Traveling while black”?
Lip: Yeah, if you’re black and you gotta travel, for some reason.
Dee: They got a special book for that?
Lip: I guess.

Lip: Hey, when I was in the Army, I knew a guy from Pittsburgh. Except he called it “Titsburgh.” 'Cause he said all the women there had huge tits.
Donald: That’s absurd. Why would women in Pittsburgh have larger breasts than, say, women in New York?
Lip: Guess we’ll find out, huh?

Lip: Hey, you know, when you first hired me, my wife went out and bought one of your records. The one about the orphans.
Donald: Orphans?
Lip: Yeah. Cover had a bunch of kids sitting around a campfire.
Donald: Orpheus.
Lip: Yeah.
Donald: “Orpheus in the Underworld”. It’s based on a French opera. And those weren’t children on the cover. Those were demons in the bowels of hell.
Lip: No shit? Must have been naughty kids.[/b]

Let’s just say that color isn’t the only gap between them. In his own way, Dr. Shirley can be equally insufferable.

[b]Donald: One more thing. We’ll be attending many events before and after the concerts. Interacting with some of the wealthiest and most highly educated people in the country. It is my feeling that your diction, however charming it may be in the tristate area, could use some… finessing.
Lip: Diction…like in what way?
Donald: Like in the only way the word is ever used. Your intonation, inflection, your choice of words.
Lip: Hey, I got my own problems. Now I gotta worry about what people think - about the way I talk?
Donald: There are simple techniques I can teach you that are quite effective. I can help you.
Lip: I…I don’t need no goddamn help. People don’t like the way I talk, they can go take a shit.
Donald: The profanity is another issue.
Lip: Why are you breaking my balls?
Donald: Because you can do better, Mr. Vallelonga. Which brings me to one more point. As the guest of honor, I’ll be introduced when entering these intimate events. You will be introduced as well. In my humble opinion, “Vallelonga” may be difficult to pronounce. So I was thinking…Valle would be more appropriate. Tony Valle. Short and sweet.
Lip: Eh… nah. They got a problem with Vallelonga, they can call me Tony Lip.
Donald: These are genteel people. “Tony the Lip” may be a little… worldly for them.
Lip: Well, then it’s Tony Vallelonga. All these high-class people, so much smarter than me, with their intelligence and speaking abilities, you’re telling me they can’t pronounce my name? They don’t like it, they can shove it up their ass and I’ll just wait outside.
Donald: A sound compromise.

Woman [introducing Donald]: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we are privileged to present a great American artist. He gave his first public performance at the age of three. At age 18, at Arthur Fiedler’s invitation, our guest made his concert debut with the Boston Pops. He holds doctorates in psychology, in music and in the liturgical arts. And he has performed at the White House twice in the past 14 months. He is a true virtuoso.

Donald: I’ve been looking for you.
Lip: Yeah, sorry. The guys were having a little game.
Donald: Next time you need extra money, just ask me.
Lip: It’s more fun winning it.
Donald: And what if you lost?
Lip: Shooting craps and cards. I don’t lose, Doc. I don’t lose.
Donald: So stooping down in the gravel pitching dice for pocket change makes you a winner?
Lip: What are you giving me shit for? Everybody was doing it.
Donald: They didn’t have a choice whether to be inside or out. You did.

Donald: So, where did this “Tony the Lip” moniker come from?
Lip: It’s not Tony the Lip. It’s Tony Lip. One word. I got it when I was kid, 'cause my friend said I was the best bullshit artist in the Bronx.
Donald: It doesn’t bother you that your friends, the people closest to you, consider you a liar?
Lip: Who said “liar”? I said “bullshit artist.”
Donald: And what’s the difference?
Lip: 'Cause I don’t lie. Ever. I’m just good at talking people into… you know, doing things they don’t want to do. By bullshitting them.
Donald: And you’re proud of that?
Lip: Well, it got me this job.

Lip [listening to Aretha Franklin on the car radio]: You know this song.
Donald: I don’t think so, no.
Lip: How could you not know this music? Aretha Franklin. Chubby Checker, Little Richard, Sam Cooke. I mean, come on, Doc. These are your people.

Donald: I’ve never had fried chicken in my life.
Lip: Who you bullshitting? You people love the fried chicken, the grits and the collard greens. I love it, too. Negro cooks used to make it all the time when I was in the Army.
Donald: You have a very narrow assessment of me, Tony.
Lip: Yeah, right? I’m good.
Donald: No. No, you’re not good. You’re bad. I’m saying, just because other Negroes enjoy certain types of music, it doesn’t mean I have to. Nor do we all eat the same kind of food.
Lip: Whoa. Wait a minute. If you said all guineas like pizza and spaghetti and meatballs, I’m not gonna get insulted.
Donald: You’re missing the point. For you to make the assumption that every Negro…
Lip: Hey, you want some or not?

Lip: Honest to God, Doc, I don’t understand you. You could have drunk here. You got a whole bottle.
Donald: I just needed some air.
Lip: Air? Do you know where you are?!
Donald: Does geography really matter?
Lip: What?
Donald: If I was in a bar in your neighborhood, would the conversation be any different?

Lip [after an “incident” back at the plantation]: Why don’t I just pull over? You can piss in the woods.
Donald: Animals go in the woods.
Lip: It’s gonna be at least 20 minutes, I gotta go all the way back to your motel.
Donald: So let’s just get there so I can go back and finish the show.
Lip: See, that’s the difference between you and me. I’d have zero problem going in the woods.
Donald: I’m well aware.
Lip: What are you sore at me for? I don’t make the rules down here.
Donald: No? Then who does?
Lip: Oh. You’re saying just 'cause I’m white and they’re white? You know, that’s a very prejudiced thing you just said there. A very prejudiced thing. I got more in common with the Hymies at 2nd Avenue Deli than I do with these hillbilly pricks down here.

Lip: How does he smile and shake their hands like that? They try to pull that outhouse shit on me, I’d piss right on the living room floor.
Oleg: Don’t-don’t do that. We have many concert dates left. You realize we’re contractually obliged to perform them?
Lip: Course I do. You don’t play, we don’t get paid. What’s your point?
Oleg: Ugly circumstances are going to happen again, so control yourself.
Lip: Don’t lecture me, you rat.
Oleg: Dr. Shirley could have stayed up north, getting rear end kissed at Park Avenue parties for three times money. But he ask for this.
Lip: Why?[/b]

I’m wondering the same thing myself.

[b]Lip [after Donald has dictated an eloquent letter for him to send to his wife]: So, can I put, uh… “P.S. Kiss the kids”?
Donald: A P.S.?
Lip: Yeah, like, at the end.
Donald: That’s like clanging a cowbell at the end of Shostakovich’s Seventh.
Lip: Right. And that’s good?
Donald: It’s perfect, Tony.

Donald: They were wrong for the way they treated me, and you rewarded them.
Lip: I was hired to get you from one show to the next. How I do it shouldn’t matter to you.
Donald: I just wish you hadn’t paid 'em off.
Lip: I did what I had to do. You know, if this got out, it would kill your career.
Donald: Okay, Tony. I need you to stop it with the phony altruism and concern for my career.
Lip: What the hell does that mean?
Donald: You were only thinking about yourself back there because you know, if I miss a show, it’ll come out of your pocketbook.
Lip: Of course I don’t want you to miss a show, you ungrateful bastard. You think I’m doing this for my health? Tonight, I saved your ass. So show a little appreciation, maybe.[/b]

Aside from being black in the Deep South, it turns out he’s gay too.

[b]Donald: Tony. I’m sorry about last night.
Lip: Don’t worry about it. I’ve been working nightclubs in New York City my whole life. I know it’s a… complicated world.

Lip: So, where’d you learn how to play like that?
Donald: My mother. She taught me how to play on an old spinet. Soon as I could walk, we’d… travel around the Florida Panhandle, put on my little shows in parishes and halls. Fortunately, a man who had seen me play arranged for me to study at the Leningrad Conservatory of Music. I was the first Negro ever accepted there.
Lip: That’s where they taught you all them songs you play?
Donald: Actually, I was trained to play classical music. Brahms, Franz Liszt, Beethoven, Chopin. It’s all I ever wanted to play. But I was persuaded by my record company to pursue a career in popular music instead. They insisted that audiences would never accept a Negro pianist on a classical stage. Wanted to turn me into just another colored entertainer. You know, the guy who’s smoking while he’s playing and sets a glass of whiskey on his piano, and then complains because he’s not respected like Arthur Rubinstein. You don’t see Arthur Rubinstein putting a glass of whiskey on his piano.
Lip: I don’t know. Personally, I think, if you stuck to the classic stuff, it would’ve been a big mistake.
Donald: A mistake? Performing the music I trained my entire life to play?
Lip: Trained? What are you, a seal? People love what you do. Anyone could sound like Beethoven or… “Joe Pan” or them other guys you said, but your music, what you do… …only you can do that.
Donald: Thank you, Tony. But not everyone can play Chopin. Not like I can.

White cop: How you say this last name?
Lip: Vallelonga.
Cop: Yeah, what kind of name is that?
Lip: It’s Italian.
Cop: Oh. Oh, I see. That’s why you’re driving him around. You’re half a nigger yourself.

Chief: Get 'em out.
Cop: What?
Chief: Cut 'em goddamn loose.
Cop: That dago wop hit me!
Chief: You want to keep your goddamn job? Then you do what I goddamn tell you to do when I goddamn tell you to do it! And I’m telling you to get 'em the goddamn out!
Lip [to Donald]: Who the hell did you call?[/b]

Bobby Kennedy as it turns out.

[b]Donald: You shouldn’t have hit the cop.
Lip: I didn’t like the way he was treating you. Making you stand out in the rain like that.
Donald: Please, you hit him because of what he called you. I’ve had to endure that kind of talk my entire life. You should be able to take it for at least one night.
Lip: What? I can’t get mad at that stuff he was saying 'cause I ain’t black? Christ, I’m blacker than you are.
Donald: Excuse me?
Lip: You don’t know shit about your own people. What they eat, how they talk, how they live. You don’t even know who Little Richard is.
Donald: Oh, so knowing who Little Richard is makes you blacker than me? Oh, Tony, I wish you could hear yourself sometimes. You wouldn’t talk so damn much.
Lip: Bullshit. I know exactly who I am. I’m the guy who lived in the same neighborhood in the Bronx my entire life with my mother, my father, my brother, and now my wife and kids. That’s it. That’s who I am. I’m the asshole who has to hustle every goddamn day to put food on the table. You, Mr. Big Shot, you live on top of a castle, traveling around the world doing concerts for rich people. I live on the streets. You sit on a throne. So yeah, my world is way more blacker than yours.

Donald: Yes, I live in a castle, Tony! Alone. And rich white people pay me to play piano for them because it makes them feel cultured. But as soon as I step off that stage, I go right back to being just another nigger to them. Because that is their true culture. And I suffer that slight alone, because I’m not accepted by my own people 'cause I’m not like them, either. So, if I’m not black enough and if I’m not white enough and if I’m not man enough, then tell me, Tony, what am I?

Oleg: Is Dr. Shirley in his dressing room?
Lip: Yeah. More like half a broom closet. Tell you, I don’t know how he puts up with that shit.
Oleg: Six years ago, in 1956, Nat King Cole was invited to perform at the Municipal Auditorium here in Birmingham. Mr. Cole was the first Negro asked to play at a white establishment in this city. As soon as he started playing, a group of men attack him for playing white people’s music. They pull him off stage and beat him badly.
Lip: Jesus Christ.
Oleg: You asked me once why Dr. Shirley does this. I tell you. Because genius is not enough. It takes courage to change people’s hearts.

Lip: This guy’s saying Dr. Shirley can’t eat here.
Manager: Oh, well, I apologize, but… these are long-standing traditions, club rules. I’m sure you understand.
Donald: No, I do not understand. In 45 minutes, I will be right up there on that stage entertaining your guests, yet I can’t eat here?
Manager: I’m sorry.
Lip: Wait a minute. Are you telling me the bozos in his band and all these people who came here to see him play, they can eat here, but the star of the show, the-the parking spot of honor, he can’t?
Manager: I’m afraid not.

Manager [taking Lip aside]: Mr. Villanueva, you have to talk sense to Mr. Shirley. Please make him understand. We’re not insulting him personally. This is just the way things are done down here.
Lip: Yeah, well, he’s not from down here.
Manager: Yeah, just-just ask him to be reasonable. I got 400 guests in there expecting to be entertained tonight.
Lip: And Dr. Shirley expects to eat tonight. Why can’t you just make an exception this one time?
Manager: Let me tell you a story. You ever hear of the Boston Celtics basketball club? Well… those boys came through here couple years ago on a barnstorming tour, and… seeing as they was the world champions of the league and all, we were tickled to have them here, and we rolled out the welcome wagon. So, do you know what table their big coon ate at that night?
Lip: No.
Manager: I don’t, either, but it wasn’t one of ours. Now, let’s cut the bullshit. Tell me what it’s gonna take, huh? Say, uh, a hundred dollars, you get your boy to play?
Lip: You think you can buy me?
Manager: With all due respect, sir, you wouldn’t be in a job like this if you couldn’t be bought.

Lip [to Donald]: Don’t ever flash your wad of cash in a bar.

Donald [to Lip]: I knew you had a gun.

Donald: Thank you for sharing your husband with me.
Dee: Thank you for helping him with the letters.

Title card: Dr. Donald Shirley continued to tour, compose and record to great acclaim. Igor Stravinsky said of him, “His virtuosity is worthy of the Gods”.

Frank “Tony Lip” Vallelonga went back to his job at the Copacabana, eventually becoming the maître d.

Tony Lip and Dr. Donald Shirley remained friends until they died within months of each other in 2013.[/b]

When it comes to issues like homosexuality, there are three kinds of people:

1] those who accept it
2] those who reject it
3] those who accept it…but only on their terms

Thus some of the most ferocious battles can occur within the homosexual community itself. Arguments over which behaviors come closest to encompassing how those who wish to construe themselves as “one of us” are obligated to embrace.

In the same vein, which portrayals of homosexuality in film come closest to getting it right?

Did Bohemian Rhapsody do justice to Freddie Mercury? Did Freddie Mercury himself do justice to the gay cause? Or did the movie skew the truth such that [as some insist] it should never have been made at all. Or, as the song itself asks, “is this the real life, is this just fantasy?”

So, the problem here isn’t just getting the facts down right, but interpreting those facts so as to be included in the right rendition of “one of us”. Which means that this is either more or less important to you. And, however important it might be, how much information and knowledge do any of us have to make our own reaction among the more sophisticated?

Freddie Mercury was said to have “defied all of the stereotypes”. But for some [both accepting of and rejecting homosexuality] those stereotypes can be more or less important in shaping their own sense of “the true story”. We can only end up taking out of Freddie Mercury that which we are able to put into him: ourselves.

And [of course] all the usual stuff about being a dedicated musician – a serious artist – in an industry bent only on turning music into a saleable commodity; and all the “boys in the band” calamities precipitating any number of contentions as they rise to the top and have to deal with all the consequences of newfound wealth and fame.

And then [eventually] hovering over everthing is AIDS.

IMDb

[b]For his role as Freddie Mercury, Rami Malek was fitted with special prosthetic teeth to recreate Freddie’s prominent overbite. After filming wrapped, Rami kept the teeth as a memento from the shoot, eventually having them cast in gold.

On The Late Show with Stephen Colbert: Mike Myers/Christiane Amanpour (2018), Mike Myers said that during the making of Wayne’s World (1992), he insisted that the song he and his friends listen to while driving would be “Bohemian Rhapsody”. The producers felt it wouldn’t be appropriate. Myers stood his ground, eventually threatening to quit the movie. Myers got his way, the movie became a huge hit, and the song reentered the charts, peaking at at #2 in the United States. The movie was credited for introducing Queen to a new audience. Myers also said that when he was offered a chance to appear in this movie, he accepted immediately without bothering to read the script.

In a 1985 interview, Freddie Mercury famously said, “The only friend I’ve got is Mary, and I don’t want anybody else. To me, she was my common-law wife. To me, it was a marriage. We believe in each other, that’s enough for me.”

Though Freddie Mercury stayed in touch with his family throughout his rise to fame, he never disclosed his sexuality to his parents, whose Zoroastrian religion deemed homosexuality a mode of demon worship.

Sacha Baron Cohen was the original choice to play Freddie Mercury, with Stephen Frears to direct.

According to BBC, film production was rough. The film’s producers and lead star, Rami Malek, had grown tired of director Bryan Singer’s erratic behavior, which saw him routinely showing up late to set or disappearing altogether.

Freddie Mercury’s speech about not wanting to be pitied is based on real events. In reality, some years after the Live Aid, the band had sat together and were casually chatting about daily stuff. Freddie Mercury jokingly said “You guys think you have problems” and pulled up his pants, showing them a scar that had formed in his lower leg. He then went on to tell the band (much like depicted in the film) about his disease, and how he sternly refused to be pitied, and that he wanted to spend the rest of his time making music. He also asked them to keep it a secret, and although many people suspected it in his final year due to his extreme weight loss, he didn’t publicly announce it until one day before his death.

The film had a mixed critical reception; the direction, screenplay, and historical inaccuracies were criticized; however, Rami Malek’s performance as Freddie Mercury received unanimous praise.[/b]

trivia at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt1727824/tr … tt_trv_trv
FAQs at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt1727824/faq?ref_=tt_faq_sm
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bohemian_Rhapsody_(film
trailer: youtu.be/mP0VHJYFOAU

Bohemian Rhapsody [2018]
Directed by Bryan Singer

[b]Father: Out again, Farrokh?
Freddie: It’s Freddie now, Papa.
Father: Freddie or Farrokh…what difference does it make when you’re out every night…no thought of the future in your head? Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. That’s what you should aspire to.
Freddie: Yes. And how’s that worked out for you?

Freddie: Also, um, I write songs. Might be of interest to you. It’s just a bit of fun, really.
Roger [from the band Smile]: Well, you’re five minutes too late. Our lead singer just quit.
Freddie: Well, then you’ll need someone new.
Roger: Any ideas?
Freddie: What about me?
Roger: Uh, not with those teeth, mate.[/b]

Freddie turns to walk away, stops, turns back and starts to sing.

[b]Freddie: I was born with four additional incisors. More space in my mouth means more range. I’ll consider your offer.
Roger: Uh, do you play bass?
Freddie: Nope.

Mary: So, you found me, then. How can I help you?
Freddie: Oh. Um, I rather liked these. Do you think you have them in my size?
Mary: This is the ladies’ section, so I’m not exactly sure.

Freddie: Trouble is, we’re just not thinking big enough.
Roger: What have you got in mind, Fred?
Freddie: An album.
Roger: We can’t afford an album.
Freddie: Oh, we’ll find a way. How much do you think we can get for this van?
Roger: I hope you’re joking.

A&R man: Oi, RT, who are these kids in the box?
RT: A student band doing some weird stuff.
A&R man: How about demos? You got some?

Mary: So the new name is Queen?
Freddie: As in “Her Royal Highness.” And because it’s outrageous…and I can’t think of anyone more outrageous than me.

Freddie: Please tell your father it’s nice to meet him.
Mary: I have.
Freddie: Then thank him for the lovely birthday cake.
Mary: I have.
Freddie: Then tell him his daughter’s an epic shag.
Mary [whose father is deaf]: Freddie, he can read lips.

Father: Mercury?
Freddie: No looking back. Only forward.
Father: So now the family name’s not good enough for you?
Mother: It’s just a stage name.
Freddie: No, it’s not. I changed it legally. Got a new passport and everything.

Father: I sent Farrokh away to make a good Parsee boy of him. He was too wild and unruly. But what good did it do? Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. You can’t get anywhere pretending to be someone you’re not.

Freddie [to the band and his family after getting off the phone]: I have an announcement. One of the A&R men…from EMI saw us recording. Gave our demo to John Reid. He looks after Elton John. Oh, my God. Mr. Reid wants to meet us…and possibly, even manage us.

Reid: So, this is Queen. And you must be Freddie Mercury. You’ve got a gift. You all have. So tell me… what makes Queen any different from all the other wannabe rock stars I meet?
Freddie: I’ll tell you what it is. We’re four misfits who don’t belong together, playing to the other misfits. The outcasts right at the back of the room…who are pretty sure they don’t belong either. We belong to them.

Mary: What was it like singing for all those people?
Freddie: When I know they’re listening…when I know I really have them…I couldn’t sing off-key if I tried. I’m exactly the person I was always meant to be. I’m not afraid of anything. The only other time I ever feel that way is when I’m with you.

EMI exec: : Look…we just really need something special. More hits…like Killer Queen…only bigger.
Roger: It’s not bloody widgets we’re making. We can’t just reproduce Killer Queen.
Freddie: No. We can do better.
[he plays a record]
Freddie: It’s opera. Opera! Opera!
Roger: See, we don’t want to repeat ourselves. The same formula over and over. Formulas are a complete and utter waste of time.
Beach: Formulas work. Let’s stick with the formulas. I like formulas.
Freddie: We’ll call the album…A Night at the Opera.
EMI exec: Are you aware that no one actually likes opera?
Freddie: No, don’t misunderstand, darling. It’s a rock and roll record…with the scale of opera… the pathos of Greek tragedy… the wit of Shakespeare…the unbridled joy of musical theater. It’s a musical experience. Rather than just another record. Something for everyone… something… Hmm. Something that will make people feel belongs to them. We’ll mix genres, we’ll cross boundaries…we’ll speak in bloody tongues if we want to.

Paul [after Freddie sings a new song]: Hmm. It’s beautiful. What’s it called?
Freddie: Love of My Life. I wrote it for Mary.
Paul: If you say so.

Freddie [after Paul kisses him]: Don’t misunderstand, Paul. Mary knows me in a way that no one else ever will.
Paul: I know you, Freddie Mercury.
Freddie: Is that what you think? Oh, no, you don’t know me. You just see what you want to see. We work together. That’s all.

Freddie [in the studio]: Oh, and then there’s the operatic section. You’re gonna love it.

Ray [after hearing Bohemian Rhapsody]: I’m not entirely sure…that’s the album you promised us.
Freddie: No, it’s better than the album we promised you. It’s better than any album anyone’s ever promised you, darling. It’s a bloody masterpiece.
John: It is a good album, Ray.
Freddie: We prefer “masterpiece.”
Ray: It’s expensive, and as for… “Bohemian…”
Band member: Rhapsody.
Ray: Rhapsody. What is that?
Freddie: It’s an epic poem.
Ray: It goes on forever. Six bloody minutes.
Freddie: And do you know what? We’re going to release it as our single.
Ray: Not possible. Anything over three minutes… and the radio stations won’t program it, period. And what on earth is it about, anyway? Scaramouche? Galileo? And all that “Ismillah” business! “Ishmillah”?
Freddie: Bismillah.
Ray: Oh, aye. Bismillah. What’s it about, anyway? Bloody Bismillah?
Freddie: True poetry is for the listener. It ruins the mystery if everything’s explained.

Ray: Look, I’m not arguing Bohemian whatever’s…musicianship. But there’s no way in hell the station will play a 6-minute quasi-operatic dirge comprised of nonsense words! Bismillah? Bullshit! I paid for this record, so I say what goes!

Brian: Have we no legal recourse on this?
Reid: Legally, no. No, he’s got all your balls in a vice. It’s a different matter in the court of public opinion, of course. Ray Foster’s a giant name in the music industry, but…to the average person… say the name Queen, on the other hand…ears prick up.
Ray: We’re going with You’re My Best Friend. Done.
Freddie [turning to walk out the door]: No. We know what we have, even if you don’t. It’s called Bohemian Rhapsody. And you will forever be known as the man who lost Queen.

Paul [to Mary watching Freddie on stage]: How much do they love him? Can’t get enough.

Freddie [watching himself on TV]: They’re all singing. Thousands of them. All singing to you. Because it’s true.
Mary: Freddie, what’s wrong? Something’s been wrong for a while now. Say it. Say it.
Freddie: I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I think I’m bisexual.
Mary: Freddie, you’re gay. I’ve known for a while now. I just didn’t want to admit it. It’s funny, really. This is what I always settle for. “I love you, but…” “I love you, Mary, but I need space.” “I love you, Mary, but I’ve met someone else.” And now, “I love you, but I’m…” And this is the hardest, because it’s not even your fault…What do you want from me?
Freddie: Almost everything. I want you in my life.
Mary: Why?
Freddie: We believe in each other. And that’s everything. For us.
Mary: Your life is going to be very difficult.
[she walks out of the room]

Paul [on phone]: Freddie?
Freddie: Sweetheart, I want to throw a party.
Paul: Okay. Who do you want to invite?
Freddie: People. I want you to shake the freak tree and invite anyone who plops to the ground. Dwarfs and giants…magicians, Zulu tribesmen, contortionists…fire eaters…and priests. We’re going to need to confess.

