To thine own self be true

Well, it figures. If you have dopes in power like Trump, sooner or later, the lies, frauds, stupidity will work its way down and free the inner ignorance of ‘lower-downs’ and cult followers to rise to the top.

“No social stability without individual stability.”–Aldous Huxley

The problem of individuals and groups with these asinine agendas is now at work on both sides of the border. Here in Canada, there have, likewise, long been crazies who seek power and influence. Now, with social media, they imagine they have it and abuse the airways with disinformation, misinformation, out and out lies, frauds, and sheer b.s. None of them based on a modicum or iota of fact, truth, common sense, reason, and specific evidence.

“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.”–Aldous Huxley

This is, in larger terms, a war on reason, stable rational order, the value of authorities, and science itself. It is much easier and more fun for some to run about with their hair down screaming absurdities in the streets and committing violence in public against anyone who questions or opposes them. Zero critical thinking skills.

Welcome to the new Dark Age, where the more civilized denizens will have to fight to maintain common sense, facts, truth, reason, and science than ever before. It is a huge rejection of how far the West has come after centuries of major progress: a sudden, irrational, recurring preference for evil and sheer darkness.

“We have met the enemy and he is us” (Pogo/Walt Kelly) revisited.

An action-adventure genre about moral codes and a morality tale. Two ‘addicted’ main characters with f—ked up lives. A duality and yet rapport of alter egos; both professional with integrity. A movie about character and choices.

This is very much an actors’ film. Al Pacino plays Vincent–a hyper, hard-nosed L.A. detective who specializes in busting ‘scores’ and outwitting evil criminals. Robert de Niro plays the more subdued, but rigid Neil, who tries to stick to his ‘program’ without losing his edge to spontaneity and a non-criminal fantasy life.The big scene, actually the first climax, occurs midway in the film when they meet in a coffee shop for a unexpectedly quiet, reflective 7-minute conversation that epitomizes the artfulness of this masterpiece.

The rest of the casting is fantastic and the quality of acting is genuine and authentic in feel. Val Kilmer plays Chris, Tom Sizemore plays Michael: two of the gang who reveal depths of character for their supporting roles. Kevin Gage is awesomely scary as ‘loose-screw’ Waingro, the violent rogue gang member who is revealed to be a pyscho-serial-killer. Jon Voight also gives a memorable, understated performance as Nate, the seamy fence middle-man.

The women actors (Diane Venora, Amy Brenneman, and Ashley Judd) are, likewise, strong, effectively portraying the women in conflict with Vincent, Neil, and Chris. They give sympathetic, nuanced, and believable performances.

The intense action scenes are realistic and quite outstanding. The actors had to rehearse their shooting scenes on a firing range using real bullets. The bank robbery-gone-wrong climax featured 800-1000 shots used in each take.

The musical score by Elliot Goldenthal is memorably unique and uses many avant-garde pieces from a variety of sources and other composers. These are essentially tactile sound-experiments created by cellos, multiple electric guitars, and percussion instruments.

The look of the film is predominantly an edgy blue and grey palette. In particular, cinematographer Danti Spinotti makes L.A. by night look very different from myriad other films. There is even one scene with de Niro looking at the ocean which resembles Alex Colville’s classic painting “Pacific”, but shot entirely in blue.

The ending is poetic and one that makes the connection between the two alter-ego lead characters. It is the best possible ending for a film with this much subject-matter depth and an adroit, masterful style. It’s hard to imagine any viewer not being moved or disappointed by Mann’s choices in the showdown-finale.

Highly recommended: the 2-disc DVD set with numerous interesting extras. (Language and violence warning. IMHO: not for under 18s.)

What Jason Kenney called Gretchen Whitmer, which is what he truly is. A chip off the old mini-Trump block.

Reprehensible American carpetbaggers nuisance-calling before 7 a.m.

August ’71, in the back seat of a rented green Comet, “Sweet City Woman” on the radio and 30 plus heat pouring thru the open windows: no AC. Winnipeg to Grand Beach on the old 59.