Brian: Hmm. You’re starting to look like each other.
Paul: What’s wrong with that, Brian?
Brian: You’re supposed to be in a rock band, Freddie. Not the Village People.

Jim: So, all your friends have left you alone.
Freddie: They’re not my friends. Not really. Just distractions.
Jim: From what?
Freddie: The in-between moments, I suppose. I find them intolerable. All of the darkness you thought you left behind comes creeping back in.
Jim: I know what you mean.
Freddie: Really? What is it that you do with them?
Jim: Spend them with real friends. You look like you could use a friend.
Freddie: I like you.
Jim: I like you, too, Freddie. Come and find me when you decide you like yourself.

Reid: Do you know who sold 4% of all the records purchased last year? Worldwide? Michael Jackson. Not the Jackson 5. Michael Jackson. And I think you could do even better. In fact, I’ve had an offer from CBS Records. It’s a lot of money for you, Fred, and I think you should consider it.
Freddie: Are you asking me to break up the band?
Reid: I’m just pointing out what awaits you if you go solo. An end to your frustrations.
Freddie: My frustrations?
Reid [turning to Paul]: Paul?
Paul: I don’t know what you’re talking about, John.
Reid: Perhaps I misunderstood.
Freddie [to the driver]: Pull over. Stop the car, pull over.
Freddie [to Reid] Get out. Out now! Get out of this car. You’re fired.
Reid: What’re you talking about, fired?
Freddie: I said get out. Out! Out or I’ll kill you! Get out, you treacherous piss flap.
Reid: You’re not thinking clearly.
Freddie: Get your ass out of my car now. Get out! Out! Get your ass out of my car! Get out!
Reid: You’re firing the wrong snake, Freddie. You’ll regret it.

Freddie: Did you know anything about this?
Paul: I warned him against it. Pure greed.
Freddie: Tried to break up my family.
Paul: We can manage the band. We don’t need him.
Freddie: What do you know about what I need?
Paul: I know what it’s like…not to belong. A queer Catholic boy from Belfast. You know…I think my father would rather see me dead than let me be who I am. I’m gonna take care of you now, Freddie. If you’ll let me.

Freddie: I’m tired of the bloody anthems. I want the energy in the clubs. The bodies, I want to make people move.
Roger: You mean disco?
Paul: Why not?
Roger: Do you mind pissing off? This is a band discussion.
Roger: Drum loops? Synthesizers? It’s not us!
Freddie: Us?
Roger: It’s not Queen!
Freddie: Queen is whatever I say it is!

Reporter: In your song Life Is Real, what do you mean by the line… “Love is a roulette wheel”? Are you implying that the more partners you have… the more chances you have of… contracting something?
Freddie: What? I don’t know, I haven’t figured out love yet.
Reporter: But it implies something else, Freddie.
Freddie: That might be a better question for Rog.
Roger: Watch it.

Reporter: Freddie, could you tell us about the rumors concerning your sexuality?
Freddie: What about the rumors concerning your lack of sexuality? I’m just a musical prostitute, my dear.
Reporter: Can you answer the question?
Freddie: What’s your name, dear?
Reporter: Shelley Stern.
Freddie: Shelley.
Reporter: Yes.
Freddie: That thing between your legs, does it bite?
Reporter: Could you answer the question, please? What are you afraid of, Freddie?
Freddie: What do you want? What is the truth?

Freddie: I’m tired of touring. Aren’t you? Album, tour, album, tour. I want to do something different.
Brian: We’re a band. That’s what bands do. Album, tour, album, tour.
Freddie: Well, I need a break. I’m sick of it.
Roger: What are you saying, Freddie?
Freddie: I’ve signed a deal with CBS Records.
Roger: You’ve done what? Without telling us? What kind of deal?
Freddie: Look, I’m not saying we won’t record or ever tour again. Queen will go on. But I need to do something different. Do you know what I mean? I need to grow.

Roger: How much? What did they pay you? I wanna know how much they paid you…
Freddie: $4 million!
Roger: That’s more than any Queen deal.
Freddie: Look, the routine is killing us. I mean, you must all want a break from all the arguments. I mean, whose song gets on the album… whose song’s the single… who wrote what… who gets a bigger slice of the royalties… what’s on the B-side, all of it. You must need a break.
Brian: Freddie, we’re a family.
Freddie: No, we’re not! We’re not a family! You’ve got families, children, wives. What have I got?
Roger: You’ve got $4 million. Perhaps you can buy yourself a family.

Freddie: I won’t compromise my vision any longer.
Roger: Compromise? Are you joking? You were working at Heathrow before we gave you a chance.
Freddie: And without me…you’d be a dentist…drumming 12/8-time blues at the weekend at the Crown and Anchor. And you. Well, you would be Dr. Brian May… author of a fascinating dissertation on the cosmos…that no one ever reads. And Deacy…for the life of me…nothing comes to mind.
Deacy: I studied electrical engineering.

Mary: Freddie, you’re burning the candle at both ends.
Freddie: Yes, but the glow is so divine.
[Mary looks over at a table cluttered with booze and drug paraphernalia]
Freddie: Being human is a condition that requires a little anesthesia.

Freddie: I’m frightened.
Mary: Freddie, you don’t need to be. Because no matter what, you are loved. By me, by Brian, Deacy, Roger… your family. It’s enough.
[she looks over towards the house]
Mary: And these people…they don’t care about you. Paul doesn’t care about you. You don’t belong here, Freddie. Come home.

Freddie [after Mary is gone]: Why didn’t you tell me about Live Aid?
Paul: The Africa charity gig? It’ll be an embarrassment. I didn’t wanna waste your time.
Freddie: You’re out.
Paul: What do you mean?
Freddie: I want you out of my life.

Paul: So I’m out? Just like that? After everything we’ve been through? Just think of the photos I have. I know who you are, Freddie Mercury.
Freddie: You know when you know you’ve gone rotten? Really rotten? Fruit flies. Dirty little fruit flies. Coming to feast on what’s left. Well, there isn’t much left for you to feast on anymore. So, fly off. Do what you like with your photographs and your stories. But promise me one thing. That I never see your face again. Ever.

Reporter [on TV interviewing Paul while Freddie watches]: And so, Mr. Prenter… all these stories about Freddie Mercury and his lovers…that there were so many. Is it really true?
Paul: Yes, it is. His lovers were countless. Genuinely countless. Uh…All these wild, drug-fueled parties… where he’d find another lover every night…and a routine he couldn’t get out of.
Reporter: So, you really did see behind the mask?
Paul: I knew Freddie when he did Bohemian Rhapsody. And the Freddie we have now… he doesn’t have the same passion about music.

Jim [of the band members]: They’ll be all right. They just need a bit of time.
Freddie: What if I don’t have time?
Jim: What do you mean, Fred?

Jim: Bob Geldof. I called to convince him to squeeze you guys into the lineup for the Live Aid concert…but he wants an answer now. You have to make a decision. Every ticket’s already sold. 100,000 people at Wembley… 100,000 people at JFK Stadium in Philadelphia… a global TV audience around the world of 150 countries…13 satellites. The Olympics only had three.
Roger: We haven’t played together in years. It’s kinda suicide to play again…for the first time in front of millions.
Brian: Try over 1.5 billion. “Who are these four dinosaurs?” “Where’s Madonna?”
Jim: It’s a 20-minute set. Everyone gets the same. Jagger, Bowie…Elton…McCartney, The Who… Led Zeppelin… Phil Collins, REO Speedwagon… Bob Dylan. Anybody who is anybody is doing this concert.
Freddie: Look. All I know is that if we wake up the day after this concert and we didn’t do our part…we’re going to regret it till the day we die. Please.

Freddie: Before you leave…Could I have a second?
Roger: Yeah. What’s up?
Freddie: I’ve got it.
Roger: Got what?
Freddie: AIDS. I wanted you to hear it from me.
Brian: Fred, I’m so sorry.
Freddie: Brian, stop. Don’t. For right now…it’s between us. All right? Just us. So, please if any of you fuss about it or frown about it, or, worst of all if you bore me with your sympathy… that’s just seconds wasted. Seconds that could be used making music…which is all I want to do with the time I have left.[/b]

When most think of the crack epidemic back in the eighties, they think of black communities rived and ravished from within. And when most think of Detroit back then they think of an automobile industry being pummelled by “foreign imports”. Plants closing down left and right. Good paying union jobs going down the drain in the brand spanking new “global economy”.

On the other hand, not many will connect the dots between them. As Detroit becomes part of the “rust belt” and those union jobs available to working class folks without a college education begin to dwindle more and more, of course drugs are going to be seen as a viable alternative. For the folks that use them and for the folks that sell them…that push them.

Only this is the “based on a true story” tale of a white man and his white son becoming entangled in almost every imaginable facet of this crack epidemic. As for Rick, he might be in a crowd of over a hundred people and he’s the only white dude around.

Then the “politics” of it all. Nancy Reagan imploring these rust belt folks – the kids in particular – to “just say no” to drugs. And law enforcement making a clear distinction between the cocaine that white folks snort and the crack rocks more widely available to those folks of color on the other side of the class divide.

We see all of this – the good, the bad, the ugly – unfolding from both sides of the law.

One of those films in which most of us don’t have a clue as to what it must have been like growing up on the “poor side of town” amidst a drug epidemic in a major post-modern American metropolis…yet still confident that we can judge these folks with the utmost clarity and conviction.

IMDb

[b]Though he’s never seen in the film, a Detroit Police officer, named Gil Hill, is mentioned a couple of times during the course of the events leading up to the trial. This was the same Gil Hill who would become famous as Inspector Todd, Axel Foley’s boss in the Beverly Hills Cop movies. Following his retirement from the Detroit Police Department, he went into politics as a Detroit City Councilman, and later, President of the Detroit City Council. During his time as a police officer, he was involved in the “White Boy Rick” case.

Richie Merritt had apparently never heard of Matthew McConaughey and was oblivious to his A-list celebrity status when he agreed to do the film.[/b]

trivia at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt4537896/tr … tt_trv_trv
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Boy_Rick
trailer: youtu.be/qns48PtK2io

White Boy Rick [2018]
Directed by Yann Demange

[b]Rick: How come we stayed, Dad? Detroit. You always saying it’s a shithole.
Richard: Son, lions don’t leave the Serengeti. Besides, this is gonna be our year, I can feel it. You know, people like to piss on this country, but America is the only place in the goddamn world where a man can hot-wire his brains to his balls and make shit happen. All’s he got to have is vision.
Rick: Vision?
Richard: Yeah.
Rick: Man needs a fucking pair of glasses. He wired his brains to his balls?
Richard: It’s a, uh, metaphor, Rick.
Rick: Fuck is that?

Richard: Dawn, put on your clothes. We’re going out. You, me and Ricky, we’re gonna get frozen custard.
[Dawn – his junkie daughter – laughs]
Richard: What’s so funny?
Dawen: Why the fuck would I do that?
Richard: Why’d you do that? 'Cause you’re my daughter, that’s why. And we’re a family, and that’s what families do!

Ray [Richard’s father to his wife]: “Golden Fleece”? Will you tell me what the fuck that means?!

Rick: Silencers for the fake AKs? Why you waste your time on them?
Richard: Say, you pull through the drive-through and you order a burger, right? Little girl in the paper hat, first thing she says to you is, “Do you want fries with that?” Now, you didn’t pull in wanting fries, but now that she’s planted the idea in your head, you think, “Well, God damn! A burger just don’t taste right without fries, right?” The next thing you know, you find yourself handing out your hard-earned dollars to buy some fries that the little girl in the paper hat ordered for you. Now, what’d she just do to you? She just upsold your ass. So, you see, the burger is like the AK. But the silencer, that’s the fries. All’s we got to do, is make them believe that they can’t have one without the other.

Rick: Dawn. What’s going on?
Dawn: I’m leaving. Here’s the number, in case you need it. Don’t go giving it to Dad.
Rick: It’s Ty’s, isn’t it? Ty ain’t got shit, Dawn. You know he’s a fucking lowlife.
Dawn: What do you think Dad is, Ricky?

Johnny: Let’s see the guns.
[Rick shows them the fake AKs]
Johnny: How much?
Rick: $100. Both.
Johnny: Boo’ll hit you off.
Rick: You want some fries with that?

Richard: Yeah. So? I got my FFL. I’m legit.
Agent Byrd: You might have a license to sell firearms, Rick, but I think we can both agree that you’re not legit.
Richard: Frank, I’ve never sold an unregistered weapon to anybody. Not knowingly. And I’ve got papers on every piece to prove it.
Agent Snyder: You got the papers on the silencers?

Byrd: Ricky, you know who the first lady of the United States is, right? You know what she says about drugs?
Rick: “Just say no.”
Byrd: That’s right. Problem is we got too many people saying yes. Especially on the East Side.

Snyder: Ricky, we just want to show you something, okay?
Rick: Man, what’s up with you people and photographs? I supposed to know who this is?
Snyder: He was shot twice in the back of the head.
Rick: Think that’s news on the East Side?
Byrd: We haven’t found the killer yet, but we did find the weapon. .40 caliber. This particular weapon was purchased at a gun show earlier this year. By a licensed dealer. Your father is a businessman, who happens to have some clients that are total fucking scumbags. But the good news is the only people who know about this problem are sitting in this vehicle.[/b]

A CI is born…

[b]Snyder [after Rick cocks a gun]: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Shit! Hey! No firearms.
Rick: You all got 'em.
Jackson: Yeah, 'cause I’m the motherfucking PD and they’re the motherfucking FBI, you little motherfucker.
Rick: Then why don’t the motherfucking PD and the motherfucking FBI walk they asses down there?
Byrd: We got your back, Rick.
Rick: Blow me.

Brenda: I thought you was dead. I mean, that’s the way it mostly be when somebody stop coming to school, dead, in jail.
Rick: I just been busy.
Brenda: What you been busy with, Ricky?

Jackson [tossing Rick a bag of dope]: There’s one other thing.
Rick: What is this?
Jackson: Consider it a bonus.
Rick: Dude, my dad finds this, he’ll kick my ass.
Jackson: Just make sure he doesn’t find it, then. A new jack like your ass is buying and you ain’t pushing, word gets around.
Rick: First y’all got me buying, now y’all got me selling?

Jackson [to Rick in a voiceover]: Break it down to dime rocks. Get yourself a crew and offload it. Before long, people’ll know you legit. You legit, you’re safe.

Richard: Those motherfuckers came to you behind my back, Ricky?
Rick: What?
Richard: I saw you in the car. And you went along with it? You’re my son.
Rick: They was gonna put your ass in jail.
Richard: Then let 'em put my ass in jail!

Rick: That’s my box. You been going through my shit?
Richard: Yeah, I’ve been going through your shit. You know how much goddamn money’s in that box? $9,782. Now, how’s a goddamn 15-year-old boy have $9,782 without his goddamn dad knowing about it?
Rick: You know, you ought to be fucking thanking me!
[richard slaps him hard]
Rick: Man, fuck it! Keep the money! You need it more than I do! Use it to go open up your fucking movie store! Dawn’s right! You’re a fucking loser!

Dawn [to Rick after they’re both handcuffed by the cops]: Good seein’ ya lttle bro.

Johnny: What they charge you with, Rick?
Rick: Attempted murder. Some bullshit. I don’t know.
Johnny: You don’t know? You say that shit like you ain’t even tripping. You good, Rick, at talking like a nigga, but you don’t know the first thing it is to live like one. What you tell 'em, Rick?
Rick: I didn’t tell 'em nothing, Johnny. For real. I mean, the motherfucker stole my grandpa’s car, and I was just trying to stop him from getting away.
Johnny: You think one of us shoot up your granddaddy’s car, they let us walk? Hmm? If I find out you got Boo mixed up in this, Rick, I will personally correct your ass. You understand?
Rick: Mixed up in what?
Johnny: We know, Rick. Nobody last 10 years in the game without knowing fuck all going on. We know. You cop from our houses, and then you out there grinding on your own. You ain’t think we was gonna find out?
Rick: I’m sorry, Johnny. I had no idea they were your houses.
Johnny: 650 grams, Rick. That’s all it take to land your ass, my ass, and all your buddies out there on the inside for the rest of our lives. Shit, you better off murdering somebody in the state of Michigan. So if you holding even one fucking gram, you don’t come anywhere near me or mine, you understand? They haul your ass, you doing white time. They haul any of our asses, we doing black time. So don’t be reckless around here. You want to move weight? Come to me. From now on, stay away from the houses. Feds always be watching the houses. You understand?
Rick: Yeah.

Richard; These guys you’re hanging around with, you’re gonna get in too deep. And then they ain’t gonna let you out.
Rick: Who, Dad? The Currys or the cops?

Johnny [to the crew]: You know how much fucking heat this gonna bring? This just ain’t no pile of shit you can kick in the woods. This is a fucking child. You know what that mean? It means somebody black ass going down for this whether they did it or not. They just want a nigga. Don’t matter if it’s the right nigga. They just want a nigga. And guess what nigga it ain’t gonna be. It ain’t gonna be me or any of my goddamn family! Leon wasn’t even in the motherfucking house!

Byrd: Hey, Ricky. Something wrong?
Rick: Are you fucking kidding me?
Byrd: We need to talk about that little boy, Ricky.
Rick: What, are you trying to get me fucking killed? What’s the matter with you people? I’m done!

Nugg [pulling out a gun and shooting Rick in the stomach]: I’m sorry, dude.

Richard [watching Rick being operated on]: That’s my son? What the fuck happened to him?
Snyder: They say he’s gonna make it.
Richard: Who fucking did this?
Snyder: We think one of Curry’s crew.
Richard: I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna track him down and put a bullet through his scumbag fucking skull.
Byrd: You got to be careful what you say in front of us, Rick.
Richard: Fuck you, Frank. You don’t think I got a bullet for you too?
Snyder: Whoa, whoa, whoa! -Hey, hey, wait, man.
Richard: You, too, you fucking bitch.
Snyder: Rick, we’re not your enemy.
Richard: You’re responsible for this. For the 15-year-old boy in there.
Snyder: We’ve got enough to bring the Currys in now, Rick.

Dawn: What you into, Ricky? They got you listed under “John Doe.” Who wants you dead so bad?

Snyder [at the hospital]: Who did this to you, Ricky? Was it Steve? Nugg? Was it Boo?
Rick: Boo would’ve never done this.
Snyder: Okay. It doesn’t really matter who pulled the trigger, because we both know who put the gun in their hands. Johnny knows we have an informant. But it’s all worked out for the best, Ricky. We raided one of the houses you were buying from. His crew flipped on him and sold him out…What happened to you could just complicate things. It’s better if this never happened. You understand what I’m saying? Just like it’s better if we forget about that little hobby of your dad’s down in the basement.

Richard: Here, straight talk? Your mother and I, we… We didn’t plan on having Dawn. I mean, to be honest, we didn’t plan on having you, either. But in the end, things worked out.
Rick: Dad, your daughter is a junkie, and I’m shitting into a bag.

Rick: Things aren’t gonna get better, Dad. You happy with this? You happy with who you are? Don’t be thinking what the right answer is. There’s only one right answer. You know how we can change this.
Richard: No. No drugs, God damn it. No drugs. They’re poison, Ricky. They kill people. No fucking way.
Rick: What the fuck do you think you’re selling? Water pistols?
Richard: Ricky, guns are a constitutional right. There’s nothing in the Constitution about drugs. [/b]

Say yes to drugs.

[b]Rick: Hey, Dawn. It’s me. Ricky. I brought Dad, too. We’re gonna take you home. DAWN: Dawn: Why he here? I fucking… Fucking hate him, Ricky. You know how much I hate him.
Rick: We’re gonna take you home.
Dawn: Nah, I don’t want to go home. This my home.
Rick: No, Dawn. You need to come with us, okay? You need to come with us now.
Dawn: I got all my stuff here. I can’t leave my stuff.
Rick: It’s all shit, Dawn. We’ll get you new stuff.
Dawn: You’ll get me new stuff?
Rick: Whatever you want.
Dawn: Promise?
Rick: I promise.

Rick: What are you doing out here?
Richard: Keeping watch. Making sure your sister gets home.
Rick: Dad, I’m pretty sure Dawn can cross the street by herself.
Richard: Yeah, you’d be surprised how easy it is to take a wrong turn, no matter how short the journey.
Rick: Is you all right?
Richard: Yeah, I’m better than all right. Seeing you and Dawn tonight, Ma and Pa, hell, I’m damn near perfect. It’s just that, uh…
Rick: Just what?
Richard: Well, it’s fragile. This thing. Family. And I don’t want it to come apart, you know? I don’t want to break it, again…Let’s not break this, Ricky. Let’s not get greedy. We don’t need much more than we already have right now.
Rick: Yeah. All right, Pops.[/b]

The next day…

[b]Dawn [after Richard and Rick are arrested]: What the fuck is going on?

Bill: Ricky’s a leper.
Richard: Look, Bill, it’s not like he killed anyone.
Bill: 650 grams, Rick. That’s the law. You know how much was in that box? Eight kilos. That’s 8,000 grams. It would be better for Ricky if he had killed someone.
Richard: Where are the Feds and the cops on this, right? They’re the ones that got him dealing in the first place. Where the fuck are they?
Bill: Ask yourself this. Would you believe a 15-year-old kid was working for the federal government?
Richard: But he was.

Snyder: It’s not a conspiracy, Richard. We just can’t say anything publicly.
Richard: Yeah, but I can. I go to the press, tell them the Feds turned my son into a drug dealer, that’s headlines from now till Sunday.
Byrd: That’s not a smart move.
Snyder: Ricky’s in a tough spot. I appreciate that. But we’re not here to negotiate. We don’t have a lot of power here. This is not a federal case. And the Bureau rejects any narrative that suggests we encouraged Ricky to sell drugs. He did that on his own, and he got caught. And now he’s facing a life sentence. We want to offer Ricky an opportunity, maybe a way out.[/b]

Here we go again. Law enforcement wheeling and dealing, using and bruising folks like the Wershes in order to sustain the farce that is Reagan’s “war on drugs”.

[b]Richard: What’s he got to do?
Snyder: We’d like to get an agent on the inside. If you can do that, we can get some convictions. Maybe we can return the favor.

Richard [about the deal]: I think it’s worth a shot, Rick. What do you think, champ?
Rick: I’ll do whatever you say, Dad.

Richard: Okay. We’re gonna need something in writing, all right? Some kind of contract.
Snyder: I’m sorry, we can’t do that, Rick. I mean, if we have anything on paper, it’s gonna look like Ricky’s just saying whatever he needs to, to stay out of jail.
Richard [scoffingly]: So what the fuck are you saying?
Snyder [after a pause]: I’m saying you have to trust us.

Newsman [on TV]: Eleven police officers, including Jimmy Harris, were brought into the federal courthouse in handcuffs. Six civilians were also arrested, including the mayor’s brother-in-law, Willie Volsan. Several law enforcement sources tell us that it was Rick Wershe Jr., aka White Boy Rick, who vouched for an undercover agent posing as a drug dealer who wanted to hire cops to protect his shipments. Sources also tell us Wershe provided information about homicide inspector Gil Hill and bribes paid to cover up an unrelated shooting.
Ray [clearly alarmed]: What is this?
Richard: Nah, it’s okay, Pop. Me and Ricky, we got it all worked out. The Feds got it fixed up with the judge. We’re all good. We’re all good.
Newsman: Wershe, who has clearly made powerful enemies, now faces a life sentence if convicted of the cocaine charges.[/b]

Then the trial…

[b]Judge: Will the defendant please rise?
[Rick stands]
Judge: The People of the State of Michigan find the defendant, Richard Wershe Jr., guilty of possession with the intent to distribute greater than 650 grams of a controlled substance, which, in the state of Michigan, carries a mandatory sentence of life — without the possibility of parole.

Richard: Well, what the fuck happened, Alex?
Snyder: What do you want me to say? I mean, is anything I say gonna make you feel any better?
Richard: No, Ricky did his bit. It’s time for you to do yours. What the fuck happened?
Snyder: Okay, let’s be clear. You were promised nothing. You were told that the Bureau would make best efforts with the court to mitigate Ricky’s sentence. We did that, the judge was not responsive.
Richard: “The judge was not responsive”? What the fuck is that? That’s what you’re calling your best fucking effort? That’s your answer? No, you told me to trust you.
Snyder: I get that.
Richard: You told me to trust you. You didn’t do shit.
Snyder: I have to go.
Ricvhard: You sold us out. You sold us fucking out!

Richard: Why’s this happen to my son? Just tell me the truth. Why him?
Byrd: Well, you deal in narcotics, you get busted.
Richard: It’s not true, Frank. God damn it, we had a deal.
Byrd: You know…I can’t really square that circle for you, Rick. Your boy was out. And he decided to get back in. And you were not exactly an innocent bystander. You know, it’s not about Ricky. It’s not about his little friends. It’s not about kids selling dime bags on the corner. We throw the little ones back, but when the big fish gets away, they got to take what’s left in the net.
Richard: So 'cause you don’t get the fucking mayor, my kid goes down.
Byrd [as Richard walks away]: He’s young…He’ll get out.

Richard [visiting Rick in prison]: Good to see you. I got some good news. Looks like they might overturn that 650 Lifer Law. I talked to Byrd, and he said that he and Snyder were willing to talk to the board if it comes to pass. And if that happens, you could be up for parole in, like, you know, six years.
Rick: That is good news.
Richard: They’re not gonna get away with this, Ricky. You know, poked the lion one too many goddamn times.
Rick: All right, Dad.
Richard: It’s like we always talked about, son. You got to lose a few battles to win the war.
Rick: We didn’t talk about it. You did. And the war is over.
Richard: No, it’s not, son. Don’t say that. It’s not over, you hear me?
Rick: Look where I’m at. It’s like I’m dead in here. And that’s how they want it.

Richard: Eight pounds, 14 ounces. That’s what you weighed when you were born. Ricky, I remember the first time I looked in your eyes, I knew you were gonna be bigger than me. I knew your life was gonna be bigger than mine. Not just in size, but in life, in heart, in spirit. My life was hard, you know? Not yours. Yours was gonna be easy. Gonna be so goddamn easy. And I fucked up. And I’m sorry. I’m so…
[Richard breaks down sobbing]
Richard: You’re my best friend, Rick. No, you’re my only friend. You just remember you got me and you got Dawn, you got your daughter, all right? And we’re not going anywhere. We’re always gonna be right here. All right? Hey, it don’t end like this. All right?
[The guard comes and Ricky has to leave]
Richard [on the prison phone after Rick stands up to leave…Rick hears none of it]: Hey, it don’t end like this. All right? Don’t you give up on me. Ricky, hey, it don’t end like this. We’re lions. Hear me? We’re lions.

Title card: Rick has remained in the Michigan State Prison system since 1988, making his the longest-serving nonviolent offender in Michagan history. Richard Wershe Sr. passed away in 2014.

Johnny, Leo and Boo are no longer in prison. The corrupt Detroit police officers exposed by Rick’s work with the FBI have all been released.

Rick has kept in touch with his daughter Keisha throughout his incarceration. She is happily married and has two sons.

Rick [the real Rick in a voiceover]: I don’t think there’s a person that works here that thinks I belong in prison. You don’t know, having that life sentence off of you, the stress that it takes off of you and the foot that’s been on my chest for all these years. This is my thirtieth birthday in prison, and, and it’ll be the best one, so… Oh, man, I feel overwhelmed with joy, man. I mean, it’s like, I swear to God, man, I feel, like, 10 years younger. It’s weird, like, so much weight’s been lifted off of me. “It’s over. You’re done. Michigan paroled you.” I cried, man. I cried. And I want to go tell my grandma and grandpa that I made it out of prison, you know? I want to go visit them at their grave site. I got everything I need in life.[/b]

Becoming a mule in the drug business is not unlike becoming lots of other things. That is, we either stumble into it or choose to become one because of circumstances that are not entirely in our control. Or we become mired in a situation in which there really are not any other viable options.

But don’t expect that to be of any interest to those who have already locked in their disgust and contempt for those who play any part whatsoever in getting drugs to their kids. Or to their friends and loved ones. All the lives that are destroyed. The irony here being that this is never really part of the plot at all.

But that’s just the way it goes out in the real world. People are more interested in reducing things like dope down to their own rendition of the lowest common denominator.

And just the sound of the word – mule – connotes all sorts of nasty reactions when the creature walks on two legs. And mules are at the rock bottom of the dope business: “Mules don’t talk!”

Just not this one.

Still, here’s a man who is 90 years old. He is “broke, alone and facing foreclosure on his business”. So, is that desparate enough for you to nudge aside your own personal stereotypes?

And what if he’s white? Does that matter? And what if he reaches the point where all that money starts rolling in and the money itself becomes the motive?

The Mule is what is commonly referred to in the film industry as a “character study”. So, even though this is a “crime drama” don’t expect a lot of “action” to unfold. It’s more about figuring out where people choose to go and what they choose to do based on all the factors in their life that make this far more apparent to them than to others.

The film is “inspired” by the true story of Leo Sharp. But how far the facts depicted up on the screen are from a film “based” on his true story is anyone’s guess.

Look for dykes on bikes.

Yeah.

IMDb

[b]It is based on The New York Times article “The Sinaloa Cartel’s 90-Year-Old Drug Mule” by Sam Dolnick, which recounts the true story of Leo Sharp, a World War II veteran in his 80s who became a drug courier for the Sinaloa Cartel.

For Clint Eastwood’s Earl character, the costume designer wanted some of the wardrobe to have a worn look, so some of them were re-used from previous Eastwood movies like Gran Turino, True Crime and, in the case of the suit at the end, In the Line of Fire.

This was not the only time Clint Eastwood played a “mule.” He also played one of a different kind in Two Mules for Sister Sara.[/b]

trivia at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt7959026/tr … tt_trv_trv
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mule_(2018_film
trailer: youtu.be/N_QksSzK7sI

The Mule [2018]
Directed by Clint Eastwood

[b]Earl: Internet. Who needs it.

Earl [after the internet destroys his business]: Damn internet it ruins everything.
Man: So what are you going to do now?
Earl: I don’t know. I’ve never been a plan-B type of guy. I’ll find something.[/b]

But first it finds him.

[b]Mary: You weren’t there for your own daughter and now you’re letting down your granddaughter? But it’s no big surprise…you were never a real father or a husband.
Earl: I was on the road 60 hours a week to provide for this family.
Mary: On the road “providing”? Ha! You know what you did. You played with your friends. You sit around and hand each other trophies for watching seeds sprout. Mr. Daylily.

Rico: You know Earl, if you’re really stuck, I know some people who will pay you to drive one city to another.
Earl: Pay me to just drive? What do you get out of it, slick?
Rico: All I’m saying is that I have friends looking for cautious drivers like you. You could help your granddaughter.

Man: Oye, viejito, do yourself a favor. Don’t look in that bag. You night think you can identify us, or know about this tire shop, but don’t forget, we know who you are.
Earl: I’m not gonna look in anybody’s bag.
Man: Okay, papa.

Man [after Earl’s first run]: You did good. Supposed to tell you to call this number anytime you need work, all right?
Earl: No. No no no. This is just a one time deal for me. Pass.

Mary: I see you’re still into your flowers. I never understood how you could spend so much time and so much money on them.
Earl: I love 'em. I mean, they’re unique. They just bloom one day and that’s the end of it. They deserve all that time and effort.
Mary: So did your family.

Man: Earl, same hotel as before.
Earl [about to do his second run]: Yeah, same as before.

Laton [down in Mexico to his top man Julio]: That old man’s gonna make a full run for us. Hundred and ten kilos. He has no record. He has no traffic tickets. I need you to travel with him, to monitor him, because he can become our top mule.

Luis: Why do you think I’d work for you guys?
Agent Bates: I mean, we found drugs, $425,000 in cash and three unlicensed firearms in your house…so, I mean, that’s a start. Not to mention fraud, tax evasion, money laundering…I mean conservatively I’d say you’re looking at back to back life sentences.
Luis: What do I do?

Earl: Great, mein Kommandant, very good.
Julio: Shut up. Shut up! Mules don’t talk.

Bank official: The foreclosure will be canceled with your reinstatement payment. You said you had cash?
Earl [pulling out a wad of 100s]: Yeah. Right here.[/b]

Finally, on the third run, Earl can’t resist looking in the bag.

Earl: Holy shit! Holy shit!

On the other hand, what did he think it would be, pecans?

[b]Luis [now working for the DEA, to Bates]: This is where it starts, not just here, but dozens of hotels across the city. Mules come in from various locations, loaded, leave their vehicles, someone takes the vehicle, removes the load, and returns it with the mule’s payment.

Julio [on the phone with Laton]: I’m gonna kill him, this fucking old man. He doesn’t have any family. Who’s gonna miss him? This son of a bitch should disappear. He doesn’t follow simple instructions.
Laton: Okay, slow down. What did he do?
Julio: What did he do? He stops wherever he wants. He doesn’t follow my instructions. He doesn’t do what I tell him to do. Yesterday he stopped to see an old friend! I’m gonna kill him!!
Laton: Slow down. Slow down. He moves his own way. He’s been successful. If he changes his route, it’s probably better for us because then he’s less predicable.
Julio: We don’t oblige the other drivers like this.
Laton: You need to oblige me! Understood?
Julio: Understood.

Bates: What is this in code?
Luis: Symbols for each of the mules, along with symbols for their routes, dates and cargo loads. There’s this new drug mule, Tata. New guy.

Julio: Everybody keeps looking at us here.
Earl: That’s cause they see two beaners in a bowl of crackers.

Special Agent in Charge: What?
Bates: Cartel’s top mule’s on his way to a drop. So we know the route. We know it’s a black pickup. It’s a needle in a haystack but we at least it’s a start.

Earl: Who do you have to kill to get a place like this?
Laton: Oh, many, many people.

SWAT captain: We got what they wanted, I suppose. Busts.
Bates: Yeah. Two nobody illegals and a few bags of coke to lay out for the press. Guess now I can retire.

Gustavo [who had Laton assassinated]: Laton is gone. He was getting too lenient. The DEA is cracking down and I’m not going to rot in prison becasue of his deficiencies. So I got rid of him. It’s my show now. No more tardiness. No more going off radar. Everything goes according to plan. No deviations, no excuses. Everybody gets with the program, or they go away. I don’t care who it is. And, yes, this goes for your gringo, too. Do you have a problem with that?
Julio: No.
New boss: Let’s introduce him to the new crew. Show him we are not bullshitting.

Enforcer: I want you to listen carefully, viejo. There’s new rules. You show up on time. You leave on time. No unscheduled stops. No fucking bullshit, man. All orders to be followed to the letter. We have a gift for you…[/b]

It’s in the trunk.

[b]Enforcer: We own your ass, cabron, so don’t be stupid. Or you disappear.

Julio: Answer the phone. You do as your told. Don’t be a problem.
[he motions towards the trunk]
Julio: That’s what happens when you’re a problem. You end up in the goddamn trunk.
Earl: Julio, mijo.
Julio: No, no, don’t “Julio” me. We’re not friends. I’m not your mijo.

Earl [to Mary, who is on her death bed]: Hello, Mary.
Mary: Earl? What do you want. You’re not in the will or anything. Oh. Oh, I’n so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just scared is all.
Earl: Yeah. Well, the only person that wants to live to be 100 is a 99 year old, anyway.

Mary: You lived only to get back out there. All the flower conventions and the socializing and being the center of attention. They got the fun, wonderful man that you are. And we got the Earl who just couldn’t wait to get back out there.
Earl: Yeah, you’re right. I thought it was more important to be somebody out there than the damn failure I was at my own home.

Trevino [to Bates]: Hang on, there’s a call coming from inside. They don’t know where he is either. They sound pissed. They say when they find him, they’re gonna kikll him.

Mary: Earl, tell me something.
Earl: Yeah, anything.
Mary: How did you come into all that money?
Earl: Well, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m a high-end gigolo.
[Mary laughs]
Earl: Bounty hunter?
Mary: Come on. Seriously, come on.
Earl: All right, seriously. Okay. I’ve become a drug mule for the cartel. And I’ve got 305 kilos of cocaine sitting right in the back of my truck out there.
Mary [laughing again]: You’re never going to tell me. Well, whatever you did, you didn’t have to be rich to want you around.
Earl [after a long grim pause]: Yeah…

Bates: You.
Earl: Yeah.[/b]

The English Patient

youtu.be/v3nzvn87rWY

The patient English

Patience has to be earned

“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone anything”.

This is basically a remake of a film that has already been remade dozens of times.

You’re out on the road. You’re young, attractive and female. Your life is just the way you want it. And it’s about to get even better if the job interview works out. You’re described as an “ambitious, overachieving college senior who has a seemingly bright future.” Then you make that proverbial wrong turn. Suddenly you are out in the middle of nowhere. Woods are now in every direction and it’s a reality that you have almost no acquaintance with. Soon you find yourself battling both the “elements” and the “locals”. You’re smack dab in the middle of a forest smack dab in the middle of rural Kentucky. And that makes it all the more ominous. It’s a whole other world down there…out there. Think Deliverance.

Then [of course] enter “the strange loner who has unknown intentions”. After all, what can you really know about the stuff that goes on inside the head of another? But you’re stuck. And he either will or will not take advantage of that. As with the life that we all lead there are so many different directions it can go. But then these two characters beget one of the most intriguing [and appealing] relationships I’ve ever seen in film. And I’ve seen lots and lots and lots of films.

It’s basically a reflection on the age-old tale of a life that [for whatever reason] is turned upside down by a set of circumstances that, among other things, force you to think on your feet. Or perish. It’s dog eat dog and only the strong [or the most resourceful] survive.

Look for some things you’ll need to know about cooking meth.

IMDb

In accordance with Lunacy Productions’ mandate to support female filmmakers, most of the key roles on the movie are filled by women, including director of photography, production designer, colorist, and sound mixer. The production was awarded a Women in Film LA finishing fund grant.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rust_Creek
trailer: youtu.be/5sLIwhkWS3c

Rust Creek [2019]
Directed by Jen McGowan

[b]GPS voice: In 500 feet make a right turn. Make a right turn.
Sawyer [arriving at the turn]: It’s not even a road. Guess we’re taking the next right.
GPS voice: Make a U-turn, if possible.
Sawyer: Give me better directions, if possible.
GPS voice: Make a U-turn, if possible.

Sawyer [aloud to herself]: This doesn’t make any sense. Just reroute me.

Hollister: Say, you won’t make it anywhere before sundown and we live just up a ways. So how about you come on over for some dinner?
Buck: Holli, shouldn’t we just…
Hollister: Oh, he ain’t going anywhere. What do you say?
Sawyer: Thanks, but I really should be getting going, so…
Hollister: No… That… that… that might not be the best idea. I mean, you got lost driving around here and that was in broad daylight. And you don’t wanna be out here after dark, trust me.
Sawyer: Listen, no offense, but you are starting to make me feel very uncomfortable right now.
Hollister: Is that a fact? Well, listen, we just want you to, uh… uh, be comfortable. That’s all we want.

Sheriff: I got a call about an abandoned vehicle at the bend, down by Rust Creek.
Hollister: Well, as you can see, we prefer to abandon our vehicles right here at home.

Hollister: Now all we gotta do is find that bitch.
Buck: She was cut pretty deep, Holli. She ain’t gonna last out here too long. Can’t we just go back…
Hollister: Not until they find a body we’re gonna have O’Doyle and the staties up our asses, Buck.
Buck: But if they find her, won’t they be all over the place anyway?
Hollister: No, not all over. Just around where they find the body. Get it?

Lowell [finding a barely conscious Sawyer collapsed in the forest: Who are you? What are you doing out here?

Lowell: You lost blood. You need to eat.
Sawyer: I need a hospital and the police.
[Lowell says nothing]
Sawyer: What’s your name? I’m Sawyer. Sawyer Scott.
Lowell: Shut up and eat.
Sawyer: I go to Centre College. I’m a senior. I was on my way to DC for a this big job interview and my stupid GPS got me lost. These two guys jumped me. I’m sure my friends are worried about me. And my parents…
Lowell [hearing something]: Quiet.
Sawyer: …and if you could just untie me and take me to the police, you’d be a hero.
Lowell: Shh.

Sawyer [hearing a vehiucle approach the trailer]: Somebody help me! Somebody help me!
Lowell [gripping her mouth]: If they find you here they’ll kill you. Keep quiet, or I can’t help you.[/b]

Yep: Hollister and Buck

Sheriff: Look, before you send out your storm troopers start trampling out people’s flower beds and kicking down their doors, let’s just make sure she’s not passed out in Virginia Beach somewhere.
Slattery [from the State Police]: Jesus Christ, O’Doyle you think I enjoy doing your job for you? I’m not about to send my men traipsing through the woods on Thanksgiving if I don’t have to. But you better get a line on this girl soon or you gonna have state police choppers blocking out the sun down here.

And the sheriff doesn’t want that.

[b]Lowell: Pretty clever how you burned through them ropes.
Sawyer: What is that stuff?
Lowell: Lye.
Sawyer: Is that some kind of acid?
Lowell: Base.
Sawyer: Burns like acid.
Lowell: Bases burn too.
Sawyer: And the milk, that neutralized it?
Lowell: Milk ain’t acid enough to neutralize lye. You’d need something like…like vinegar to neutralize lye.
Sawyer: So why don’t you have some vinegar handy?
Lowell: You know what happens when you mix an acid with a base?
Sawyer: Neutralizes it?
Lowell: Yeah, with so much heat it burn you worse than the lye did. Thought you were a college girl.
Sawyer: I’m not a chemistry major.
Lowell: Well, that’s why milk’s better. Less reaction. Still burned quite a bit, thank you.
Sawyer: Why do you know so much about this stuff?
Lowell: I’ve been cooking meth since I was 14 years old. You learn real quick what all can burn you.

Sawyer: You know…if you let me go I won’t tell them anything. You say you’re trying to help me, but you’re holding me here.
Lowell: Can’t do it.
Sawyer: I promise I won’t tell anyone anything. If you just let me go.
Lowell: We’re five miles from the nearest road. Twenty from any kind of town. I got no car. You wouldn’t make it a 100 yards the shape you’re in. And even if you did, the first person you met would like as not hand you right over to Hollister.
Sawyer: Bullshit. You just wanna keep me here.
Lowell [cutting through the ropes]: You wanna try your luck out in them woods, go on. Hollister and Buck are going into Charleston this weekend. They’ll leave their truck at their mama’s house. I’ll go down on Saturday and I’ll borrow it. And then I’ll take you some place safe. Out of Fording County.

Sheriff: I got some plain questions for you and I want some plain answers.
Hollister: Is this about that car?
Sheriff: Hell with the car. Now, I got the state police asking about a missing girl!
Hollister: We did what you told us, sheriff.
Sheriff: Son, if you’d done what I told you they would’ve found that girl’s body somewhere down in Jonesboro County by now. I still don’t know what the hell you dimwits were thinking.
Hollister: I told you, okay, she come up on us when we was burying that bag of shit. And we thought she seen somethin’!
Sheriff: Well, she seen something now.
Hollister: At this point, don’t it figure she already out there in them woods froze to death?
Sheriff: At this point, it don’t matter if she’s out there dead in a gully or singin’ on Bandstand. Without a body, these woods is gonna be crawling with state police.[/b]

The whole world is corrupt.

[b]Sawyer: What are you doing?
Lowell: Cuttin’ matchbooks.
Sawyer: What for?
Lowell: Cookimg meth.
Sawyer: I thought meth was made from, like…ephedrine and Drano.
Lowell: And matchbooks.
Sawyer: Why are you making meth? Isn’t everyone doing heroin now?

Sawyer: So…you don’t really know what you’re doing. You’re like one of those European pop bands that sing in English but don’t actually know what any of the lyrics mean.
Lowell: You sure ride high for a girl who jammed her wet hands in a bucketful of lye yesterday.
Sawyer: I wasn’t being condescending. I’m just saying. You know, it’s amazing they got you doing all this complex chemistry and you don’t even have to understand it.
Lowell: That ain’t condescending?

Lowell: Hey, would you hand me that pitcher right there?
Sawyer: Why is it so cold?
Lowell: Just pour it in here. Real slow. It’s cold ‘cause the acetone inside, it’s evaporating…sucking away the energy from what all it’s touchin’. Mix that with the matchbooks, separate the red phosphorous. Then I’m gonna mix that with iodine to get hydroiodic acid, which I need to cook meth.
Sawyer: So you do all that for just one ingredient?
Lowell: That’s the job.
Sawyer: Like a bunch of little science projects? Combine this ingredient, separate that one.
Lowell: Yeah, and just about every one of them will kill you. Every one of 'em is either corrosive flammable, both. Methanol, acetone, glycol, butane. You thought that lye was tough. We used to cook with this. Anhydrous ammonia. In here it’s just a liquid that’ll burn your skin right off. Room temp, it turns into poison gas. One spark…

Lowell [to Sawyer]: You fixing to make a break for it? Your call. But if you’re just restless, I can put you to work.

Sawyer: Hey, what day is it?
Lowell: Thursday.
Sawyer: Thanksgiving.
Lowell: I guess you’d be with your folks, huh?
Sawyer: Actually, I was ditchin’ them this year for a stupid job interview. And the worst part is I didn’t even tell them why. I was too embarrassed in case I didn’t get the job. All that scrambling around… …all my plans. What does is matter now?
Lowell: My wife used to say “Man plans, God laughs.”
Sawyer: Yeah. Sounds like something my mom would say. Always talking about God’s plan. Sure don’t seem like much of one.
Lowell: Sure don’t.

Sawyer: Now what?
Lowell: That’s it. In 20 minutes, you’ll be an official meth cook.
Sawyer: That ain’t so hard. I don’t know. Well, I think I might be starting to get used to the quiet country life.[/b]

Not many will see that coming.

[b]Sheriff: Well, let me tell you somethin’. I got a lot invested in this here. And, uh, if I wanna go inside and take a look what y’all up to, I’m gonna do that.
Lowell: You ain’t.
Sheriff: You forget who you’re talking to? I’m the chief, you’re the Indian.
Lowell: My kitchen…my rules.
Sheriff: You know, you ain’t the only cook around here. So, why don’t you just set that gun down and make nice? Don’t kid yourself, boy. I could put two in you before you could even get them barrels up above your waist.
Lowell: Lucky for me then you’re standing next to a drum full of ether. Too dangerous to keep inside. One spark from, say, some buckshot hitting the metal…
Sheriff: Hm. Wow. A Pritchert with some brains. Lord help us all.

Sawyer [after the sheriff leaves]: Was that your boss?
[Lowell nods]
Sawyer: He sounds like an asshole.
Lowell: He’s the worst kind of snake there is. Don’t rattle before he bite.

Lowell: I’ve been thinking about what your mama said. And about how cuttin’ up matchbooks is part of making meth.
Sawyer: You doing a lot of thinking.
Lowell: I guess so. I got this idea they are kinda connected, you know? I don’t got it figured out in my head yet, but it’s like, like in our life, everyone we meet is a chemical reaction. They change us and we change them. 'Cause we change, we can go and have different reactions with other people. And we don’t always know how it will end up. We don’t. Like the matchbooks, they don’t know how they are gonna end up. But just 'cause we can’t see a plan, that don’t mean there ain’t one. Anyway, it made me feel a little better about things, thinking it all fit together somehow.

Sawyer: So that’s it? All clear?
Lowell: Well, we should probably lay low for a little bit. I’ll go pick up the truck around noon and drop you off with the state police.
Sawyer: What’ll I tell them?
Lowell: Tell ‘em the truth. I’ll be cleared out of here by dark.
Sawyer: You’re leavin’?
Lowell: It’s time. You can only sit still so long. Besides, there’s too many ghosts in these woods.

Hollister [having seen the two sets of muddy footorints]: You old dog. This explains everything! Well, you could’ve just told me. He didn’t want to share. And he shouldn’t have to. So what if we seen her first? That don’t mean nothin’ to me when it comes to Cousin Lowell’s happiness. You proven to be pretty untrustworthy lately and I don’t think we can leave it up to you to do the right thing here. So this little lady… …is just gonna have to come with us now.
Lowell: Take a seat, Holli.
Hollister: We ain’t got time to be havin’ this conversation, Lowell.
Lowell: Make time.

Lowell [to Hollister]: Here’s the thing…I know what has to get done. And I’ll take care of it…in my time. But for now…would you just let me have some fun? I mean, you see how trained I got her, don’t you?

Hollister: You can’t. We’re partners.
Sheriff: Go ahead. Pick up the gun.
Hollister: I won’t. I won’t, I won’t do it. You can’t shoot me if I ain’t armed.
Sheriff: You think I’m concerned with the forensics on a known felon shot outside a burning meth house? Son, I just wanted you to feel like you had a fighting chance.
[he shoots him dead]
Sheriff: You didn’t.

Sheriff [with Sawyer in his squad car]: So you’re saying this Lowell Pritchert guy was holding you?
Sawyer: No, not holding me. Hiding me.
Sheriff: Oh, okay, from, uh, from these other fellas that was after you.
Sawyer: Why aren’t you calling this in? He could still be alive.
Sheriff: Hold on now there, miss. No sense in callin’ anything in until I get all the facts. So these other fellas was it just the two of them?
Sawyer: Buck and Hollister. They all work for somebody else but I never saw him.[/b]

Needless to say she is seeing him now.

[b]Sawyer: Shouldn’t you at least call an ambulance or back-up or somethin’?
Sheriff: Well, now, here’s the deal you’re just gonna have to trust my way of doin’ things 'cause around here, well, I’m the chief…you’re the Indian.