I wore my Mickey Mouse tank-top and you brought our small blue beach ball to throw around as we walked onto the sandbars, looking back at my parents there on the dunes, towels over their heads in the midday sun.

While a transistor played “Take Me Home, Country Roads”, we ate fries from trays doused in vinegar, as the heat throbbed down upon us. On the way home, we stopped to buy corn from a native man at a roadside stand, later agreeing those were the best cobs we had ever tasted as we sipped Bacardi and coke, in the stifling apartment. Little did we guess this would be our last two-couple trip sans kids.

First times are often the best. We really knew how to live then: simpler and younger. Together, free, and just starting out.

“Why can’t everyone else shut up, remain calm, and quietly die without reproaching me?”

are usually the most interesting, exciting, and core sections of their songs. I first became aware of them back in grade 9 (1963-4) when they were first broke in Canada. “It Won’t Be Long”, which was the first song on Beatlemania (the first album released here) with a very catchy bridge which went:

Since you left me I’m so alone,                                                                                                              Now you’re coming, you’re coming on home,                                                                                    I’ll be good like I know I should,                                                                                                            You’re coming home, you’re coming home.

About the same time, we teens were flipping over their 45 rpm of “I Want to Hold Your Hand” to find:

Well, my heart went boom                                                                                                                      When I crossed that room,                                                                                                              And I held her hand in mine.

in “I Saw Her Standing There”.

From such modest, but memorable beginnings, the typical payoff- climaxes of many a Lennon-McCartney song.

Who could forget

I don’t know why she’s riding so high,                                                                                                She ought to think twice,                                                                                                                    She ought to do right by me.                                                                                                              Before she gets to saying goodbye,                                                                                                 She ought to think twice, She ought to do right by me.                                                     (“Ticket to Ride”)

or

All these places had their moments,                                                                                            With lovers and friends I still can recall,                                                                                    Some are dead and some are living,                                                                                                    In my life I loved them all.”                                                                                                             (“In My Life”)

as the lyrics became more intriguing, unconventional, and thoughtful.

Word choice and ideas became more poetic and less straightforward on songs like “Lady Madonna”:

Friday night arrives without a suitcase,                                                                                              Sunday morning, creeping like a nun.                                                                                        Monday’s child has learned to tie his bootlace.                                                                            See how they run.

And there was a cool cinematic feel to bridges like the one in 1967’s “A Day in the Life” from the drug-inspired Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album:

Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head,                                                  Found my way downstairs and drank a cup                                                                                  And looking up I noticed I was late. Ha, ha, ha.                                                                        Found my coat and grabbed my hat,                                                                                          Made the bus in seconds flat,                                                                                                     Found my way upstairs and had a smoke                                                                                   And somebody spoke and I went into a dream.

As they continued, the word choice eventually became more multi-levelled and abstract, as in “Hey Jude”:

So let it out and let it in,                                                                                                                   Hey Jude, begin,                                                                                                                            You’re waiting for someone to perform with.                                                                              And don’t you know that it’s just you,                                                                                           Hey Jude, you’ll do,                                                                                                                                The movement you need is on your shoulder.

There is also a philosophical quality to the bridges from Revolver onward, reflected in one of their last hits, “The Ballad of John and Yoko”:

Saving up your money for a rainy day                                                                                          Giving all your clothes to charity.                                                                                                  Last night the wife said, “Oh boy, when you’re dead,                                                                        You don’t take nothing with you but your soul.”

Before The Beatles, most pop songs consisted of just verses and choruses. What they added, lyrically and musically, were clever and sometimes exquisite bridges which were often the ‘money parts’ of their songs, especially the hits. And, as they developed and honed their songwriting skills from 1963 to 1970, their bridges moved from ear-catching lines to clever, more sophisticated wording and phrasing.

Here is one such about a typical life boiled down:

Started

small,

grew,

peaked,

shrunk,

vanished.

–George Saunders