Sheriff: Come on now. Just go on down a little further there…down by the water. They call this Rust Creek because of all the clay deposits up the hill. Turned the water red. And they mined up all the clay before I was born. That name stuck though. Let’s go on now.
Sawyer: You don’t have to do this.
Sheriff: Hm. In the water.[/b]

“On the basis of sex”.

It means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. And, over the centuries, it has changed considerably. But one thing we can all agree on is that on the basis of sex only women are able to become pregnant. And not every pregnancy is wanted. And soon the consequences of that may well be adjudicated in the highest court in the land. That land being America and that case revolving around abortion.

And Ruth Bader Ginsburg may or may not be on the court when the tide either does turn dramatically on abortion or does not. After all, she is now 86 years old, and recently underwent a “left-lung lobectomy”. In fact, to this day many liberals bemoan her decision to stay on the court rather than retire and allow Obama and a Democratic Senate to replace her with a younger model.

Only time will tell how ironic that is.

Meanwhile there is still her story to tell. And of late that part seems to be everywhere. RBG lived a particular life, accumulated particular experiences, embodied particular political prejudices. Not unlike all the rest of us. Only very, very few of us make it to the United States Supreme Court.

And then this part: “Inspired by a true story”. Right from the start we know that some of what we see is going to be “embellished”. Amped up to make the plot more enticing.

On the other hand, we all have our own version of the truth, don’t we?

Missing [of course]: The part where “the law of the land” [all the way up to the Supreme Court] is embedded in the historical evolution of political economy. You’ll either grasp this or you won’t.

Still, they do broach the historical relationship between culture and the law. Do you change the laws first in order to change the culture? Or, instead, do you first change the culture in order to change the laws? Like, for example, taking your value judgments to the streets and, in protesting, forming a “political movement”.

Look for The Paper Chase.

And, of course, conflicting goods.

IMDb

[b]The first case covered in Ginsburg’s contracts class at Harvard Law School was Hawkins v. McGee (1943). This was also the first case covered in the contracts class in The Paper Chase (1973), also set at Harvard Law School.

Daniel Stiepleman - the writer of the film - is Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s nephew.[/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_the_Basis_of_Sex
trailer: youtu.be/28dHbIR_NB4

On the Basis Of Sex [2019]
Directed by Mimi Leder

Griswold: My name is Erwin Griswold. I am the dean of this place. Welcome to Harvard Law School. Take a moment to look around you. In this room, there are Rhodes and Fulbright Scholars, Phi Beta Kappa members, student body presidents, and a Harvard football team captain. Together you will become lawyers. This is a privilege you share. It is also a responsibility you accept. Consider… what does it mean to be a Harvard man? A Harvard man is intelligent, of course, but he is also tenacious. He is a leader devoted to the rule of law. He is mindful of his country, loyal to tradition, and he is respectful and protective of our institutions.

He says this to a sea of men. And [according to the camera] to three women. Though it turns out to be nine.

[b]Ruth [holding up two dresses]: Which one makes me look more like a Harvard man?
Marty [her husband]: I’m thrilled to report that you look nothing like a Harvard man.
Ruth: Seriously. It’s the dean’s dinner, Marty. You know how I am at these things. I-I need to make a good impression.
Marty: And you will, Kiki, but you’ve got it wrong. It’s not the dress. It’s you.

Griswold: Esteemed colleagues, ladies. This is only the sixth year women have had the privilege to earn a Harvard law degree. This little soiree is our way of saying welcome…Let us go around the table, and each of you ladies report who you are, where you’re from, and why you’re occupying a place at Harvard that could have gone to a man.

Ruth: Uh, I’m… Ruth Ginsburg from Brooklyn.
Griswold: And why are you here, Miss Ginsburg?
Ruth [mockingly]: Uh, M-Mrs. Ginsburg, actually. My husband Marty is in the second-year class. I’m at Harvard to learn more about his work, so I can be a more patient and understanding wife.

Ruth: We came to Harvard to be lawyers. Why else?
Marty: It’s truly an asinine question.
Ruth: He’s never gonna take me seriously.
Marty: No, that’s not true. You’re the smartest person here, and you’re gonna be the most prepared. So just stand up and say what you know. At a place like this, that’s all that matters.
Ruth: In my experience, even small mistakes are glaring when you stick out.
Marty: Well, then you’re very lucky. Because you… are very… short.

Professor Freund: Judges are bound by precedence, but they cannot ignore cultural change. A court ought not be affected by the weather of the day, but will be by the climate of the era.

Mr. Greene: Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Graduating top of your class. Law Review at Harvard… and Columbia. I didn’t even know that was possible.
Ruth: Thank you, Mr. Greene. I’ve worked hard.
Greene: Well, you want some white-shoe firm. Big money cases, complex legal maneuvers…
Ruth: No, I think Bibler and Greene is the perfect fit. You handled the Mercer bankruptcy last year.
Greene: Come on. How many have you been to? They all turned you down, right? How many? Maybe ten?
Ruth: Twelve.
Greene: A woman, a mother, and a Jew to boot. I’m surprised that many let you through the door.
Ruth: One sent me to interview for the secretarial pool. Another told me I’d be too busy at bake sales to be effective. One partner closes his clients in the locker room at his club, so he said I’d be out of the loop. Last week, I was told women are too emotional to be lawyers. Then that same afternoon, that a… a woman graduating top of her class must be a real ballbuster and wouldn’t make a good colleague. I was asked when I’d have my next baby. And whether I keep Shabbat. One interviewer told me I had a sterling resume, but they hired a woman last year, and what in the world would they want with two of us?[/b]

Greene then provides her with another excuse for not hiring women: jealous wives.

[b]Marty: Did you get the job? You got the job. That’s wonderful. Oh! So they’re gonna give you a corner office, or are you still gonna have to jump through some hoops?
Ruth: It’s not at Bibler and Greene. I wasn’t what they were looking for.
Marty: That’s okay. I told you one of those other firms would come back. Which one was it?
Ruth: Clyde Ferguson left his professorship at Rutgers. They haven’t found another black man to replace him, so someone thought a woman would be the next best thing.
Marty: You can’t quit. There are more firms out there. This is the biggest city in the most litigious country in the history of the planet. You can still…
Ruth: Marty, I got a job. Just open the champagne. Let’s celebrate.

Marty: You know what I think? I think this is good. I think it’s better. You won’t be beholden to any firm, you won’t have a partner breathing down your neck, and also, a professor is free to represent any client she chooses.
Ruth: As long as they don’t mind a lawyer who’s never actually practiced law.

Ruth [to her class]: I am Professor Ginsburg. This is Sex Discrimination and the Law. Some of my colleagues will tell you that sex discrimination doesn’t exist, that I may as well be teaching the legal rights of gnomes and fairies.

Ruth [to the class]: Ten years ago, Dorothy Kenyon asked a question: If the law differentiates on the basis of sex, then how will women and men ever become equals? And the Supreme Court answered: They won’t. Hoyt lost her appeal. The decision was unanimous. Discrimination on the basis of sex is legal.

Ruth: I want to know where you were.
Jane [her daughter]: Denise and I went to a rally to hear Gloria Steinem speak…She just started her own magazine. She testified in the Senate about…
Ruth: Yeah, I know who Gloria Steinem is. What if you got hurt or arrested?
Jane: Mom, it’s a rally, not a riot.
Ruth: Jane, these things can get out of hand.
Jane: Okay, well, I’m 15 years old, and you don’t need to control every minute of my life.
Ruth: Yes, I do. That is my job. And your job is to go to school and learn.
Jane: Well, Gloria says we need to unlearn the status quo.
Ruth: Oh, so you’re on a first-name basis now?
Jane: You know what, Mom? If you want to sit around with your students and talk about how shitty it is to be a girl, okay, but don’t pretend it’s a movement. It’s not a movement if everyone’s just sitting. That’s a support group.

Marty: Just tell me what you want.
Ruth: Nothing. I want nothing. I-I want you to go to work and wow your bosses and clients and be the youngest partner in the history of the firm.
Marty: That’s not fair. That’s not fair, and you know it.
Ruth: Then I want you to walk me home, Marty, so I can sit in my corner and write a lesson plan to inspire the next generation of students to go forth and fight for equality.
Marty: I don’t understand why you’re acting like that’s such a bad thing. You’re out there training the next generation of lawyers to change the world.
Ruth: 'Cause that’s what I wanted to do!!!

Ruth: Marty… Section 214 of the tax code assumes a caregiver has to be a woman. This is sex-based discrimination against a man.
Marty: Poor guy.
Ruth: If a federal court ruled that this law is unconstitutional, then it could become the precedent others refer to and build on. Men and women both. It-it… It could topple the whole damn system of discrimination…Oh, Marty. We need to take this case.

Ruth: Mel, you must see the…the opportunity this case represents.
Mel: You think the judges are gonna be sympathetic just ‘cause they all have prostates? Men and women all eat at the same lunch counters, they drink at the same water fountains, they go to the same schools…
Ruth: Women can’t attend Dartmouth.
Mel: Men can’t go to Smith.
Ruth: Women police officers can’t patrol New York City streets. We have to get…We have to get credit cards in our husbands’ names.
Mel: You’re not a minority. You’re 51% of the population! And it’s been tried. Muller, Goesaert, Gwendolyn Hoyt.
Ruth: Yeah, and morally, they were right.
Mel: Yet they lost. Ruth… morality does not win the day. Look around you. Dorothy Kenyon could not get women equality by arguing a case with sex, murder and prison time on the line. You and Marty think you’re gonna do it with this guy and his taxes?

Charles: So, if it’s not for the money…why are you here?
Ruth: The 14th Amendment to the United States Constitution says all people must be treated equally under the law. Yet there are…I don’t know how many laws like the caregiver deduction that say, in effect, women stay home, men go to work, and that it should stay that way forever. I want to convince the federal courts that those laws are unconstitutional.
Charles: How do you do that?
Ruth: One case at a time. Starting with yours.
Charles: So I’m a guinea pig?
Ruth: No, sir. You’re the man marching out ahead of the band, leading the way. Just like that drum major you used to be.

Marty: So, how was your day?
[Ruth hands him an index card]
Marty: “History discloses that woman has always been dependent upon man. Like children, she needs special care. This justifies a difference in legislation…”
Ruth: Muller v. Oregon, the law of the land. Or Bradwell v. Illinois. “The destiny of woman is the benign offices of wife and mother. This is the law of the Creator.” I’m writing this brief and citing the same cases with the exact same precedents as everyone before us. Marty, if this is what we go in with, we’re gonna lose.

Dorothy: You ladies look lost. Well, spit it out.
Ruth: Miss Kenyon, w-we’re here to see you. I tried to make an appointment…
Dorothy: Well, here I am. I don’t have all day.
Ruth: It’s about Gwendolyn Hoyt.
Dorothy: In that case, I have no interest in talking to either one of you.
Ruth: I’m-I’m arguing a case. Sex discrimination violates the Equal Protection principle.
Doprothy: Equal Protection was coined to grant equality to the Negro, a task at which it has dismally failed. What makes you think women would fare any better?
Ruth: Please, if we could just talk for…
Dorothy: You want to know how I blew it… is that it? What I’d do differently? Why? You think you can change the country?
[she turns toward Jane]
Dorothy: You should look to her generation. They’re taking to the streets, demanding change, like we did when we fought for the vote. Our mistake was thinking we’d won. We started asking, “please,” as if civil rights were sweets to be handed out by judges.
Ruth: Protests are important, but changing the culture means nothing if the law doesn’t change. As a lawyer, you must believe that.
Dorothy: Let me guess. You’re a professor, aren’t you? A ton of knowledge and no smarts.

Dorothy: Tell your client she won’t find equality in a courtroom.
Ruth: My client’s name is Charles Moritz.
Dorothy: That’s cute.
Ruth: He hired a nurse to take care of his mother, but…he was denied a caregiver deduction on his taxes.
Dorothy: He’s never been married. You found a bachelor taking care of his mother at home. The judges will be repulsed by him.
Ruth: Feeling anything is a start.
Dorothy: What did you say your name was?
Ruth: Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
Dorothy: Well…sorry, Professor Ginsburg. Maybe someday. But the country isn’t ready. Change minds first, then change the law.

Millicent: May I make an observation, Professor Ginsgurg? It’s just…when I was typing it up, jumping out all over the brief was… well… sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. It reeks of hormones and back seats, and… you know how men are. Maybe you should try a less distracting word. Maybe… “gender.”

Dorothy: In 1776, Abigail Adams wrote her husband a letter. “As you write this new constitution,” she said, “remember the ladies.” You know what that bastard went ahead and did?
Mel: Well, I can guess.

Mel: All right. The ACLU is prepared to put their name on your brief…I still say I’d rather be a woman in this country than a black man or a… socialist or a religious minority.
Ruth: Now, let’s talk about you taking on Reed v. Reed.
Mel: Oh…Stop.
Ruth: All men in Idaho are better at math?
Mel: Ruth, I gave you one case. That’s all you get.
Ruth: The Moritz argument works just as well for a female client. And Reed’s a state supreme court case, which means the U.S. Supreme Court must hear the appeal.
Mel: I-I told you, I don’t want another 50-year battle.

Griswold: Ten years I fought to enroll women at Harvard Law. The faculty, the university, my wife warned me against it. Now I’m solicitor general, it comes back to haunt me.
Ernest: Erwin, we could settle. Martin Ginsburg was one of my best students, a practical young man… we can call him, tell him we’ll give the man his money and go our separate ways.
Griswold: No. No. We settle now, it’s open season. Let’s put this idea of gender discrimination to bed once and for all. They handed us a winnable case.
Ernest: Then we’ll win it.
Griswold: You think he’s up to it?
Ernest: Oh, Mr. Bozarth is a fine litigator. Tell him your idea.
Jim: We list the laws.
Griswold: What laws?
Jim: All of them. Every federal law that treats men and women differently. We show the court exactly what kind of can of worms these folks are trying to open.

Griswold: We don’t want so-called gender discrimination finding its way to the Supreme Court.
Jim: Yes, sir, I understand that.
Woman: What-what makes this judge so difficult?
Jim: Well, ma’am, he’s a civil rights crusader. Two years ago, he ordered Denver to start busing black students to white schools. There were protests, arson, demands for him to quit the bench. But even after someone threw a bomb at his house, Doyle wouldn’t budge.
Griswold: In that case, he was enforcing the law. The Ginsburgs are asking him to make law. We need to drive home the difference. Paint the judges a picture of the America that will exist if they rule the wrong way. Children running home from school to find no one’s there.
Ernest: Mommy’s at the office or on a factory floor.
Griswold: Man and woman vie for the same job, she can work for less. What is a man without a paycheck to take care of his family?
Ernest: What woman would want him?
Jim: Wages would go down. Divorce rates would soar. The very fabric of our society would begin to unravel.
Griswold: Exactly. The other side wants this to be about the Equal Protection principle. The judges are deciding what kind of country, what kind of society they want their children and grandchildren to grow up in. You make sure the court sees what’s at stake is the American family.

Marty: There is no aspect of the law at which Ruth Ginsburg can be bested. I don’t know how things work at the ACLU, but if anyone at my firm couldn’t see that, they would be fired.
Mel: Objection noted, counselor. She’s still arguing half.
Marty: This is her…
Marty: Listen, she’s written a revolutionary argument, but brief writing is an academic’s job. Okay? Oral arguments require a lawyer who can command a judge’s respect. A real appellate lawyer.

Mel: Allen is gonna be arguing in the Supreme Court that times have changed. We can’t afford the Tenth Circuit saying that they haven’t.
Ruth: Nothing would strengthen the argument more than the appeals court deciding for Charlie.
Mel: Yes, that would be very nice, but here in the real world, with working lawyers…
Ruth: You think I can’t be persuasive?
Mel: Oh, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life, Ruth. You don’t get to tell me when to quit. You couldn’t even make it through moot court without embarrassing yourself. You will lose, Ruth. And when you do, you will set the women’s movement back ten years. More. We are dodging a bullet here. Are you the only one that can’t see that?

Jane: Why is Mel Wulf being such a dick?
Ruth: He thinks I’m gonna lose.
Jane: No way, Jose. Not in my experience.
Ruth: As Mr. Moritz’s lawyer, I’m… I’m ethically bound to convey him the offer.
Jane: So would you like help taking apart your life’s work, or… is that something you’d rather do by yourself?

Charlie [on the phone]: And they’ll say it, right? That I’m not a cheater, that the law is unfair?
Ruth: No, Charlie, the government won’t say that on its own.
Charlie: But if they don’t say it, how will I have won?
Ruth: You…you haven’t. But you…you get the money.
Charlie: What about everyone else? When you came to see me, you said…
Ruth: Charlie, the settlement is only for you. No one else can benefit.
Charlie: But could we win?
Ruth: Well…we could, and…and the impact would last generations. But the ACLU feels… it’s best if you take the offer.
Charlie: But you’re my lawyer, Ruth. What do you think?

Ruth: My client was very excited about your offer.
Griswold: Good. Good.
Ruth: He did, however, have some conditions.
Griswold: Conditions? What kind of conditions?
Ruth: First of all, he’d like you to forgive a hundred percent of the money. None of this one dollar business. And he’d like the government to concede that he did nothing wrong. And enter into the court record that Section 214 of the tax code discriminates on the basis of sex and is therefore unconstitutional.
Griswold: I can’t agree to that. And you know it.
Ernest: Does Mel Wulf know about this?
[Ruth says nothing]
Ernest: Then we’ll see you in court.

Marty: You’re ready for this. You’ve been ready for this your whole life. So go in there and let the judges see the Ruth Ginsburg I know.

Judge Holloway: Uh, Mrs. Ginsburg, you are aware that the government has three coequal branches? Mrs. Ginsburg?
Ruth: Yes, of course, Your Honor.
Judge Holloway: And that it is the Congress’s role to write law?
Ruth [somewhat testily]: Your Honor, I understand how government works.
Judge Holloway: Well, uh, sometimes a law, even a good law, even a law that is legal under the Constitution, may not be good for every individual it affects.
Judge Doyle: I have a question. If I understand correctly, you’re concerned about men and women being pigeonholed into certain roles based on gender.
Ruth: Yes, that’s correct.
Judge Doyle: Uh, that wasn’t my question. It strikes me that the caregiver deduction does the opposite. It helps women be able to work outside the home. Isn’t that a good thing?
Ruth: But the law assumes it must be the woman who is supposed to be at home in the first place.
Judge Holloway: Well, that is the case in every family I know. So it’s the assumption that’s the problem.
Judge Daugherty: Then when can a law differentiate on the basis of sex? Never?
Ruth: When the classification rationally relates to the law.
Judge Holloway: Keeping women out of combat, for example.
Ruth: I’m not sure whether I agree with that example…
Judge Daugherty: Oh, so you think women belong on the front lines now, too?
Ruth:
No, that’s not what… Gender, like race, is a biological, unalterable trait. There is nothing that women are inherently better at than men, nor vice versa.
Judge Holloway: Growing a beard? Lactation?
Ruth: No thinking person could possibly imagine that Charles Moritz’s gender relates to his abilitt…
Judge Doyle: Why can’t we, Mrs. Ginsburg? In most households, aren’t women the primary caregivers? Aren’t men the breadwinners? Aren’t they?
Ruth: Most households, yes, Your Honor.
Judge Doyle: Doesn’t that reality suggest that that’s the natural order of things?

Jim: Congress created this tax deduction to help caregivers go out and work. Caregivers. Folks that, if they weren’t working, would stay home. Now, are we meant to believe that this man would have the skill or even the caregiver’s instinct to do that?
Judge Doyle: Why can’t we believe that? Why does an unwed woman have that instinct but not an unwed man? Or a widower, for that matter?
Jim: Well, respectfully, Judge Doyle, a widower doesn’t choose to be a caregiver. It’s thrust upon them. And as for women, it doesn’t take a legal treatise to prove what a hundred thousand years of human history has made indelibly clear.
Judge Doyle: And Congress can write the tax code to enforce this natural law?
Jim: Congress can write whatever tax code it wants. All I’m saying, Judge, is that given the natural order of things, this man, Mr. Moritz, hasn’t suffered as a result. But the country will suffer if the court doesn’t find for the appellee.

Jim: Your Honors, I am certain there isn’t a man among us who wouldn’t try to ease his wife’s burdens. So I don’t see how we can judge negatively the members of Congress who would do the same. And I’m not alone in that. There is a long and honorable tradition in the courts of upholding laws like this one. I, for one, would rather see my government err on the side of caring too much…of trying too hard to help the ladies of this country, rather than to be indifferent to their unique burdens. Now, maybe Mr. Moritz disagrees. Or maybe he just doesn’t like paying taxes. Personally, I don’t believe that. I believe that Charles Moritz is a victim. Not of his government, but of the lawyers who have used his case to achieve their own ends. Radical social change.

Judge Holloway: Counsel for the appellant, you have four minutes for rebuttal.[/b]

Marty starts to rise, but Ruth grabs his arm…she’ll make the rebuttal argument.

[b]Ruth: “Radical social change.” When I was in law school, there was no women’s bathroom. It’s amazing to me now that we never complained. Not because we were timid; we were just astounded to be in law school at all. A hundred years ago, Myra Bradwell wanted to be a lawyer. She had fulfilled the requirements for the Illinois bar, but she wasn’t allowed to practice because she was a woman. An injustice she asked the Supreme Court to correct. Illinois was so confident of victory, they didn’t even send a lawyer to argue their side. They were right. She lost. That was the first time someone went to court to challenge his or her prescribed gender role. A hundred years ago. “Radical… social… change.” 65 years ago, when women in Oregon wanted to work overtime and make more money, as men could, the court looked to the precedent in Bradwell and said no. So then there were two precedents. Then three, then four, and on and on, and you can draw a direct line from Myra Bradwell to Gwendolyn Hoyt, told ten years ago she was not entitled to a jury of her peers. That is the legacy the government asks you to uphold today. You are being urged to protect the culture and traditions and morality of an America that no longer exists. A generation ago, my students would have been arrested for indecency for wearing the clothes that they do. 65 years ago, it would have been unimaginable that my daughter would aspire to a career. And a hundred years ago…I would not have the right to stand before you. There are 178 laws that differentiate on the basis of sex. Count them. The government did the favor of compiling them for you. And while you’re at it…I urge you to read them. They’re obstacles to our children’s aspirations.
Judge Doyle: You’re asking us to overturn nearly a century of precedent.
Ruth: I’m asking you to set a new precedent, as courts have done before when the law is outdated.
Judge Doyle: But in those cases, the courts had a clear constitutional handle. The word “woman” does not appear even once in the U.S. Constitution.
Ruth: Nor does the word “freedom,” Your Honor.

Judge Holloway [after her time is up]: Go on… Professor Ginsburg.
Ruth: The principal purpose of Section 214 is not to protect women nor to discriminate against men. It is to provide caregivers the opportunity to work outside the home. Therefore, as the Supreme Court did in Levy v. Louisiana, this court should fix the law most in line with the legislative intent. Extend the deduction to never-married men. Help all caregivers equally. Charles Moritz was well-raised to be the sort of man we should all hope our sons will become. Charlie deserves our admiration. Not only has he taken on the burden of caring for his very strong-willed mother when no one would expect it of him, but in doing so, he has surpassed the limitations the rest of us and our laws seek to force upon him. We’re not asking you to change the country. That’s already happened without any court’s permission. We’re asking you to protect the right of the country to change. Our sons and daughters are barred by law from opportunities based on assumptions about their abilities. How will they ever disprove these assumptions if laws like Section 214 are allowed to stand? We all must take these laws on, one by one, for as long as it takes, for their sakes. You have the power to set the precedent that will get us started. You can right this wrong. We rest our case on our briefs and argument, and ask… that you reverse the tax court’s decision.

Mel: Kiki! That was perfect. That was perfect.
Ruth: We don’t even know who won.
Mel: Doesn’t matter. It was right.
Ruth: This is just the beginning.
Mel: Mm! I’m gonna go gloat.[/b]

First, the films about musicians that almost all of us are familiar with. Big time celebrity films.

Here in fact is just one particular list compiling what someone is convinced is the top 30: imdb.com/list/ls074495725/

And then there’s this film. It’s about Blaze Foley. And chances are that, like me, you had no idea that he was “the unsung songwriting legend of the Texas Outlaw Music movement.”

In fact chances are you don’t even know the significance of not knowing that.

And then, finally, chances are there are any number of other legends out there that truly do mean the world to one or another relatively small number of people…and almost nothing at all to the rest of us.

And some of them no doubt would not have had it any other way.

But “outlaws” have always appealed to me. And, as well, so has the writing and the acting of Ethan Hawke. Here I get to react to his directing. And, over at RT, 95% of the 88 critics that did view the film gave him a big thumbs up.

Then [of course] this part: What’s actually true?

Well, it’s the “inspiration” for a “reimagining” of a life. And Blaze Foley just happened to have one of those lives that some will describe as being a lot wilder than yours and mine. Larger than life itself as some say. But what does that really mean until you have something to compare it to?

Same with being “wild” itself. Compared to what? And while being wild works for some, for others it’s just another word for being an asshole. You being wild at the expense of them. And this is “good ole boy” wild. Smack dab in the middle of the Texas outback.

And fuck all that is always going to be the reaction of some.

IMDb

[b]Blaze Foley’s lover Sybil Rosen, who is played in the film by Alia Shawkat, is Ethan Hawke’s co-writer on the film.

Sybil Rosen plays her own mother in the film.

Ethan Hawke decided to make a biopic of Blaze Foley, a musician who was little known in his lifetime, because he found it important to make a point that it is not only the lives of celebrities that are worth showing on the screen.[/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blaze_(2018_film
trailer: youtu.be/sXvwFdTTwhI

Blaze [2018]
Written in part and directed by Ethan Hawke

Blaze: There’s no such thing as defeat in non-violence No such thing as defeat in non-violence No such thing as defeating non-violence
Zee: What are you talking about?
Blaze: I’m talking about Caesar Chavez. A man with gumption and focus and organization! If the world had 12 more Caesar Chavez’s it would be a much more peaceful place. The fact of the matter is this, the world is an organism. I’m a cell, youse a cell, he’s a cell, she’s a cell. And people like Caesar Chavez are these super white blood cells coming to eradicate all the free radicals. Wa-ha!..

And on and on and on

[b]Man in recording studio: Hey? Cowboy! You’ve been kicked out of every bar south of Virginia. ‘Cause you’re a pathetic drunk. That makes me your last fuckin’ chance! I don’t give a fuck about… Star Wars. The Russians can shove it up your fuckin’ ass, I don’t care. If Ethiopians eat goddamn sand and Jessie Jackson can shove the fuckin’ Rainbow Coalition up his goddamn ass! But you, you son of a bitch are gonna start fuckin’ singin’ right the fuck now! Blaze: You’re not in control of me, you fucking Nazi. Not for a second you ain’t.

Townes: There’s this guy, right? He’s really, really drunk. He’s, like, knee-walkin’ drunk. And, uh, he walks out of this bar and he, uh walks right in to this big old police officer… And that police officer goes, “Hey, man what’s going on?” And he says, “Oh, well, officer, man, I’m glad I found you. I lost my car!” And he says, “Well, where was your car?” He says, “It was right here on the end of this key!”

Townes [to the radio DJ]: See, Blaze was a, he was a buddy of ours, a real buddy. You know, obviously a fellow songwriter. And only went crazy once, Blaze. Just once. But he stayed there. He was shot and killed.

Sybil [practicing lines]: “There are a great many things a man cannot understand. Any girl would rather love an unfortunate man than a fortunate one because every girl would like to do something by loving. A man has his work, so for him love is always kept in the background. To talk to his wife and walk with her in the garden and to pass the time…pleasantly with her that is all that love means to a man. But… but for us love means life.”

Sybil: I’m Sybil by the way.
Blaze: I’m Deputy Dawg.
Sybil: No, you’re not. Deputy Dawg?
Blaze: You like Blaze better?
Sybil: What’s your real name?
Blaze: It was Mike Fuller, but, uh I ditched that when I lost 150 pounds.
Sybil: You lost 150 pounds?
Blaze: You wanna see my stretch marks?
Sybil: Is that your best line?
Blaze: Ah! Nope. My best line, “Picture cards can’t picture you.”
Sybil: How’d you lose all that weight?
Blaze: Thorazine.

Sybil: So you’re gonna be a big country star like Roger Miller? Huh?
Blaze: I don’t wanna be a star. I wants to be a legend.
Sybil: What’s the, what’s the difference, deputy?
Blaze: Well, Stars burn out 'cause they shine for themselves. Look at me shine, look at me glow. I’m amazing. Legend lasts forever. A legend stands for something. Something that matters, you know?
Sybil: Well, do you think that’s possible? You… you could live forever?
Blaze: People can’t, but a song can.

Blaze: Where do you think confidence comes from?
Sybil: I don’t know. Thinking you’re the best?
Blaze: That’s not real confidence. Can I tell you where I think it comes from?
Sybil: Mm-hm, okay.
Blaze: I think confidence is a consolation prize for knowing that you’re alive. I do. Some years back, you weren’t even here. And now you’re here. Knowin’ that you’re here’s…Couple years, you won’t be here again. Knowin that you’re here’s kinda a rarity as a human being. It seems too simple but it’s true I think. Next time you’re on stage remember, you got a heart beatin’ in your chest. There’s lungs filling up with air. All that stuff is really happenin’. All these little melodramas people make up for themself they don’t mean anything. I think that’s the way it is. You have it though. I’ve seen it.
Sybil: Yeah, as long as you’re around.
Blaze: That’s not true. You have it when you’re walking across the room. And you fill other people with it because you remind them that they’re alive. Bet you didn’t know that?
Sybil: No, I didn’t.
Blaze: Well, now you do.

Sybil [to Blaze]: It’s gone.

Townes [at the radio interview]: See, it was just like his songs there was two kinds of Blaze. Some folks met one some folks met the other one. And one of ‘em was just plain wild. Lots of folks knew that one. But now the other one, that one was different. He was big, he was kind and gentle.
Zee: But sometimes he could get bitter.
Townes: You know, you’d never know by lookin’ at him. But he was a spiritual, almost righteous.
Zee: I guess you could say he took a vow of poverty and saw everything through that lens.

Mr Rosen [Sybil’s father]: We are a Jewish family. Yes. If we have grandchildren, we would want them to be Jewish.
Blaze: I got it.
Mr. Rosen: I noticed you haven’t asked for Sybil’s hand. Is that somethin’ you were planning on doing?
Sybil: Dad. No, no, Dad, Dad. Please. Let’s not be ridiculous, okay? If Blaze wants to marry me we have to talk about it first. Of course I respect the past, but the past has a lot of ugliness to it that I think we’re all trying to change in the future. I don’t want to spend my life cleaning up some man’s socks and I definitely don’t want to be handed out as if I am something that’s owned. If Blaze wants my hand, he has to ask me. And if I say yes, then, we will ask for your blessing. And if you don’t give it to us, we’ll do it anyway.

Mr. Rosen: Blaze, is your faith important to you?
Blaze: Is my faith important to me? I’m not dead positive I know what you mean…
Mr. Rosen: Your identity as a Christian is that fundamental to your integrity?
Blaze: I got ya. Mr. Rosen, Christianity didn’t do much more than kick my ass every day including Sunday. It taught me to sing, but, uh… the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, so… No, not terribly important. That would be a nay.

Sybil: I think it’s time for you to peddle your songs.
Blaze: Oh, yeah?
Sybil: Yeah. Change of pace. You know? Your songs are getting so good right now, they really are.
Blaze: Are you sure you’re ready to leave paradise?
Sybil: I just think you need an audience. I can’t be the only one who knows your songs forever.

Marsha [Blaze’s sister]: Well, here we are, the singing Fuller family. That was us. Churches and revivals for bed and board.
Blaze: Sybil, they used to pay us in canned goods. He’d trade 'em in for a bottle of Thunderbird. Mama would grap the flute and play the ukulele. You’d get drunk in the parking lot.
Marsha: Can’t believe we was ever afraid of you, huh?
Blaze: Think I better die young before I end up in a place like this, eh?
Marsha: No, you ain’t like him, Mike.

Marsha [hand kin hand with Blaze and Sybil]: Dear Lord Jesus, we thank you for this life and thy many blessings. When our daddy passes from this Earth try to do for him what all of us here could not. And if you gotta drop his sorry ass off in the fire pits of hell, let it be. Your will, not ours, Lord. And please, Lord Jesus, knock on Mike’s heart and open up that door of forgiveness that you opened for me. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

Sybil: What’s all this?
Blaze [in the tub drunk]: I wrote you a song.
Sybil: I see that. It’s all over our walls.
Blaze: Well, I couldn’t find any paper.

Blaze [to the audience in a bar]: To my way of thinkin’ every human being person’s life is sorta dedicated to trying to perfectify the universe we’s livin’ in. We’re all kinda born into this world into our own dark little rooms. With these shackles wrapped around our feets. Shackles made up from our parents, grandparents religions, countries, phony ideas. And we got to sit there in the dark and try to redeem and gather up these sparks that are flyin’ around all around us. And they are flying around us all the time. No denying that, believe me. I try to gather up these sparks and turn 'em into songs. We can all sit in our own little dark room and gather up these sparks and form them into a perfect key. Voila. It’s freedom.

Blaze [to the audience]: Drivin’ up, I was thinking about Mississippi River and Muddy Waters and where he came from and all the different blues’ artists that had come from Chicago and all the blues that dropped into the Mississippi River and never made it into anybody’s ears. Never got saturated out into the delta, you know? And where did they go? Maybe they ended up in the Gulf of Mexico. A lot of the shellfish singin’ the blues.

Sybil [after a drunken Blaze is thrown out of a bar]: Stop it. You’re drunk!
Blaze: Of course, I’m drunk. So what if I’m fucking drunk? You don’t even know why I drink!
Sybil: Oh why don’t you explain it to me then?
Blaze: 'Cause you wouldn’t fucking like me on Thorazine.

Sybil: Why are you letting this get to you? You’re better than this. You must know that. Look at me. I worked damn hard for that guitar, you know that. Why do you think I did it? Why? You don’t know why? It’s because I love you. I fucking love you, do you understand?
Blaze: Sybil, don’t give me this fucking greeting card horse-shit. This isn’t greeting card…
[he flings the guitar out into the street…a truck runs over it]
Blaze: There’s your guitar…

Sybil [to Blaze]: I think my days of being your muse are over.

Blaze [sobbing]: You’re a part of me, Sybil, no matter what. And the feelings we have for one another are real. And it’s real love. But there’s other stuff going on out there. There’s things that are pullin’ at me and they’re pulling hard. Things that aren’t love. I don’t know why, but…I have to let them take me.

DJ: How come all the, the songs you sing are so sad?
Townes: Well, you know, uh, they’re not all sad. They’re not all that sad. Maybe there’s a couple of 'em, you know, that are just…just maybe just hopeless. See, you’re gonna meet all kinds of ding-a-lings in this line of work. But you can’t fake this. You can’t just, uh, wear a tiger suit and run with the tigers.

Oilman: Zephyr Oil & Trading. We made a little money on an oil patch and now we’re ready to make some vinyl. We seen you there pickin’ in Texas we put our money on you. We believe Blaze Foley ought to be the headliner for our new record label, Zephyr Records. Zephyr. Like the wind. Whoosh…Let’s record a single, get it on the radio then we make an album.

Townes [to the DJ]: If you want to write a song. If you want to really write a song, everyone’s gonna tell you that, uh, you gotta live that song. But that is not it. You’re gonna have to die a little.

Townes: The first time that I ever met Blaze was in New York City at the Lonestar Cafe. When he was openin’ up for Kinky. See, people make a livin’ all day long writin’ but really the only thing they’re sellin’ is hot dogs. And hot dogs is just eyeballs and insides all smushed together with a whole lotta salt added. The thing about Blaze is he was not sellin’ eyeballs.

Townes: I’m sure this has happened to you. It’s a kooky thing, but it happens to me all the time. It’s like a reoccurring waking nightmare. Let’s say you’re doing a gig. And everything’s just goin’ but then all of a sudden, way in the back of the hall you see this dude standing back there. He’s the only guy standing up. So you keep the show going, doing some songs you’re talking to the people, then all of a sudden he starts to move a little bit closer. It’s just as soon as he gets right up to the stage, huh? So when he starts to reach into the inside of his jacket. Oh…You know, I always think of this same thing every time. Jesus, Lord, I hope that’s a gun. And, man, it never is. It never is. It’s never…It’s always a harmonica.

DJ: Tell me, how did you, uh… Uh… uh, was there a certain reason that you became a folk singer? What… what is it that drives you?
Townes: Well…Once I started to do a little gigs around town and you know, playin’ a little bit I guess at one point where I thought, “Man, I can really do this. I can really do this.” But it takes blowing everything off. You know. It takes blowing family off and…job security, happiness. Just gotta blow it all off. And just get a guitar and, and go.

Sybil: You really made it, huh?
Blaze: Well, we just heard in a couple weeks Willie Nelson’s gonna record “If I Could Only Fly.”
Sybil: No.
Blaze: Yeah.
Sybil: No. Oh, wow!
Blaze: Ain’t it crazy?
Sybil: I mean, I knew it, but I didn’t really know it, you know? I’m, I’m so happy for you.
Blaze: Thank you. How 'bout you? You’re living in New York City doing this Broadway thing. That’s a big deal.
Sybil: Off…Off Broadway. I only got one line.
Blaze: One line? So what it is?
Sybil: Asshole.

Blaze [up on the stage]: This next number is called. “My Existential Journey into Quasimodo’s. Quasar Monitorial Anti-Bilateral. Underneath the Porny, uh, Daydream.”

Oilman: Hey! White trash fucktard! You don’t you get it, do you? We were your shot. You fucked us! We were workin’ for you. Think we’re goin’ to pay this bill? You not only just shot yourself in the foot it ricocheted on the floor and hit you in the head, dummy!..Hey, you know what? You coulda been a star, cocksucker. But you just wanted to be cool. You just wanted to drink Tequila Sunrises until our company went under. Guess what? Ding, ding. You win!!!

Townes: Let’s say you’re at a party and, uh, the party’s goin’ on. And you’re sittin’ on the window sill, just talkin’. And then, uh, you just start wonderin’ like, what it would…what would it be like… you know to fall. I mean, like, really fall. And if you don’t do it, you’re not gonna know. So the next, you’re just fallin’ back. I mean, you just fall.

Blaze [out loud with no one around, sobbing]: Great God Almighty, baby, you’ve found me. You dug me up. I don’t know why you did, but you did. You did it with your voice. And your eyes. And your lips and your intelligence. And I’m not even talkin’ about what it’s like to be inside of you. You’ve got such goodness in you. Such kindness in you and you’re funny too. And, me? Me never see it. It didn’t mean though that I wasn’t no coffin wise old man. And youse my funny female pirate. What’s better than a sexy pirate with pretty skin and pretty titties. I had a little bit of love, enough to put into some songs but not enough to put toward the baby. Not enough for a full grown woman. Not enough love for little Miss Sybil. I’ve been lookin’ for you for a long time. Do you think we’re born knowing how to love? I think you were.

Sybil: I’m scared.
Blaze: What’s you scared of?
Sybil: I’m scared of fucking all of it up. I feel like we’re living in the Garden of Eden, you know? And I feel like I’m smart enough. I’m smart enough to know that I am. But I don’t know if I’m smart enough to stay.

Townes [to the DJ]: You see, to a man with an empty plate just a crumb becomes a feast. You know, Blaze, he understood the importance of zero. The value, zero. Pretty out there, huh? It’s not out there to him. It’s just out there to everybody else.[/b]

One of those films that includes one of those scenes that catches you completely off guard.

Well, maybe not you, but I was definitely not expecting it.

Okay, these two women are in a relationship. They’re married. But we sense problems. And we don’t know either the backstory or the depth of these travails.

But what we don’t suspect is that the depth is considerably more troubling for one than for the other. After all, how else to explain that scene?

And, in reacting to it, the first thing that will pop into the heads of just a teeny tiny few of us of us is how this all fits into a postmodern world in which you can never really be sure that what you think about someone you are in a relationship with is what they are thinking in turn. You just can’t know for certain what is really going on inside their head.

Ah, but you don’t expect that this gap will be that wide.

Not to the point where it culminates in a scene like this. At least not for you and your spouse.

And, really, the odds are still overwhelmingly in your favor. That sort of thing isn’t actually probable. It’s just that you watch films like this and you realize it is not altogether impossible. Especially if you are addicted to shows like Dateline or 48 Hours. Here that sort of thing happens all the time.

Then this part:

Jackie: It’s nature not nurture. I’m free in all the ways you’re not. You’re trapped by emotions. Weighed down by guilt. Your conscience isn’t a source of strength. It’s your Achilles heel.

So: Some will see this as just another film in the “cat and mouse thriller” genre. But that’s always the least of it for folks like me.

IMDb

In the early stages of the film’s development, the main characters were a husband and wife rather than a same-sex couple.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_Keeps_You_Alive
trailer: youtu.be/4Z-QCJRZAnA

What Keeps You Alive [2018]
Written and directed by Colin Minihan

[b]Jules: I have a confession to make. I think I love this place more than you.
Jackie: That wouldn’t surprise me.
Jules: I mean, I could never, but it’s close, like, really close.

Jackie: Can I help you?
Sarah: Megan? Jesus! Is that you? It’s me. Sarah. God, it’s been a really long time. I…I didn’t even know that you still came around here.
Jackie: Sarah. Yeah. It’s bee…forever. This is Julie. My…my wife.

Jules: You have a place around here too?
Sarah: Yeah! Yeah just on the other side of the lake. Megan and I used to get into all kinds of trouble around here as kids.
Jules [turning toward Jackie]: Is that right…Megan?

Jackie [to Jules after Sarah leaves]: I can explain…

Jules [aloud to herself]: Megan, Megan, Megan, Megan. Megan. Fucking Jackie.
Jackie [walking down to the lake]: Hey! You wanna take the boat out?
Jules: What do you want? Whoever you are.
Jackie: Please. I never liked the name. It never felt like me. And when I figured out who I was. That I was gay…I changed it. I should’ve mentioned it to you before. I’m sorry, Jules. That’s not who I am anymore.

Jules [after ineptly firing a rifle]: Target practice is enough for me. Killing for sport isn’t exactly my thing.
Jackie: Killing for sport is not what hunting is. Trust me.

Sarah: Sorry, I just want to straighten this up but did, did Megan not tell you anything about Jenny?
Jules: Uh…no. Never. Why? What is it?
Sarah: Well…I guess it’s a little bit strange, don’t you think? I mean, that was a really big deal for us.

Jackie: Is everything okay?
Jules: Yeah.
Jackie: You’re not a good liar, Jules. You haven’t said more than a few words to me all day.
Jules: Why didn’t you tell me about Jenny? Your childhood friend. Sarah, she made it sound like you had something to do…
Jackie: Wait. Wait. You saw Sarah?

Jackie: One summer, Jenny challenged me. I was about half way across the lake. And I started cramping up, so I…I stopped. I looked around to see where she was and I, I couldn’t find her. The search and rescue pulled her body out of the lake two days later. And the police questioned me. I was cleared of any wrongdoing. I would never have done anything to hurt Jenny. She was my…my best friend.

Jackie: Do you really think that I…
Jules: No, no, no. I don’t know…I don’t know what I thought.

Jules: Jackie, this view is just…

Jackie [rehearsing her call to 911 in the house]: “She fell off a cliff. My wife, she fell off a cliff. Oh, my God! Please help me. Okay, okay, okay. 911? It’s my wife, she…she fell off a cliff… I don’t know what happened, she…Just wake up, babe. Please. Oh, my God, she’s not responding. She’s not responding… She’s not breathing. Oh, can you please save her? She fell off a…She fell off a cliff. She, my God. Oh, God, I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do?” [/b]

But: she goes back to the scene of the crime: no Jules.

[b]Jackie [looking for Jules in the forest]: Baby, where are you? Are you okay? Ah! Let’s go home. Baby! Where are you? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Are you okay? Please just call out if you can hear me, okay? Baby? Baby, talk to me. It was an accident I swear, I don’t know what happened…

Jackie [the mask now off]: Jules! Where are you? I’m done playing around. You must be confused. I mean, why would your wife do this to you, right? You’re probably thinking. “Maybe she’s had a psychotic break.” After all, we’re in love, right?

Jackie [finally catching up to Jukes]: Nice try! Don’t you even dare, Jules. We’ll work this out. I promise. Now, don’t move.
Jules: Why are you doing this? What, what the hell is wrong with you?
Jackie: We’re not doing this right now, Jules.
Jules: What the hell is wrong with you?
Jackie: We’re not doing this right now, Jules!
Daniel [Sarah’s husband from the shore]: Everything okay, ladies? You alright?

Jackie: There is only one way this works. You fall you die.
Jules: I’m in pain.
Jackie: But of course it has to look like an accident.
Jules: How much?
Jackie: Well, you should know that, Jules. You’re the one that signed the policy.
Jules: Did you ever love me?
Jackie: No.

Jules: What your dad said…to only kill what keeps you alive. This isn’t what he meant. You’re sick, Jackie. But I can get you help. It’s okay. It’s not easy to admit. I understand. But I’ll stay by your side. I will. Please, Jackie. I’ll let it go. All of it.

Jackie: I never told you about my first wife, did I? Erica. We got married when I was only 19. I guess it slipped my mind until now.
Jules: How?
Jackie: We were on vacation. She went swimming after having a few too many. I mourned her. Prayed with her parents. Read at her funeral. I’ll do the same at yours. I know what you’re trying to do, Jules. And this little game that you’re playing right now won’t work.
Jules: How much was she worth?
Jackie: She was priceless.

Jules [to Sarah and Daniel…but more to Jackie]: And even though…even though you can never really know what’s going on inside their head. I mean…really know what’s going on inside. You take the leap anyway and you hope for the best…And you just pray you don’t get the worst.

Daniel: My wife, she…she actually has these ideas about you. Uh, fantasies, really. Oh, man. Mm. I don’t, I shouldn’t say. No, it’s nothing, honestly. It’s…She just has this like, you know, idea that…you know, that you’re like a…you know, little bit of a…
Jackie: A psychopath.

Jackie [to Sarah]: Jenny fought harder…

Jackie: How deep do you think the lake is? Oh, I know. Because I looked it up. And I was debating on whether or not I should drown you in it or toss you off the cliff. It’s 350 feet at its deepest point.
[She brings the ax down on Sarah]
Jackie: This is on you, Jules.

Jules: You didn’t have to kill them.
Jackie: I didn’t kill them. You did. You were looking for an easy way out. And there isn’t one.

Jackie: How many times do I have to tell you, Jules? Blot, don’t scrub! Scrubbing will embed the stain and forensics will spot it right away.

Jules: How come you never mentioned your dad until this trip? You would always just change the subject. Did he do something to you? Or your mom?
Jackie: No. He didn’t. They were happy.
Jules: Then what? What turned you into this monster?
Jackie: It’s nature…not nurture. I’m free in all the ways you’re not. You’re trapped by emotions. Weighed down by guilt. Your conscience isn’t a source of strength. It’s your Achilles heel.

Jules: What are the pliers for?
Jackie: I can’t have you falling off the cliff with stitches in your stomach, can I?

Jules: Do you just enjoy this? This was never about money. Why not just go skin a cat or something? Isn’t that what people like you do on your spare time? I know what it is. You’re just desperate. Aren’t you? To feel something. Anything.
Jackie: Keep talking, Jules. Your words aren’t gonna slow the fall. Nothing is.

Jackie: Pretty brave, Jules. Stupid, but brave.

Jules [aiming a rifle at Jackie]: All those people…they trusted you. I trusted you. You are never going to do this again. I’m not going to let you do it again.
Jackie: If you pull that trigger, Jules you’re more likely to kill yourself than hurt me.
Jules: What are you talking about?
Jackie: It’s an antique. Bullet trap hole is gonna rip your face apart. Hasn’t been fired in 50 years.
Jules: You’re lying.
Jackie: I’m not. Put the gun down, Jules. You’re not a killer.

Jules [from a video she had recorded earlier]: Hey, Jackie. I bet you weren’t expecting to find me here. If you’re watching this then that must mean I’m dead. But that’s not what I’m here to tell you. I wonder how you’re feeling right about now. Probably starting to notice some symptoms. You know, Jackie you should really start paying better attention to what you put in your body. You see, when hydrogen peroxide is injected into the blood stream it creates blood clots that move through the circulatory system. And once those clots reach the brain guess what happens? You have a stroke. God, I really wish I could see the look on your face right now. I wonder how much that would be worth.[/b]

The wife.

And, not unlike the husband, she can only be described in context. After all, does anyone imagine that a wife in 14th century Spain, a wife in 8th century China, a wife in 2nd century Uganda and a wife in 22nd century America, won’t be encompassed in very, very different ways?

Let alone that anyone is able to examine these and hundreds of more historical contexts and announce to the world that, optimally, a wife should be…

This particular wife is considerably more familiar to us. She is interacting with others in our own postmodern world. Feminism has long been a fact of life but her marriage had begun only on the cusp of it. So, she is still one of those women thought of by many in the classic tradition of the Great Man’s Wife. The husband is about to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. He is nothing short of a literary star.

What’s that make her then? What’s that done to their marriage?

Especially given the fact that [as it turns out] she was the one who had actually written the books.

Of course marriage is always going to be a string of compromises. For every thread that binds two people together there is a thread that has begun to unravel. I’ll do this for you, you’ll do that for me. And, through think and thin, we stay together. It always comes down to any particular sets of contingency, chance and change. And the part about power. Who wants the relationship more and what are they willing to tolerate to keep it going? And, what if, despite the unraveling threads, they still do love each other?

And then the scowling son. He wants to be a writer too. He just doesn’t know about Mom.

IMDb

[b]Annie Starke, who plays the young Joan, is the daughter of Glenn Close.

The film has enormous personal relevance for Glenn Close who recalled her own mother, in her 80s, telling her that she felt she had accomplished nothing in her life.

The excerpt by James Joyce that gets quoted twice by Joseph Castleman is the very ending of the short story “The Dead”, from his collection “Dubliners” (1914). There are some parallels between the short story and the movie, especially between the last scene in Joyce’s work and the sequence right after the party celebrating the Nobel Prize. The bedroom scene, after a party, where the wife has some “secret” to reveal is a strong parallel, as well as the shot of the snow “falling softly” on the living and the dead…[/b]

trivia at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt3750872/tr … tt_trv_trv
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wife_(2017_film
trailer: youtu.be/0GzlRB6Rb8s

The Wife [2017]
Directed by Björn Runge

[b]Joan: Don’t.
Joe: Mmm? Don’t what?
Joan: Don’t pretend you’re interested in sex just because you’re climbing the walls.

Arvid [on the phone from the Nobel Foundation]: Mr. Castleman, it is my great honor and pleasure to tell you, Mr. Castleman, that you have been chosen to receive this year’s Nobel Prize in literature.
Joe: Thank you. Thank you very much.
Arvid: Mr. Castleman, we are so delighted to be giving you this prize. Your career has a truly remarkable span to it. Not only do you write with extraordinary intimacy, wit and depth, you have also challenged the novelistic form in ways that will affect generations of writers to come.
Joe [chuckling]: Well, I should be getting something for all the gray in my beard.
Arvid: Indeed, yes. And thank you for doing so on the world’s behalf. Mrs. Castleman?
Joan: Yes.
Arvid: You should know that your husband will be fending off the press today, so what I advise is that you monitor his calls, as it does get quite exhausting.
Joan: Yes, I’ll take good care of him.

Hal: Joanie, get over here. Come.
Joe: The New York Times is here.
Joan: Really?
Joe: Tell her.
Hal: They’re giving your husband the cover of the Sunday Magazine. They’re knocking out a story about Bill Clinton for him.[/b]

This all unfolds in the early 1990s.

[b]Joe [addressing the room]: Finally, I have my beautiful wife, Joan, the love of my life. Joan, come here. The love of my life. Without this woman, I am nothing.

Nathanial: It’s truly an astounding achievement, Joe.
Joe: It’s not about the prize, Nathaniel. It’s about getting up the gumption to write the next book.
Nathanial: Absolutely. Well, that is why you are who you are. May I also say congratulations to you as well, Joan. I don’t think people give the spouse enough credit.
Joe: I give my wife credit. I give her plenty of credit.

Joe [after Nathanial leaves]: What a schmuck.
Joan: You were rude.
Joe: You gotta be rude, otherwise the guy won’t give up. Jesus Christ.
Joan: You don’t want to make an enemy of somebody like that. I mean, there’s nothing more dangerous than a writer whose feelings have been hurt.
Joe: Fuck him if he can’t take a perfectly-justified rejection.
Joan: I was just making an observation.

Joe: Are you pissed because we haven’t discussed your story? Is that what’s bugging you?
David: I don’t need to discuss something that you have been avoiding like some steaming pile of shit that I deposited on the desk.
Joe: Hey, hey, hey, hey. I have read your story, okay? And my opinion is it’s a solid start. But that’s not what you wanna hear, is it? No, you wanna hear it’s a breathtaking work of genius.

Joan: Joe, please don’t thank me in your speech.
Joe: What?
Joan: I don’t want to be thought of as the long-suffering wife. You understand that, don’t you?
Joe: No. I have to thank you. Everyone thanks their wife. If I don’t, I’ll come off like some narcissistic bastard.
Joan: Well, you are.

Joe: And, David, will you do me a favor? Next time I introduce you, try a little eye contact.
David: Sure. And next time, don’t refer to me as your son, the half-baked writer.
Joe: What are you talking about?
David: “He’s developing his voice”? What is that supposed to mean?
Joe: It’s a fact. You are developing your voice. And it takes a little time, just as it took me time to develop mine.
David: No, it didn’t. You had a hit novel right out of the gate.
Joe: I grew up hard, my friend. You live a little, let’s see what you come up with.

Joan [in a flashback as a young woman]: Your prose is brilliant. It’s clean and vivid and bold.
Elaine: Thank you, but you know what? The public can’t stomach bold prose from a woman. You’re talented, I hear.
Joan: Oh. Thank you. Yeah, I love to write. It’s my life.
Elaine: Don’t do it.
Joan [startled]: Excuse me?
Elaine: You wanna know where your books will end up? Right there. On the alumni shelf. Go ahead, open it up. You hear that? That’s the sound of a book that’s never been opened. Don’t ever think that you can get their attention.
Joan: Whose?
Elaine: The men. Who write the reviews. Who run the publishing houses. Who edit the magazines. The ones who decide who gets to be taken seriously, who gets to be put up on a pedestal for the rest of their lives.
Joan: A writer has to write.
Elaine: A writer has to be read, honey.

Nathanial: You may as well know that I am aware of Joe’s various…indiscretions.
Joan: Well, I’m sure you are. I can imagine it’s very juicy material for a biographer.
Nathanial: You would think so, but, to be honest, it’s a tad predictable. Most of your men of genius tend to have overactive libidos, and thanks to worshipful tomes put out by us biographers, we’re all supposed to find it charming and forgivable. I don’t, actually. I find that behavior rather appalling.
Joan: Well, please don’t paint me as a victim. I am much more interesting than that.
Nathanial [after a pause]: I know you are.

Nathanial: What does the Nobel Prize mean to Joseph Castleman? That’s not mine. It’s not mine.
Joan: It’s from the publisher. Oh.
Nathanial: Why don’t I just use what he said to me on the plane? “It’s not about the prize. It’s about getting up the gumption to write the next book.”
Joan: Perfect.
Nathanial: Thank you. And what about you? How do you get up the gumption?
Joan: To get up in the morning?
Nathanial: To write.
Joan: I’m not a writer.
Nathanial: I beg to differ. When I was going through the Smith archives, I came across some of your stories that were published in the college journal. I read The Faculty Wife. Beautifully written piece.
Joan: Thank you. I had some potential.
Nathanial: Ever regret giving it up?
Joan: No. I had very low expectations about what I could achieve as a female writer.
Nathanial: There were plenty of successful female writers back then.
Joan: Yes, but I didn’t have the personality for it. I’m quite shy. I don’t like to be looked at.

Nathanial: I have read some of Joe’s earlier work. Couple of short stories I came across, some obscure literary journals, and I hate to say it, Joan, but not very good.
Joan: Well, early work is rarely readable. I mean, you should know that.
Nathanial: Yeah, but these didn’t even have a hint of his mature voice. In fact, your piece, The Faculty Wife, that reads much more like early Castleman than these did.
Joan: That’s understandable. Joe had a very heavy hand as a teacher.
Nathanial: Fair enough. When I spoke to Carol, she said that it was very odd how much better his writing became after he met you. With all respect, I think you are sick and tired of Joe Castleman. I think you’re tired of his affairs, tired of being invisible, tired of channeling your enormous talent into creating the Castleman legend. I would think for the sake of your family, for the happiness of your family, for the happiness of your family, you would wanna do something like this. David seems like a very unhappy young man.
Joan: You have no business talking about my children.
Nathanial: You’re right. I’m sorry. I do think you want to talk to somebody. I give you my word, I will never reveal my source. I will be the bad guy, so you don’t have to feel like you’re betraying Joe. Then the truth will be out there. You would be free to write on your own.
Joan: What a marvelous story, Nathaniel. You really ought to write fiction.

Joan: So, while I was out being a drunken lush, you were seducing the luscious Linnea?
Joe: Nothing happened.
Joan: Don’t you dare insult my intelligence. Don’t you dare.
Joe: Nothing happened. I put a stop to it.
Joan: Oh. Bully for you.
Joe: Yeah, bully for me. And do you know why I put a stop to it? Because I was worried about you on some fucking tour bus, feeling neglected, so I come back here so you wouldn’t be alone. And what happens? I end up waiting for you.
Joan: Oh. Oh, I should have let you know I’d be late so you could finish fucking your photographer!

Joe: You’re a really gifted writer, David. But you know that.
David: Thank you, Dad. I appreciate that.
Joe: I liked your story. Well-constructed.
David: But?
Joe: Well, there’s always a “but” with the first draft. Come on. Do you wanna hear this?
David: Yeah, sure, go on.
Joe: Okay. Well, I don’t completely buy what you did with the couple. The blowhard husband, the stoic wife with the repressed rage. We’ve seen it before. It’s a cliche. I think you can do better.

Joan: Joe, just because I don’t love your novel doesn’t mean I don’t love you.
Joe: How could you love me if you think I’m a hack? Look, how can I be with someone who doesn’t respect me?
Joan: I do. I do respect you. I respect you in all kinds of ways. All kinds of ways.
Joe: Well, fuck that. Tell me you believe in me as a writer.
Joan: It’s only your first draft, Joe.
Joe: Screw this, Joanie. It’s over. This relationship’s doomed. What am I supposed to do when I’m back in…Go back and teach English at some second-rate college? Since I obviously blew it with the Ivy Leagues by screwing one of my students.
Joan: I’m not just one of your students, Joe.
Joe: No, you’re the girl with the golden touch. You’ll go on to be a literary sensation while I stay at home grading papers and cooking the pot roast.

Joan: David, what’s going on?
David: I don’t know, Mom. I’m trying to figure out if I’ve been worshiping at the wrong parental shrine.

Joe: We’re late. We’re supposed to be in the limo. And already, he’s spoiling my night with his fucking bullshit.
David: Is it?
Joe: Is it what?
David: Your night. Because according to your biographer, this could all be some brilliant fraud.

Joan: What did Nathanial say to you?
David: He said that I shouldn’t measure myself against my venerable father’s success because there is, in fact, a theory that you, my mother, are the real genius of the family.
Joan: That’s ridiculous.
David: Why would he make such a twisted thing up?
Joe: David, he’s out to get me because I won’t authorize his hack job on my life.

Nathanial: He said that you confessed.
David: Confessed what?
Nathanial: He said that you ghostwrite Dad’s books.
Joan: I never said that.
David: Do you?
Joan: No, David, I do not.
David: I don’t believe you.

David: Dad, why were you always closing the door on me, huh? With her inside, when I was young? What the fuck was she doing in there?
Joe: What are you talking about?
David: The fucking door to your office! It was always being slammed in my face with her inside.
Joe: No, your mother was proofreading.
David: Proofreading? I don’t fucking believe you! You asked Mom, “Who the hell is Sylvia Fry?” You don’t even know who your own fucking characters are!

Announcer at the Awards ceremony: You have given us a vast, restless and brilliant body of work. With each book, Mr. Castleman, you have challenged the novelistic form and reinvented the very nature of storytelling and of prose. You are a master of style, yet your characters are intensely real, their journeys heartbreaking, their portrayals intimate and deep. Dear Mr. Castleman, the humanity in your writing transcends the boundaries of class and gender. You are a master of words, but, more importantly, you are a master at portraying the human condition in all its complexities. Mr. Castleman, I would like to convey to you the warm congratulations of the Swedish Academy as I now request you to receive the Nobel Prize in Literature from His Majesty, the King.[/b]

The camera however is focused more on the reaction of Joan.

[b]Joe [to the audience at the awards ceremony]: I’m deeply grateful for the honor you have given me. But really this honor should go…Really this honor should go to someone else. My wife, Joan. Joan truly is my better half. She’s made it possible for me to find the stillness, as well as the noise, to create my body of work. Without her, I certainly wouldn’t be standing up here tonight. I’d be at home, staring at a blank piece of paper, my mouth open in stupefaction. My wife is my sanity, my conscience, and the inspiration for every decent impulse I have ever had. Joan, you are my muse, my love, my soul. And I share this honor with you.

Joan: I’m leaving you.
Joe: What are you talking about?
Joan: I can’t do this anymore.
Joe: Don’t be crazy. You’re not leaving me.
Joan: Don’t act surprised or heartbroken or shocked, none of which you could possibly be.
Joe: Look, I know you didn’t want me to acknowledge you in my speech, but do you think everything I said up there was for show? I meant every word of it. God, give me some credit.
Joan: What for?
Joe: For loving you.
Joan: Oh, God, Joe. What?
Joe [giving her the Nobel Prize medal]: Here. Here, take it.
Joan: I don’t want it.
Joe: It belongs to you.
Joan: I don’t want it. It’s yours. It’s all yours. It has your fucking name on it.
Joe: Fucking take it. I don’t want it. I don’t want it. I don’t want the fucking thing![/b]

He throws the medal out the car window.

[b]Joe [back at the hotel]: Listen, Joanie…Listen, there is nothing horrible or shameful or immoral about what we do. We’re writing partners. We’ve created a beautiful body of work together.
Joan: You edit, Joe. That’s all you do. I’m the one who sits at that desk eight hours a day.
Joe: Is that the way you see it? Really? All these years you’ve been sitting in some giant stew of resentment? And what about all the years I’ve been rubbing your back, bringing you tea, cooking you dinner, watching the kids, so you could work without distraction? You don’t think there were times when it killed me that you were the one with the golden touch? Hmm? You think I wake up every morning feeling even remotely proud of myself? But have I ever said I’m done with this marriage, I’m walking away?
Joan: No, you had affairs.
Joe: Oh, God. And I’ve regretted every fucking one of them.
Joan: Oh, yeah, right, you’d sob in my lap, and you’d beg me to forgive you, and I always would because, you know, somehow you convinced me that my talent made you do it. And then when I was too angry or too furious or too hurt to write, you would give me one of your famous back rubs, and you’d say, “Use it, Joanie. Use it.”
Joe: I never said that.
Joan: Oh, yes, you did.
Joe: I never said that!
Joan: Yes, you did. Lucky for me I had somewhere to put it. I mean, critics loved the image of Sylvia Fry, you know, scrubbing the tear stains out of her dress. They just loved that, another Castleman masterpiece. Your chest just swelled when you read me those reviews. It actually swelled. And rather than being outraged and rather than thinking about what this all was doing to our kids, I would watch you and I’d say, “Oh, my God, how can I capture that behavior? How can I put all that in words?” And you know what? I did, right here. Right here. Yeah, another Castleman masterpiece. Oh, and, uh, let’s see. This one I wrote after you screwed, who was it…yeah, our third nanny. God.
Joe: This book had nothing at all to do with the fucking nanny.
Joan: Oh, yes, it did. It’s on every single page.
Joe: These are my stories, my culture, my family, my ideas.
Joan: My words, my pain, my spending hours alone in that room turning your appalling behavior into literary gold!
Joe: What compelling ideas did you ever fucking have? You were nothing but a privileged, prissy little co-ed. The only decent story you ever wrote alone was about Carol. You stole from my life even then.
Joan: Shame on you, Joe.
Joe: You loved holing up in the Village with the big, bad Jew. You loved making your parents squirm. You got the literary life and the house by the sea. Hmm? You loved getting the nice clothes and the travel and all the privileges without ever having to marry some schmuck from a brokerage firm. You got it all, my girl.
Joan [packing]: Well, you can have it back. I don’t want it.
Joe: What are you doing?
Joan: I’m going to spend the night in David’s room, and then when I get home, I’m gonna call a lawyer.
Joe: This is ridiculous. Joanie, we got kids. We got a grandchild. We’ve got friends we’ve known for years who are gonna start dying on us one by one. Where you gonna be? You gonna be living alone feeling brave? Is that what you want? Joanie, wait for me. Don’t walk away from me, God damn it!
Joan: Don’t touch me!
Joe: Don’t touch you? Joanie, we gotta talk this through.
Joan: I can’t do it anymore, Joe. I can’t do it. I can’t take it. I can’t take the humiliation of holding your coat and arranging your pills and picking the crumbs out of your beard and being shoved aside with all the other wives to talk about some goddamn shopping trip while you say to all the gathering sycophants that your wife doesn’t write! Your wife, who just won the Nobel Prize!
Joe: So, if I’m such an insensitive and talentless fucking piece of shit, why the fuck did you marry me? Hmm?
Joan: Oh, God, Joe.
Joe: No, I really wanna know. Why did you marry me?
Joan [sobbing]: I don’t know.

Nathanial [after Joe’s death]: I don’t know what to say. I’m stunned. How are you doing?
Joan: We’re still in shock.
Nathanial: Yeah. I think we all are. It’s a lot to process.
Joan: Nathanial.
Nathanial: Yes?
Joan: What we were talking about the other day…
Nathanial: Yes?
Joan: I want to say that what you implied isn’t true, and if you malign Joe’s talent in any way, I’ll take you to court. Good luck, Nathanial. I’m sure you’ll write a fine book.
[Nathanial walks away]
Joan: Did you hear any of that?
David: Yeah.
Joan: When we get home, I’m going to sit you and your sister down, and I’m going to tell you everything.[/b]

Here we go again: the revenge flick.

We go back in time to those who fucked up someone’s life. And then fast forward to that golden opportunity for payback. The part where, as they say, revenge is sweet.

Which means that we can put ourselves in the character’s shoes and imagine the payback that we would inflict on those who [for whatever reason, in whatever manner] fucked up our lives. After all, how else really to explain the ongoing popularity of films of this sort?

Then it all comes down to the actual plot. Do we sympathize with the protagonist? Is the revenge justified? Is it proportional to the affliction? Does it end the way we wanted?

This one in particular is really complicated.

And then in how “dark” it all becomes. In some films of this sort, the need for revenge becomes so overwhelming that the plot devolves into a nihilistic hellhole where almost everyone is crushed one way or another.

Here we know right from the start that Erin Bell isn’t the woman that she once was. Today she is “a worn-down, emotionally shattered shell of the idealistic cop” that she was all those years ago. So back and forth we go. What she once was in the past, what happened back then, what she is now. In other words, the way a life actually does unfold. Things happen and they change us. But those who interact with us today may or may not know any of this. There is simply no way in which they can understand how we see things because they have not lived our life or shared our own experiences.

It will all either click for you or it won’t. In fact, some, no doubt, will actually be rooting for Silas.

And then the part where this all unfolds amidst turbulence embedded in other relationships in Erin’s life. The one with her 16 year old daughter for example. And, as we all know, ancilliary sub-plots of this sort can sometimes make or break a film. Here it really doesn’t make much sense at all. Or none that I could discern.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Destroyer_(2018_film
trailer: youtu.be/bqHaLUoiWZU

IMDb

Nicole Kidman stated that she got the flu during filming, but powered through and tried to use it in her performance. For the final scene in the movie with her character’s daughter, Kidman said she was so sick while filming she could “barely stand.”

Destroyer [2018]
Directed by Karyn Kusama

[b]Detective: You getting your mail here now?
Erin: I don’t get it. What?
Detective: I’m saying, apparently, you live here.

FBI agent: What’s up?
Erin: Silas is back.

FBI agent: What happened was we put you and Chris in there too green. It was a shit deal. You weren’t ready. This thing has been ice cold for a long time. You really wanna go down that hole again for nothing?
Erin: Can you run the bill? It’s a match, yeah?
FBI agent: Yeah.

Erin: How long you got?
Toby: A couple months. Why the fuck are you here?
Erin: Silas is back.

Toby: I can’t give you Silas. But I can give you Arturo.
Erin: Arturo?
Toby: We found ways to stay in touch, just in case. I can get you to him.
Erin: Where is he?
Toby: Oh, it’s not for free.

Chris [after Silas tosses a gun to Arturo for a round of Russian Roulette]: Fuck that, Arturo. You don’t have to do that.
Silas: This really doesn’t concern you, Chris. This is about Arturo. And Arturo has free will. It’s his decision. His. Come on.
[Arturo puts the gun to his head]
Silas: That’s it. Don’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. You know? No judgments. No, no. Look here. Do it…or don’t do it. Do it…or don’t do it.

Arturo: There’s a lawyer…DiFranco. He helps launder the money. Petra still sees him for that every once in a while. Petra’s still with Silas.
Erin: Petra?
Arturo: DiFranco gets you Petra. Petra gets you Silas.

Erin: So this is what you do now…legal advice.
Arturo: Sure.
Erin: So when’s it add up to even, huh?
Arturo: It doesn’t work like that.
Erin: Then when are you done?
Arturo: When do you think?

DiFranco: I think that you are down here on your own. I think you’re playing out some little vendetta, maybe coloring outside the lines a little.
Erin: Where’s the next money drop?
DiFranco: I did some Googling, Detective Bell. I know your whole sad story. The bank. What you failed to prevent. Oof. You know what successful people do, Detective Bell? They get over shit. They move on…

DiFranco: You ever see Super Chicken? Stupid fuckin’ cartoon, old. No? Anyway…Every time they get in a jam, Super Chicken’s sidekick would start to complain, and Super Chicken would say, “You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Fred!” You chose to play cops and robbers, and you lost…big.
Erin: Silas is a murderer.
DiFranco: You’re barking up the wrong tree, honey. And the more you insist on doing it, the sadder and stupider you look. You know? Do you think it was your stupidity that got those people killed?

Erin [in a flashback]: What else are you gonna tell me about myself?
Silas: You’re a liar. You’re a user. You wanna be powerful. You wanna be recognized. You wanna be seen. But you can’t do what you want. Why? 'Cause someone’s gonna see you, and you’re gonna get punished for doing what you want. I got good news and bad news. There’s nobody fucking watching.

Petra: Why don’t you just… leave it alone?
Erin: I left it alone. He started it again. People are dead.

Petra [to Erin]: You think you’re fucking better than me? You aren’t shit. Doesn’t matter. You wanted to be one of us. You wanted money, same as all of us. You just didn’t have the balls to take it. You’re no fucking better than me.

Chris: It’s a lot of money. I mean, it’s a lot.
Erin: Yeah, but how much is a lot?
Chris: Seven million. Maybe ten.
Erin: Jesus Christ. That kind of money.
Chris: I know.
Erin: You think they can pull it off?
Chris: Maybe. Doesn’t matter. We got more than enough to arrest. We should call Gil, get him to work on pulling us out.
Erin: What if we don’t?

Ethan [to Erin]: Get the money.

Toby [to Erin]: Why the fuck is he going back in?!!

Toby: Are you fucking cops, Erin? Are you fucking cops? Erin, are you a fucking cop? Just talk to me, Erin. Talk to me. Now tell me, are you a fuckin’ cop? Don’t tell me you’re a fuckin’ cop. Don’t tell me you’re a fuckin’ cop! Don’t fuckin’ do that!!

Erin: It’s my fault that your dad died. It’s my fault that other people died.
Shelby: What?
Erin: I’m not good. I’m the one who’s bad. It’s not you. All right? I’m sorry for lying to you. I lied. I stole. And worse…You can be better than me.
Shelby: What’s going on…?

Erin: Take that.
Antonio [reaches into the car and picks up an envelope]: What’s this?
Erin: You’ll figure it out.

Chris [in a flashback]: It’s a bad idea.
Erin: I’m tired, Chris. I’ve spent my whole fuckin’ life scrapping, jealous, hungry, scared. I just wanna spend one fuckin’ day on the other side of that.
Chris: I know. That’s me, too. But this isn’t the way.
Erin: Please. You gotta give me this. Please? I need this. You want me to say it? I’ll fucking say it. Do it for me. For us. Hmm?
Chris: Do you love me?
Erin: You know I do.
Chris: Because if we do this…you gotta promise me you’re not going anywhere. It’s you and me, you understand? ‘Cause that’s the only reason.
Erin: Fuck, yeah. I’m in.
Chris: Listen to me. Anything goes wrong, anything, someone gets their hair mussed, we pull the pin. We identify. Shut it down, okay? And we accept the consequences. Nobody gets a fuckin’ scratch.

Erin: Nice ass.
Chris: It’s all yours.[/b]

Remember this scene?

Darien Taylor: When you’ve had money and lost it, it can be much worse than never having had it at all!
Bud Fox: That is bullshit!

Well, it often works the same way with fame. Most of us will go through life never having accumulated much of it. But imagine being on top and then watching it all collapse out from under you?

What would you be willing to do to bring it all back?

Here’s one account of that. A more or less true story based on the trajectory of this woman: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lee_Israel

She once wrote biographies of celebrities. Until one of them did not appreciate the way in which she was depicted in the book. The consequences being dire.

Then the “comeback”. Often, however, the “comeback” here revolves around behaviors that either skirt the law or trash it. After all, when the real world comes crashing down on you and you are facing eviction from your home, the law may well become a luxury you can no longer afford. Especially if thumping it affords you the possibility of being back on top. If mostly in your head.

Then the part that is always fascinating. The gifted con artist. The hoax. The folks taken in by it.

But here’s the thing…you have to be really, really gifted to pull it off. You not only have to be a very talented writer yourself when making this stuff up, you have to be ingenious enough to fool a lot of sophisticated people that you are writing it as someone else. Someone who was once famous and left plenty of clues as to what might be a fraud.

But here’s the other thing. Lee Israel forges these letters. Collectors buy them. And they are ecstatic because they think it is the real deal. It’s a win-win situation until they discover that it’s a fraud. But what if they don’t?

Look for this part: “…as fate would have it…”.

Few of us [famous or not] are willing to acknowledge just how much luck – being in the right place at the right time with the right frame of mind – plays in our successes. We only have so much control over the avalanche of variables that come to conspire with us or against us in life.

trivia at IMDb: imdb.com/title/tt4595882/tr … tt_trv_trv
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Can_You_E … give_Me%3F
trailer: youtu.be/UvJIaNsf_bY

Can You Ever Forgive Me? [2018]
Directed by Marielle Heller

[b]Lee: This week, will you return my call?
Marjorie: Sure. We’ll see.
Lee: I’m working on a lot of fascinating projects. I just need my agent to call me back.
Marjorie : I don’t think the world is waiting for another Fanny Brice biography, Lee. And we may disagree on what is considered fascinating.

Bookstore owner: Okay. Just these.
Lee: Come on, man. I schlepped these all the way here.
Bookstore owner: I’ll give you two dollars. I don’t want the others.
Lee: I don’t even need that much. I just don’t want to carry them around anymore. I got a sick cat, and I…
Bookstore owner: I told you I don’t want the others. There’s people waiting.
Lee: You know, you don’t have to be so disrespectful. Okay? You have actually carried my books here.
Bookstore owner: And you are?
Lee: I’m Lee Israel.
Bookstore owner [pointing to a bin of discounted books]: Oh, Miss Israel. We have copies of your latest work right over there.
Lee: You’re a rude little ape.
Bookstore owner: Okay, get your garbage off my counter.[/b]

Next up: the landlord.

[b]Andrei: Miss Israel?
Lee: Hi, Andrei.
Andrei: It’s been three months.
Lee: I know. I’m sorry. I’m working on it.
Andrei: I don’t want to call the management.
Lee: Can you just cut me a little slack? I’m going through a rough patch, and I just lost my job. I think it was ageism.
Andrei: You’ve been here longer than I have, and you’ve been kind to my mother. Just get it to me soon.
Lee: I will. Absolutely. Thank you.

Jack: How’s old life been treating you?
Lee: I can honestly boast that I’m banned from Crosby Street Booksellers.

Anna [reading a framed note from Katherine Hepburn that Lee in desperation is forced to sell]: “Lee, today was to have been the Esquire shoot with Spenc. Difficult days, these. Thank you for your sympathy and understanding. Ever yours, Kate. P.S. Forgive the splotches. All tears lately.” What a lovely apology. This is very special. Why would you part with it?
Lee: Clutter. You know, I’m not a very sentimental gal.
Anna: Handwritten even. You’re the Lee Israel?
Lee: Jesus, is there another one?
Anna: I’ve read your biographies. You’re a wonderful writer.
Lee: Thank you. You might want to remind my publisher.
Anna: Well, her letters usually have the intimacy of a phone book, but this one is really nice. How does $175 sound?
Lee: Sounds terrific.

Jack: Aren’t you writing a new book?
Lee: About Fanny Brice.
Jack: Who?
Lee: Fanny Brice. Just the greatest vaudeville comedian of her time. You sure you’re a fag?
Jack: Mm-hmm.

Anna: Did you hear Tom Clancy is getting paid three million dollars to write more right-wing macho bullshit?
Lee: Are you kidding me? That blowhard’s getting three million dollars? Oh, to be a white male that doesn’t even know he’s full of crap, right?

Lee: I need you to get me a book advance on my Fanny Brice book. I need you to get ten thousand dollars. I’m months behind in my rent, and my cat is sick. And isn’t this the exact reason that I have an agent?
Marjorie: I can’t get you an advance like that, Lee. I just can’t.
Lee: Give me one reason why that cocky shit gets three million dollars… and you can’t get me ten thousand?
Marjorie: I’ll give you three reasons. Number one, Tom Clancy is famous.
Lee [scoffing]: Here we go!
Marjorie: Yes, you have written a couple of successful biographies and you’ve managed to disappear behind your subject matter, but because of that, nobody knows who you are!
Lee: Because I’m doing my job.
Marjorie: Number two, Tom Clancy does every radio show. He does Larry King. He goes to every book signing. He plays the game. Meanwhile, you have destroyed every bridge I have built for you. Number three. Nobody wants a book about Fanny Brice. There is nothing new or sexy about Fanny Brice. I couldn’t get you a $10 advance for a book about Fanny Brice.
Lee: I had a book on the New York Times bestseller list. That has to count for something.
Marjorie: Lee, I have known you a long time, and believe me, it hurts to say this to you.
Lee: Tell me what to do then, Marjorie. I have to do something. I’ll take anything. Magazine pieces, cracker box copy.
Marjorie: Okay. Okay. You have two options. You either become a nicer person, you put on a clean shirt, you stop drinking, you say “please” and “thank you.”…Or you can take the time to go out and make a name for yourself. And then maybe, maybe, I can get you paid for your work again.
Lee: And how is it that I’m supposed to do that, Marjorie? I’m a 51-year-old woman who likes cats better than people. Not exactly hot and sexy, as you like to say.
Marjorie: Write your book in your own voice. Well, you’ve been threatening to do it for 10 years.
Lee: I’d love to, Marjorie. Except that I have bills to pay. And not everybody has an ex-husband who left them a Classic Six on the Park!
Marjorie: You can be an asshole when you’re famous, but as an unknown, you can’t be such a bitch, Lee. Nobody is going to pay for the writer Lee Israel right now. My suggestion to you is you go out there and you find another way to make a living.[/b]

How does becoming a grifter sound? Or, sure, go all out and employ the long con:

[b]Lee: I’m aware that you sell memorabilia and first editions. Is that also for typed, signed letters?
Paul [a collector]: Yes, all of that. What can I do for you?
Lee [handing him a fake letter from Noel Coward]: Wondering if these might be of interest to you?
Paul: These are wonderful. Yes, I’d be very interested. Hard to find letters that have a real…taste of the author’s personality, but these do just that.
Lee: Yes. I thought so, too. He’s a very, very clever man.
Paul: I can give you $200 for them. How does that sound?
Lee: I’m afraid I can probably get double that elsewhere, so…
Paul: Okay. You’re probably right. Name your price.
Lee: $400 seems fair.

Lee: I have figured out a way to pay my bills without shoveling shit. And it is a good feeling.
Jack: Well, chin-chin. You going to tell me how?
Lee: No. You’d be too scandalized.
Jack: Oh, my! You clearly don’t know me very well.
Lee: Some things are just better kept to oneself, even if they are brilliant.
Jack: Come on! Spill the beans!
Lee: Can you keep a secret?
Jack: I have no one to tell. All my friends are dead.
Lee: Quite by accident, I find myself in a rather…criminal position…I’m embellishing… documents, if you will.
Jack: Are you forging checks?
Lee: No. Literary letters by prominent writers.
Jack: Not checks, not money, just letters?
Lee: You’re not understanding the world of elite… collectible, literary artifacts.
Jack: I suppose not. But how thrilling to be forging pieces of paper that go where? Libraries?
Lee: No, I am selling to collectors.

Anna: Wouldn’t it be incredible if, after you passed on…people were selling your letters?
Lee: Why on earth would I want that?
Anna: Well, because. Most of us mortals just disappear. This way, you still kind of exist.
Lee: No. When I die, who cares? I just want somebody to feed my cat.

Anna: I think I’m a little tipsy. Are you?
Lee: It takes a lot more than that.
Anna: Oh, no. Have I embarrassed myself? What did Dorothy say? “Can you ever forgive me?”
[Lee backs away]
Anna: What? Did I say something wrong? [/b]

In other words, it’s one thing to con a total stranger…but how about a friend?

[b]Paul [looking at Lee’s faked letter from Noel Coward]: This is quite something.
Lee: I thought so, too.
Paul: Well, as you know, I think I already have a buyer for it. I’m gonna call him as soon as you leave. I sent the Marlene Dietrich to Los Angeles. I got a request from a collector out there.
Lee: Wonderful. You guys do that? You sell to other collectors?
Paul: Oh, yeah. There’s a whole world of wheeling and dealing…most of which I don’t partake in. There are a lot of characters in this line of work. Hey, for a while there, we had The Hitler Diaries. Hmm. Remember that?
Lee: Criminal.
Paul: Yeah. Not everyone gets into this because they respect talent and history… if you know what I mean.
Lee [softly]: Yep.

Jack: You mean, why don’t I have some brilliant talent for copying like you do?
Lee: Is that what you think I’m doing? You think I’m copying? I’ll have you know, I’m a better Dorothy Parker than Dorothy Parker.

Paul [in a phone voice recording]: This is Paul from Armada Books. Ms. Israel, I was wondering if you could come in tomorrow? I have a couple of questions regarding the last Coward letter I purchased. Please come in or call as soon as you can.
Jack: Uh-oh.
Paul: It’s important.[/b]

Cue the long sleepless night.

[b]Paul: Hi, Lee.
Lee: What seems to be the problem?
Paul: You know I’ve got that client who knew Nol Coward. And he said that…Mr. Coward would never have been as explicit as he was regarding his orientation. It was illegal in those days, and…Anyway, apparently, the letter is a fake.
Lee: I’m shocked. I mean, my uncle would be appalled.
Paul: You mean, your cousin?
Lee: Yes. My cousin has always been very avuncular toward me.
Paul: I also got a call from Los Angeles, Lee. It seems one of your letters was quite the controversy at a convention out there. I hate to say it, but your name’s been put on a list.
Lee: On a list?
Paul: People are on alert. That’s all. They won’t buy from you anymore.

Lee: Alan? You got my messages.
Alan: Thanks for coming.
Lee: Yeah. I brought some wonderful Faulkners that I unearthed.
Alan: Not why I called. Listen, the FBI has been in here to see me.
Lee: The FBI?
Alan: They asked me to wear a wire. I’m not gonna do that to you. I’m a good guy. And if they want me to be a witness… I’ll lie. But you’re gonna pay me $5,000.
Lee: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Alan: Well, come on, I’m not gonna rat you out or anything.
Lee: That’s very generous of you. I don’t have $5,000.
Alan: You’re a clever woman. Figure it out.

Jack: I’m really good at this. You should see me at it.
Lee: How much did you get?
Jack: First place gave me $600. The other guy gave me $1,000. You just got closer to paying back that asshole with his own money. He gave me $1,000!
Lee: Was he suspicious?
Jack: Oh, hell, no. I always did want to be an actor. Here.
Lee [counting the mney]: How much did you say he gave you? What? You’re stealing from me?!

Lee: You’re stealing from me…and you don’t even know what it is you’re selling.
Jack [giving her more money]: Okay. I made a mistake. Okay? Here. Here. Here.
Lee: Okay, they’re literary treasures. One of a kind, carefully written witticisms, okay? They’re not just a piece of paper. It’s a portal into a better time and a better place where people still actually honored the written word.
Jack: Okay! I get it.
Lee: Yeah, do you get it? You better learn how to respect what it is you’re selling, because it’s my writing!
Jack: Well…
Lee: What?
Jack: I mean…you’re impersonating other people, I mean, very well, I’m sure, but come on. Nobody is buying Lee Israel letters.
Lee: You steal from me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.

Jack: Maybe you could steal more real letters like you did at first, and I’ll sell them.
Lee: Finding those letters was a complete fluke.
Jack: Well, where did the real ones go? Who has those?
Lee: Archives and museums. And you have to have proof that you’re doing research. They don’t just let anybody walk in.
Jack: You can get into archives. You’re a famous writer. You can steal the letters, copy them… replace them with your copies, sell the originals.

Lee [after giving Jack the letters she stole]: We will continue to work together because I have no other option. But we are not friends, and I don’t think we actually ever were.
Jack: Lee. Lee.
Lee: We will meet in public, and you will not fuck this up like you fuck everything else up in your life. You will sell those papers, you will get the money, you will bring me a receipt.
Jack [standing abruptly to leave]: I’ll be back after the sale.

FBI agent: Lee Israel? I’m Agent Solanas. This is Agent Doyle. We’re here to deliver a subpoena to appear before a federal grand jury. Your appearance is scheduled for two weeks from today. We’ve intercepted your employee, Jack Hock. He’s cooperating, as are the dealers you’ve done business with. Mr. Hock requests that you do not try to reach him or telephone or harass him in any way. You are forbidden to destroy any evidence pertinent to this case.[/b]

She destroys damn near everything.

[b]Lloyd [her lawyer]: Looking at this stuff, it is pretty bad. We’re probably looking at some time behind bars. That said, these letters are pretty incredible. I especially enjoyed the Louise Brooks.
Lee: Thank you.
Lloyd: Look, if you want me to represent you… there are a few things you’re going to have to do before appearing in court.
Lee: Like what?
Lloyd: Clean up your act. First, you’re getting a job. Any kind of job. Second, you’re enrolling in community service to show just how penitent you are.
Lee: What? What kind of service?
Lloyd: Something with children.
Lee: Ah, Jesus. No.
Lee: Animals, then. Sick people, whatever. You have to show that you’ve turned over a new leaf. And you’ve got to go to AA.

Lee [thinking of Anna]: Can I ask you a question? Everyone I sold to…do you think they all know?
Lloyd: Yeah. They all probably know.

Judge: Have you anything additionally you’d like to say to the court before I offer your sentence?
Lee: [reading something she had wrtten before]: “I have been living in a state of enormous guilt and anxiety for many months. Not so much because I felt like what I was doing was wrong but because I was just always afraid of being found out. I can’t specifically say that I regret any of my actions. I mean, in many ways, this has been the best time of my life. I mean, it’s the only time… recently, that I can remember being proud of my work. But it wasn’t really my work, was it? I mean…if I had put in my work…then I would’ve been opening myself up to criticism. And I’m too much of a coward to do that. Then I lost my cat. She was probably the only soul that truly loved me. Maybe ever. And I lost my friend…who may have been an idiot, but he…he tolerated me. And he was nice to have around. And I think I have realized that I am…not a real writer. And that…I think, in the end, it…I would say, was not worth it. I would say that. Uh…I will accept the judgment of the court as valid and fulfill whatever sentence I may receive with full understanding that I have earned said punishment.”

Judge: Lee Israel, the court sentences you to five years’ probation plus six months’ house arrest. You may only leave home to go to and from your place of employment, your work in the community, and to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. You are not to leave the state or consort with felons, and you are to pay restitution to your victims within your means.

Lee: I have a friend’s birthday coming up. You know, he would love to own that Dorothy Parker in the window.
Dealer: Ah. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?
Lee: Can I ask you how much a letter like that runs?
Dealer: We’re asking 1,900, framed and matted, and it comes with a letter of authenticity.
Lee: Does the letter of authenticity come with a letter of authenticity?
Dealer: No. I can assure you it’s the real thing. No one can write like Miss Parker could. Not before and not since.

Lee [in a letter to the dealer having recognized the Parker letter as her own]: “My dear sir, I offer my droopy salutations from the great beyond. I understand that you are selling my personal letters to the tune of nearly two grand. To think poor Lee Israel received a tiny fraction of that sum when she sold them to someone, who then sold them to you. I dearly hope that this letter will not affect the selling price of your valuable artifact. As I most famously muttered mere moments after my cremation, ‘Darling, excuse my dust.’ Yours, Dorothy Parker.”[/b]

Maze.

Maze as in the name of the prison.
Maze as in the labyrinthian plot to escape from it.
Maze as in the convoluted politics embedded in “The Troubles”.
Maze as in the conflicting reactions to the film itself.

So, which side am I on? Or, more to the point, which side am “I” on?

Others of course will have no problem at all in picking the right side to be on here. And once the end is embraced as their own particular “kingdom”, the means employed to attain it are…limitless?

What makes the escape here notable is that the participants did not see themselves as criminals…but as political prisoners. Their cause was just and being imprisoned was only another component of the war they are waging against the powers that be. Either good or evil prevails in that frame of mind.

They were, in other words, objectivists. But their grievances were often very, very real. It’s not like like we are watching intellectuals debating the morality of an action as a philosophical exercise. Real people suffered real pain and hardship. Real people sometimes died. So, “what is to be done?” is explored on a whole other level than in the exchanges we have here.

On the other hand, the film doesn’t really delve deeply into the “backstory”. The politics of “The Troubles” back then is something that you either are or are not familiar with.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maze_(2017_film
trailer: youtu.be/d0kD5USyvRM

Maze [2017]
Written and directed by Stephen Burke

[b]Reporter: Inside these blocks, three hundred and fifty convicted terrorists are demanding political rather than criminal status. They back this demand by what’s called “The Dirty Protest.” The men are not wearing clothes. They call them the “blanket men”, all they wear are blankets. The IRA is trying to force the British government to grant the prisoners five demands using the weapon of last resort, the hunger strike.
Maraget Thatcher: There is no such thing as political murder, political bombing or political violence. There is only criminal murder, criminal bombing and criminal violence.
Reporter: Attitudes have hardened on both sides after the deaths of ten hunger-strikers. The decision to end the hunger strike was taken last night. After visits from Republican leaders who told them there was no point in going on.

Title card: Republicans leaving the blanket protest are moved to wings with Loyalists prisoners. Both groups are enemies, on opposite sides of the Northern Island conflict.

Eileen: Sorry about your friends on the hunger strike. It must have been bad in here.
Larry: Sometimes… Sometimes I feel like a cheat, being alive when they’re not. You know what I mean?

Larry: Since the hunger strike ended, everybody thinks we’re finished. The bigger problem is that we do too. I mean, take a look at the men. We need to prove, not just to the world, but ourselves too, that we’ve still got a pulse.
Oscar: What’s on your mind? You don’t mean an escape, surely? From here? You’re joking, right? We don’t even know where we are. I’ve been in here four years and I couldn’t tell you what’s on the other side of that wall.
Larry: Well it’s time we found out, eh?
Oscar: Is it worth the risk? If they catch you making plans, it’ll be a few more years on your time.
Larry: Why don’t you ask the ten dead hunger strikers if it’s worth it. I owe it to them to at least try.
Oscar: You can do what you want for now. But believe me, you’re wasting your time.

Joe: Are you just going to let him sell us out like that? You’re his O.C., do something!
Oscar: If he wants to keep himself busy, I’m not gonna stop him.
Joe: But he’s working for them! Our friends died so we wouldn’t have to do shit like that. We are political prisoners.

Oscar [to Larry]: You do realise if you escape, you won’t be able to go home. Ever. They’ll hunt you in every bush and ditch in the country.

Bobby: Well, what do you need?
Larry: Detail. Lots of it. Eyes and ears. Anyone moving around, getting an x-ray, peeling spuds, whatever, they need to remember what they see.
Bobby: We’ll get on it. What else?
Larry: I need to find what they missed, there has to be a flaw.
Oscar: Why? Because you want one?

Oscar: There was a hit on your warder last night. He’s alive.
Larry: Jesus. Who the hell called that?
Oscar: It was an outside op. His wife and kid were there.
Larry: Well that’s just great! How am I supposed to get him to trust me if we’re trying to blow his brains out.

Jill [wife]: I told you this would happen, didn’t I? I told you to quit.
Gordon: We can’t let the bastards intimidate us, that’s exactly what they want.
Jill: Intimidate? Jesus, Gordon, we’re lucky to be alive. Don’t even think about going back there, do you hear me?
Gordon: I am… I have to.
Jill: No, you don’t!

Gordon [to the Republican prisoners]: Which one of you fuckers sent my name out? Come on, who was it? Anyone man enough to admit it? No? I didn’t think so. Too chicken shit the lot of you.
Loyalist prisoner: You want us to sort them out for you, Gordon? Just say the word.
Gordon: I don’t want anything from you.

Larry [to Gordon]: What happened to you on the outside won’t happen again.

Gordon [after following Larry into his cell and punching him in the face]:Why did you say that? You know something, you were in on it?
Larry: No! You asked if it was one of us in here. It wasn’t.
Gordon: Who then? Give me names!
Larry: I don’t know who but it’s finished. Warders won’t be a target any more, now the protest’s over.

Larry: Why are you back here anyway, Gordon? Anyone with any sense would have quit.
Gordon: Because I don’t scare so easy.
Larry: Or maybe you’re a prisoner like the rest of us.
Gordon: I am not like you. I get to go home every night.

Jill [on the phone]: The most important thing is that Janet is safe.
Gordon: She’d be safe with me here too. You both would! That thing that happened, it was just a once off.
Jill: How can you say that, Gordon? You don’t know.
Gordon: I do. One of them told me.
Jill: One of the prisoners told you? Is this a joke? Because it isn’t funny.

Gordon: What did you hope to achieve by bumping me off anyway? Stupid bastards. My brother I can understand. He was one tough nut. At least he died for something…Doing his duty, not like those ten friends of yours. Suicide by starvation, spare me. And for what? So they wouldn’t have to do prison work? You’re doing it, aren’t you? Big deal! Worth dying for, was it? Eh, was it?
Larry [visibly constraining humself with the escape on the line]: No, you’re right. They were fools.[/b]

Then later in the cell to Oscar…

[b]Larry: We’re doing this. I don’t know how yet, but it’s happening.

Bobby [with a photo of the prison]: You know, maybe we’re wasting our time looking for the weakest point. What if there isn’t any? Look, here’s a block. They’re all the same, us prisoners in each of the four wings, but in the middle, pulling the strings, are the warders in the circle. That there is the strongest point.
Oscar: And this is good because?
Larry: Because…Whoever controls the circle, controls the whole block.
Oscar: You mean take it? How?
Larry: It wouldn’t be easy, but the warders are starting to ease up a wee bit, if we can build on that…make them feel secure…maybe that’s the flaw.

Oscar: You’re forgetting one tiny detail. If we try and take the warders on the wings, the Loyalists will join them against us…
Bobby: And then the party’s over. He’s right. Damn it!

Larry: I was your husband’s cellmate when he went on the strike. Then when he got weaker and they were moving him up to the hospital, he asked if I’d give you a message.
Young woman [visiting him at prison]: Yeah? What was that? “Keep up the struggle, love. Don’t give in. I’m starving myself to death for Ireland.”
Larry: He asked me to tell you that…Long before you two met, he saw you. You were working at a fair, behind a stall. He said you didn’t notice him and he was too chicken to go and talk to you. So he just watched you for a while…He said you were joking and smiling and that he fell in love with you there and then…From that one look. That’s it. That’s all he wanted me to tell you.
Woman: He can still make me cry even from the grave. He always was a romantic eejit.
Larry: I’m sorry. He was a good friend of mine.
Woman: If you were really his friend you should have stopped him.
Larry: He won’t be forgotten. I’m gonna do something for him. For all ten of them.
Woman: You can’t bring him back though, can you? You can never do that.

Larry [to Oscar on confronting the Loyalists]: We need to use this…

Gordon: Who runs this place, you or them? First we let them have civilian clothes, and now we’re handing them their own private wings on a plate. Have we done some deal that I don’t know about?
Prison chief: We’ve just relaxed a few policies, for a calmer atmosphere, that’s all.
Gordon: Eighteen prison officers were murdered enforcing those policies. I was almost one of them.
Chief: I’m sorry about what happened to you, Gordon but we all want an easier life, the prisoners too. When the hunger strikes were on, coming in here was like walking through the gates of hell. Now when I go home, I can have an actual conversation with my wife.

Gordon: You might not understand this, but I spent half my life trying to protect my family from you bastards. And after all that she ups and leaves.
Larry: Well I’d be home with my own family if it wasn’t for you bastards.

Oscar: They knocked it back.
Larry: I told you it wasn’t ready, didn’t I, but no, you had to go and send the damn thing out.
Oscar: You don’t get to make these decisions, Larry. They didn’t buy into it and they don’t want a botched escape hurting morale on the outside.
Larry: Fuck their morale! What about ours? We’re on the floor in here.
Oscar: Look, we don’t have to stop, but trying to take a whole block, it’s too risky. We need to set our sights lower. I’ve a couple of guys I want you to meet later.
Larry: That’s your new strategy? Think small? It has to be big. That’s the whole bloody point!

Oscar: How many?
Larry: Packed in like sardines. Thirty-eight.
Oscar: Jesus. That big enough for you?
Larry: No, actually, but it’ll do. Brendan and Bobby, we’re gonna take your block, H7. Then we’re all gonna get in the food lorry and drive out the gate.

Larry [to Oscar]: The escape needs to be injury free, no blood spilled, otherwise they’ll write about that and not what we did.

Larry [voiceover]: They’d never expect men on all four wings to work together at the same time. Imagine a ripple in water moving out from the centre each warder taken, one after the other, like dominoes falling. One shot. That’s all we’ve got.

Larry: Enjoy the weekend, Gordon.
Gordon: Oh, I intend to.
Larry: Must be a mad scramble to get out of here on a Friday.
Gordon: A stampede, more like. You’d swear the pubs closed at eight.
Larry: I suppose the main gate would be the worst, right?
Gordon: No…Well having to sign out at admin every time is a pain. They open the gate, but then it doesn’t take long. They give you a pass on the way in and you just hand it back on the way out.
Larry: Oh, something high-tech I bet?
Gordon: You’d laugh if I told you.

Larry [to new O.C.]:I had a promise to keep. Two more years and I can go home to my family. They didn’t need me, anyway. The plan was tight, best I’ve ever seen.

Gordon: What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with them?
Larry: I’d have given anything to be…almost…I was on the run once, did you know that? Managed to break out of a courthouse cell. Saw my family three times that year. It’s like you said, they deserve better.
Gordon: You’re one clever bastard. I suppose you think you’ve won something today. Scored a few points for your side. Well nothing’s changed you know. You, me, all those guys out there legging it across the fields, we’re all still stuck in the same place, going nowhere.

Gordon [to Larry]: He was a good man, the warder your friends killed. Oh. You didn’t know? See, that’s what happens when you unleash the monster…people get hurt.

Gordon: Why me? Out of all the warders you picked me, didn’t you?
Larry: Ten of my friends died in this prison on hunger strike. They thought they’d broken us but now the world knows they haven’t. A debt’s been repaid to those men. I don’t expect you to understand that, Gordon.
Gordon: Prisoner Marley, in future you will address me only as Warder or Sir. Is that clear?!

Gordon: You know, I used to think my job was important, that I was doing some vital role for society…I warned them that they were making too many concessions but nobody cared. The warders didn’t make the policies in this prison, we just did our duty to the best of our abilities. Most of us.
Prison inspector: But you were deceived by the prisoners. You let your guard down.
Gordon: You can twist it any way you like. It was supposed to be the most secure prison in Europe. It wasn’t supposed to have a flaw.
Inspector: Which flaw are you referring to?
Gordon: The circle, all the power in one place.
Inspector: But it was prison staff who let them into the circle. Lifers, men with murder convictions.
Gordon: They seemed worn out.
Inspector: But it was a trick. You all allowed yourselves to be tricked.
Gordon: We did. I did. You can have my resignation too.
Inspector: That won’t be necessary.
Gordon: I don’t need your permission. I’m granting myself parole.

Title card: After his release in 1986, Larry Marley returned to active service with the IRA. The following year he was shot and killed at his home by Loyalist paramilitaries.

38 prisonerds were involved in the Maze break-out, of which 19 were recaptured inside two days. Of the remaining 19, 3 were subsequently killed during IRA operations. Most of the rest were eventually caught in the USA, Holland, Scotland and Ireland.

A year after Larry Marley’s death, the first steps of the peace process began, in which ex-prisoners, including some Maze escapees, played a vital role. It was a further 10 years before the Good Friday agreement was signed.[/b]

For whatever particular reason, when I think of Vincent Van Gogh, I think of how most today might actually imagine his plight back then would be seen as all that more deplorable today. In other words, the part that revolves around fortune…and the part that revolves around fame. Today because we are all that much more obsessed with both. If only because there are just so many more of us around to remind us of our own eventual obscurity.

Only his plight is compounded because [back then or not] he possessed an actual extraordinary talent that brought him very litle fortune or fame. So, it is thought, he was cheated by whatever brings all these things about for some more than others.

On the other hand, how many of us here feel that whatever talent we might possess – as philosophers? – will go unrecognized both here and now and there and then?

Then we come to all of the other parts of his life worth pondering more in depth. If only to connect the dots in some capacity to our own.

Still, there is also the part where being a famous painter has little or nothing to do with the enormous satisfaction that can come from the act of painting itself. The act of “creating art” that most of us will only more or less be privy to. So it would clearly seem to be that those among us who are immersed in art will react to this in a very different way. Though the attempt to actually communicate that is often problematic to say the least.

But while he may be extraordinary and apart from all the rest of us as a painter, he is also at one with all the rest of us in one rather important respect: subsisting. Sustaining his life from day to day with bills to pay and obligations that others are always there to impose on him. Or, to put it another way, try to imagine Vincent without Theo. After all, along with so many other things, paint and canvases don’t grow on trees.

And then, as well, there’s the part played by mental illness here. To what extent was he going “mad”? And to what extent does that matter in understanding him? And, then, finally, the part about God and religion.

IMDb

[b]Features the only Best Actor Oscar nominated performance of the year in a film not nominated for Best Picture.

The main poster image is based on one of Vincent van Gogh’s last self portraits, done after he sliced off a piece of his ear.

Since neither Willem Dafoe nor Julian Schnabel spoke fluent French, it was decided that most of the dialogue would be in English. The first scene is in French, to establish the setting and tone. After that, the dialogue only shifts to French when Vincent feels threatened, such as when he is surrounded by the schoolchildren. Vincent van Gogh spoke poor French, and was often mocked for it. Using French dialogue in those scenes heightened Vincent’s feeling of alienation from the people around him.

The film portrays the theory proposed by Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith, authors of the 2011 biography “Van Gogh: The Life”. They argue that Vincent van Gogh did not shoot himself on July 27, 1890. Instead, they believe he was accidentally shot by a friend’s 16-year-old brother.[/b]

trivia at IMDb imdb.com/title/tt6938828/tr … tt_trv_trv
at wiki en.wikipedia.org/wiki/At_Eterni … Gate_(film
trailer youtu.be/T77PDm3e1iE

At Eternity’s Gate [2018]
Written in part and directed by Julian Schnabel

[b]Vincent [voiceover off camera]: I just want to be one of them. I would like to sit down with them and have a drink, and talk about anything. I’d like for them to give me some tobacco, a glass of wine, or even just ask me, “How are you today?” And I would answer, and we would talk. And from time to time, I’d make a sketch of one of them as a gift. They would accept it maybe, and keep it somewhere. And a woman would smile at me and ask, "Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat? “A piece of ham, some cheese, or maybe a fruit?”

Paul Gauguin [to a gathering of artists]: In other words, you want to re-establish a hierardchy! Those who command and those who obey!

Vincent [stopping Paul on the street]: Excuse me!
Paul: I can’t stand them. They pretend to be artists and behave like bureaucrats. Each of them a little tyrant.

Paul: I saw your paintings at the cafeteria.
Vincent: You did? You must’ve been the only one. But if you did, it was worth it.
Paul: There were a couple good ones in there, but it was hard to see. It was a difficult space. And too many works.
Vincent: My idea was a group show. I thought it could be a community of artists, like a family. When the other artists didn’t participate, I had to do it by myself. I filled it with everything I had in my studio.
Paul: Yeah, it looked like it.

Paul: Those people, you don’t want them to be your family. Who needs a family like that? You can’t pick your family, but you can pick your friends.
Vincent: I love my brother.
Paul: Then you’re lucky. But more importantly, he loves you. I know he’s very good to you. I want to get as far away from these people as possible. I’m going to Madagascar…It’s an island. Big one. In between Africa and India. Or even further, some remote island where they’ve never heard about painting, about Paris or schools. Somewhere where I can create a new vision, a new way of painting, far away from all systems and theories. Real freedom…I’d like to be calm and take my time, alone, forget about the rest of the world, and just paint this. Here from my heart. Slowly. What comes to me, nothing else.
Vincent: That sounds good. I hate the fog. I’m tired of this gray light. I’d like to find a new light. For paintings that we haven’t yet seen. Bright paintings, painted in sunlight.
Paul: Go south, Vincent.

Gaby: Have you received the money for this month? You still owe me for last month.
Vincent: When it arrives, I’ll pay you.
Gaby: Your brother, he must be rich.
Vincent: Well, he… He’s not. He’s a merchant. He sells paintings.
Gaby: Your paintings?
Vincent: Not yet.

Gaby: You should wash yourself sometimes. At least once a week.
Vincent: Do I look dirty?
Gaby: You smell terrible. You’re not bad looking. If you just cleaned up a little, you might even be handsome.
Vincent: If I was clean, would you find me attractive?
Gaby: Maybe.
Vincent: Would you stay with me here if I gave you 50 Francs?
Gaby: You don’t have 50 Francs. See you tomorrow, Vincent.

Vincent [voiceover off camera]: When facing a flat landscape, I see nothing but eternity. Am I the only one to see it? Existence can’t be without reason.

Teacher [with students watching Vincent paint dead tree roots outdoors]: The fact is that some painters paint strange things today. There was a time when people knew how to paint. But this time is over. Now anybody can call hiumself an artists. “I can paint…roots!”

Theo: Vincent, why did they put you here?
Vincent: I have no idea, Theo. I swear to you.
Theo: There must be a reason.
Vincent: From time to time, I feel like I’m losing my mind. Yes, my mind goes out of me, I’m telling you. It goes out of me.
Theo: What do you mean?
Vincent: They say that I scream in the streets, that I cry, that I put black paint on my face to scare the children. But I don’t remember anything. Anything except the darkness and anxiety, so they sent me here. With really insane people.

Vincent: I must tell you, don’t tell it to the doctors…Theo, sometimes I have visions.
Theo: Who do you see?
Vincent: It’s hard to say.
Theo: Ghosts?
Vincent: I don’t know. Flowers, sometimes, and also angels, human beings. It’s confusing. Sometimes they talk to me.
Theo: What do they say?
Vincent: I don’t understand them. But it’s frightening. They aren’t always very nice…When I get like this, I don’t know what I’m capable of. Maybe I could kill and throw myself off a cliff.’

Theo [voiceover writing a letter to Paul]: “Dear Paul, I know you’ve been in correspondence with my brother Vincent, and he is very much looking forward to your arrival in Arles, which I know has been postponed due to financial concerns. I am prepared and committed to sending 250 francs each month in exchange for one painting a month of yours, at your discretion. It would benefit Vincent greatly to see you as soon as possible. A warm handshake. Enthusiastically, Theo van Gogh. P.S. Looking forward to your response and to seeing your latest works.”

Paul [to Vincent]: Of all the miseries that afflict humanity, nothing maddens me more than the lack of money.

Paul: Why do you always have to paint from nature?
Vincent: I feel lost if I don’t have something to look at. I need something to see.
Paul: There’s so much to see.
Vincent: Every time I look, I see something I’ve never seen before.
Paul: Yes, but what you paint, what you do belongs to you. You don’t need to copy anything.
Vincent: I don’t copy.
Paul: I know, but why don’t you paint just what’s in your mind? What your brain sees?
Vincent: Because the essence of nature is beauty.

Vincent: When I look at nature, I see more clearly, the tie that unites us all. A vibrating energy, speaking in God’s voice. Sometimes it’s so intense, I lose consciousness.
Paul [scoffing]: Come on.
Vincent: I swear to you. After a while, I wake up and I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing. It takes me some minutes to even remember my name.
Paul: Listen, Vincent, the time is coming when painters won’t need anymore to look at models and sit down in front of nature. You know why? Because nature is what we see here in our heads. Nothing else! Without our eyes, there’s no nature. And none of us sees the world around us the same way. We sit, you and I, in front of the same landscape, we don’t see the same mountains, the same trees.
Vincent: Well, that’s what I’m saying. The trees that I paint are mine.
Paul: Even the faces you paint are yours. And they’ll stay because of you. People will be known because you painted them and how you painted them, not because of who they are. That’s good. And people will go to museums to see paintings of people, not to see people who were painted.
Vincent: You know, people don’t always like the way they look in my paintings.
Paul: We have to start a revolution. Do you understand? Yes, we do. Us, our generation. We have to change entirely the relation between painting and what you call nature. Between painting and reality because painted reality is its own reality. The impressionists, they’re out of it, do you agree? They only paint their babies in their gardens. They’ll never go any further. Seurat confounds painting with science. He’s lost himself in optical experiments. There’s nothing more to expect from Renoir, Degas, Monet…They repeat themselves. They’ve given everything they could give…It’s our turn.

Paul: You have to plan your paintings slowly. What’s the rush? Work calmly, slowly. You’re indoors, you’re not outside in the wind and the noise.
Vincent: Paintings have to be done in one clear gesture.
Paul: Think about the surface that you’re painting on and how the paint will sit on it. You’re changing things so fast, you can’t even see what you’ve done.
Vincent: Paintings have to be painted fast.

Vincent: Painters I look at… Frans Hals, Goya, Velazquez, Veronese, Delacroix. The painters I like all paint fast in one clear gesture, each stroke. You’ve heard of “a stroke of genius”? Well, that’s what it means.
Paul: You don’t even paint that way. You paint fast and you overpaint. Your surface looks like it’s made out of clay. It’s more like sculpture than painting.

Paul: I’m telling you, you have to look inside.
Vincent: You keep saying “look inside.” I get it, I do. You keep repeating yourself. What do you think I’m doing? I don’t invent the picture. I don’t need to invent the picture. I find it already in nature. I just have to free it.
Paul: All right, I’m just saying, first think about your surface and how the paint will sit on it. Get control over what you’re doing. Maybe you should work inside more.
Vincent: I’ve spent all my life alone, in a room. I need to go out and work to forget myself. I want to be out of control. I need to be in a feverish state. It’s called the act of painting for a reason.
Paul: All right, calm down.
Vincent: I don’t want to calm down. The faster I paint, the better I feel.

Vincent [dismayed that Paul is leaving]: What did I do? Where did I go wrong?
Paul: Nothing. You have nothing to do with this decision. Vincent, we can’t live side by side. Our temperaments are incompatible, you must admit that. And you have to understand my reputation is established now. I can’t live in a country town anymore. I have to be around people, for now. Besides, I don’t like it here. You’re surrounded by stupid, wicked, ignorant people.

Vincent [voiceover off camera and then on]: There’s something strange about me. Sometimes I don’t know what I’ve done or what I’ve said. About Gauguin, for instance, what happened right before he left. We had some fights…I…maybe I hurt him. I don’t know how. I do know that I took a razor and I cut off one of my ears, yes. I cut it off, one of my ears. Blood all over the place. No one else did it, I did it. I wanted to give it to Gauguin with my apologies. Why? God knows. And I thought, she would know where Paul was, so I gave my ear to the girl at the bar, to Gaby. She was scared, all the blood…I think she thought I was going to kill her. So, she called the police and they put me here.

Doctor: Try to tell me. I… I’ve never seen anything like this before. But I’d like to help you.
Vincent: There’s something inside me. I don’t know what it is. What I see, nobody else sees and sometimes it frightens me. I think I’m losing my mind. But then I say to myself, "I’ll show what I see “to my human brothers who can’t see it.” It’s a privilege. I can give them hope and consolation.
Doctor: You’re confusing people. You’re confusing yourself with your paintings.
Vincent: I am my paintings.
Doctor: What do you mean by consolation and hope? You might be asking too much of people.
Vincent: I’d like to share my vision with people who can’t see what I see the way I see.
Doctor: Yes, but why?
Vincent: Because my vision is closer to the reality of the world. I can make people feel what it’s like to be alive.
Doctor: Do you feel like they don’t feel alive?
Vincent: Yes, I do.
Doctor: And you think you can make them feel that through painting?
Vincent: Yes. Yes, absolutely.

Doctor: Gaby said your ear was wrapped in this, and she was supposed to give it to Paul. You wrote “Remember me,” on it. What did you mean by that? Maybe you were trying to show him what he meant to you through that act, but that was something you couldn’t see.
Vincent: I didn’t want him to leave. It was a way to get him back. Jesus said, “If thy hand offend thee, cut it off.”
Doctor: So you cut off your ear because you couldn’t bear to hear what Paul was saying?
Vincent: I believe I have a menacing spirit around me. An invisible being. I feel it, I don’t see it. He speaks to me and threatens me. And all he wants to do is plunge a knife into my heart. I saw him and I tried to cut him out of myself.
Doctor: So that’s the reason why you cut off your ear. Your vision of the world, as you say, is quite frightening. Isn’t it?
Vincent: Yes. I’m terrified he’ll come back.

Albert Aurier [reviewing the paintings of Vincent]: “Beneath skies that sometimes dazzle like faceted sapphires or turquoises, beneath the incessant and formidable streaming of every conceivable effect of light. In heavy, flaming, burning atmospheres, there is the disquieting and disturbing display of strange nature that is at once entirely realistic and yet almost supernatural. Often excessive nature where everything, beings and things, shadows and lights, forms and colors, rears and rises up with a raging will to howl its own essential song in the most intense and fiercely high-pitched timbre. It is matter and all of nature, frenetically contorted. It is form becoming nightmare, color becoming flames, light turning into conflagration, life into burning fever. Such is the impression left upon the retina when it first views the strange, intense and feverish work of Vincent van Gogh. How far are we, are we not, from the beautiful, great tradition of art? Never has there been a painter whose art appeals so directly to the senses, from the indefinable aroma of his sincerity to flesh and the matter of his paint. This robust and true artist, Vincent van Gogh, towers above the rest.”

Paul [voiceover]: “My dear Vincent, I’ve looked most attentively at your works since we parted. First at your brother’s place and then at Independence Exhibition. It’s above all at this latter place that one can properly judge what you do. Either because of things positioned beside each other, or because of neighboring works. I offer you my sincere compliments. And for many artists, you are the most remarkable in the exhibition. With things from nature, you’re the only one there who thinks. I’ve talked about it with your brother, and there’s one that I would like to exchange with you for one thing of your choice. I hesitated greatly to write to you knowing that you had just had a rather long crisis. So, please don’t reply to me until you feel completely strong. Let’s hope that, with the warm weather that will return, you’re going to get well at last. The winter is always dangerous to you. Cordially, ever yours, Paul Gauguin.”

Priest: What happened on the road to Arles?
Vincent: I don’t remember.
Priest: You did walk out of the asylum.
Vincent: I wanted to go out.
Priest: The townspeople of Arles have signed a petition against you. They don’t want you to come back there.
Vincent: Yes, I know.
Priest: Did you ever molest a child?
Vincent: No. Never.
Priest: Did you cut off one of your ears to give it to a prostitute? Is that true?
Vincent: Yes, I did. But Gaby’s not a prostitute.
Priest: Why did you do that?
Vincent: I wanted her to give it to a friend of mine.
Priest: And she did?
Vincent: I don’t know.
Priest: And that was a strange offer, wasn’t it? Do you feel angry sometimes?
Vincent: Yes.
Priest: And what do you do then?
Vincent: I go out, look at a blade of grass or a branch of a fig tree in order to calm down.
Priest: And it works?
Vincent: Yes. I feel God is nature and nature is beauty.
Priest: I’ve seen you in the garden, painting. And I’ve heard from others that you say you were a painter.
Vincent: Yes, that’s what I am.
Priest: Why do you say that? Do you have a gift for painting?
Vincent: Yes.
Priest: Where does this gift come from? Would you say that God gave you the gift of painting?
Vincent: Yes, He did. It’s the only gift He gave me.
Priest [showing him a canvas]: Did you paint this?
Vincent: Yes, I did.
Priest: And you call it a painting?
Vincent: Yes, of course.
Priest: Tell me frankly because I’d like to understand. Why do you say you’re a painter?
Vincent: Because I paint. I love painting. I have to paint. I’ve always been a painter. That, I know.
Priest: A born painter?
Vincent: Yes.
Priest: How do you know?
Vincent: Because I can’t do anything else. And believe me, I’ve tried.
Priest: So, God gave you a gift so you could paint this?
Vincent: Yes.
Priest: But don’t you see…Now look, carefully. Please. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but don’t you see that this painting is…how can I say…unpleasant. It’s ugly.
Vincent: Why would God give me a gift to paint ugly and disturbing things? Sometimes I… feel so far away from everything.
Priest: Does anybody buy your paintings?
Vincent: No.
Priest: So, you’re poor?
Vincent: Yes, rather poor.
Priest: How do you live?
Vincent: Well, my brother, Theo, pays for me to be here. But he’s not a rich man either.
Priest: So, you believe that God gave you this gift because He wants to keep you in misery?
Vincent: Huh. I never thought about it that way.
Priest: And which way do you think?
Vincent: Sometimes I think…maybe He chose the wrong time.
Priest: What do you mean the wrong time?
Vincent: Maybe God made me a painter for people who aren’t born yet.

Vincent: I think of myself as an exile, a pilgrim on this earth. Jesus said, "Turn your heart away from things visible “and turn yourself to things invisible.”
Priest: Indeed. But…
Vincent: And Jesus also was totally unknown when he was alive.
Priest: How do you know that?
Vincent: My father was a pastor. I’ve been around religion all my life…and before I realized I was a painter, I tried myself to be a man of God. So, I learned quite a bit about the topic.
Priest: So you know the gospels?
Vincent: Not only the gospels, I can tell you that Jesus wasn’t discovered until 30 or 40 years after he died. When he was alive, nobody talked about him. There’s not even a letter from a Roman centurion to his wife in Rome saying that a man named Jeshua was crucified in Jerusalem with some other criminals. Not a word, nothing. You know, this is my job to decide if you’re well enough to leave this place.

Priest: You know, this is my job to decide if you’re well enough to leave this place.
Vincient: This reminds me of Jesus on the terrace.
Priest: Which terrace?
Vincent: Speaking to Pilate, who definitively, if you believe what was written, didn’t want to crucify him. It was the people.
Priest: Yes. We could have a real discussion about this theory some other time.
Vincent: Pilate didn’t want to crucify Jesus, but everything Christ said incriminated him, so… I, too, have to be careful with what I say to you.

Vincent [upon hearing that no one has bought any of his paintings]: People say that I don’t know how to draw, how to paint. They say my paintings are clumsy, ugly. I used to care what people thought. But not anymore. I have no choice. If I couldn’t paint, I would murder someone.
Theo: That’s why I send you money for your paintings because I really believe you are a great painter. And I’m a businessman. I’m a business man after all. So, you paint, and leave the rest to us.

Doctor Gachet [posing for painting]: Why do you paint?
Vincent: I paint, as a matter of fact, to stop thinking. A sort of meditation. When I paint, I stop thinking.
Doctor: About what?
Vincent: I stop thinking, and I feel that I’m a part of everything outside and inside of me. I wanted so much to share what I see. An artist…
Doctor: Yes?
Vincent: I thought an artist had to teach how to look at the world. But I don’t think that anymore. Now I just think about my relationship to eternity.
Doctor: What do you call eternity?
Vincent: Time to come.
Doctor: Hmm. Maybe what you are saying is that your gift to the world is painting.
Vincent: If not, what good is an artist?
Doctor: You’re happy when you’re painting?
Vincent: Most of the time, except when I fail.
Doctor: You look sad sometimes.
Vincent: There’s a lot of destruction and failure at the door of a successful picture. I find joy in sorrow. And sorrow is greater than laughter. You know, an angel is not far from those who are sad, and illness can sometimes heal us. It’s the normal state that gives birth to painting.
Doctor: You feel that way?
Vincent: Sometimes I hate the idea of regaining my health…Sometimes they say I’m mad, but a grain of madness is the best of art.

Vincent [voiceover]: I feel a pain in my stomach. He was dressed like Buffalo Bill.[/b]

Then a surreal scene…two kids playing cowboys and Indians and accidently shooting Vincent in the stomach. When in reality…

Doctor: What did you do? You have a bullet hole in your stomach.
Vncent: I don’t know.
Doctor: Did you shoot yourself?
Vincent: Maybe. I don’t remember. Don’t blame anyone. Don’t blame anyone.
Doctor: Do you have a gun?
Vincent: No. Never.
Doctor: So how did you do that?
Vincent: I don’t know. Tell… Tell my brother to come.
Doctor: Oh, I did. He’ll be here soon.

Here the movie version is at odds with the version from wikipedia:

The following morning Theo rushed to his brother’s side, finding him in good spirits. But within hours Vincent began to fail, suffering from an untreated infection resulting from the wound. He died in the early hours of 29 July. According to Theo, Vincent’s last words were: “The sadness will last forever”.

Title Card: Vincent Van Gogh was shot on July 27, 1890 and died on July 29, of a bullet wound in his stomach. In the remaining 30 hours of his life he never mentioned the boys or anything about the incident surrounding his death.

Why the different versions?

dailyartmagazine.com/myster … ogh-death/

I have a film recommendation
If there is any lagging doubt about the horrors of guantanamo bay please take a look at “The Mauritanian”.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mauritanian
It tells the story of Mohamedou Ould Slahi who had once fought alongside American forces in Afghanistan fighting Russians, was rounded up two months after 9/11 and spent many years in Guantanamo Bay with out charge.

I’ll say no more to avoid spoilers.

wrong thread

wrong thread

The Believer, an interesting film from Ryan Gosling’s early days. An insight into the struggles faced by more intellectual proponents of right-wing anti-semitism. Loosely based on the real life character of Daniel Burros. Very topical.

https://fmoviesz.to/movie/the-believer-wjrk/1-1

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