If you think “127 Hours” is a melancholy movie because it involves self-mutilation to escape death, prepare to be proved wrong. It is NOT a movie about the loss of an arm; it IS a movie about the gaining of perspective and an increased thankfulness for the importance of living.
Director Danny Boyle takes the true story of climber Aron Ralston, forced to cut off his arm when it was trapped under a boulder, and pulls out all the stops to make it an absolutely majestic cinematic tribute to the human spirit. Together with James Franco at the top of his game, “127 Hours” has the power to turn hyperbolic praise into understatement.
The five days Ralston spends with his arm pinned underneath a boulder is reduced to about 90 minutes of claustrophobic discomfort for the audience as we anxiously await the inevitable. But nonetheless, it’s still an enormously affecting watch, and it sure does know how to get your heart racing. There’s never a dull or wasted moment to be found in the movie thanks to Franco’s sublime and enlightened performance. While shooting on location, Boyle consistently had him act in character for 20 minutes straight and then relied on the editor to find 30 seconds to make it into the final cut. This total immersion into Ralston’s desperation makes Franco all the more raw and moving.
I see a lot of movies, and I don’t exactly try to hide it. People often ask me, “Have you seen this movie?” I breathe and most often reply, “Yes, I have.” Then I brace myself and wait for the inevitable follow-up question: “How was it?”
I have a nice reservoir of descriptors that I’m ready to whip out at a moment’s notice, but I usually start with the simple good. If a movie is particularly noteworthy, I might add very in front. If people are particularly curious, they might probe for more, asking “Really?” At this point, I’ll take the time to more thoroughly explain my thoughts, pointing out a certain performance or technical aspect I found to be exemplary. It’s also at this point when I whip out more sophisticated adjectives, like dazzling, flooring, and mind-blowing.
With “Inside Job,” I can skip over good and go straight to the vocabulary that no movies ever allow me to use. It was infuriating, an outraging movie experience that left me reeling and in total shock. How often does a movie come along that merits the use of those words?
Given that it took a $20 trillion global meltdown to bring me such sentiments, I’d rather have this be the only time I have to feel similarly. But we have to face the facts: it happened, and documentarian Charles Ferguson goes all the way back to the era of Alan Greenspan to show how the financial crisis began. He then takes us through the next twenty years, stopping along the way to show all the ways that the recession could have been prevented.
If Joaquin Phoenix managed to have me pretty fully convinced that he was serious when he did the “Hasidic meth dealer” act for over a year, does that make him a good actor … or me a gullible onlooker? In a way, that’s the sort of question “I’m Still Here” wants you to answer, although there was enough media coverage surrounding Joaquin Phoenix’s committed transformation that a movie just seems unnecessary.
Directed by Phoenix’s brother-in-law, Casey Affleck, the movie is a piece of performance art by Joaquin Phoenix masquerading as a documentary. He makes some interesting observations on the nature of the star, which detract from the actor. The reasoning is that by excising the actor and becoming a rapper (something he is incredibly ill-suited to tackle) we will realize that we love the celebrity more than we love their talent.
And, in a sense, he’s right. As we observe his year of withdrawal, we see the media circus in full tilt, quick as ever to judge. They mistake the performance for the personality, much as I and many others did. The documentary flirts with this blurry line, and there are many times when it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. This problem isn’t made any easier by Affleck’s unstable direction, but it makes for a perplexing experience that virtually requires the viewer to take on the role of a detective exploring Phoenix’s mind.
This artistic experiment Phoenix puts on for a year is never dull or boring. The best word to describe it is bizarre, and all of his strange fetishes for strippers, drugs, and cruel pranks make him out to be either one sick actor or deranged man. Either way, “I’m Still Here” doesn’t endear us to any side of Joaquin Phoenix. It’s an uncomfortable watch at times as he borders on insanity, even knowing that it’s all a big hoax.
What I think Phoenix doesn’t realize is that this offbeat performance has forever enshrined him in our minds as a kooky celebrity, not an actor, in effect giving an averse reaction. Whatever the case, I’ll certainly never see “Walk the Line” in the same way as before. B- /
Losing a child is painful in the real world, but in the sphere of cinema, it’s hardly breaking new ground. In order to communicate the emotional trauma of such an event, movies have to take the material in different and unexpected directions. “Rabbit Hole” is a success story, presenting the story of husband and wife affected by the preventable death of their four-year-old son in entirely different ways. John Cameron Mitchell takes the great theatrical aspects of David Lindsey-Abaire’s Pulitizer Prize-winning play and reminds us the power that great dialogue can have while also using the great resources of film to supplement the already incredibly powerful film.
Nearing the one-year anniversary of their son Danny’s passing, Becca (Nicole Kidman) and Howie (Aaron Eckhart) are still reeling. Caught in the unenviable conundrum of choosing to mourn or move on, each find a different way to cope with the void in their lives. Becca tries to find life by acting like the hole isn’t there, removing the traces of Danny that remind her that he is gone. She finds solace, strangely, through talking with the teenager that hit her son. Becca also has to deal with the pregnancy of her irresponsible sister (Tammy Blanchard), which only complicates her volatile emotional state, and the intervention of her mother (Dianne Wiest), eager to offer advice after going through the loss of a son in her own right.
Howie, on the other hand, tries to hang on to the fading memories of his son, particularly by watching a video of Danny on his phone. Rather than try to adjust to life without his son, he advocates starting a new life altogether. He pitches selling their house and having another child, neither of which are received well by his wife. Howie has faith in the traditional methods of dealing with grief, holding onto the belief that the group therapy sessions can work long after Becca gives up on them. When those who look to religion to solve their problems finally drive her away from the group for good, he strikes up a friendship with an eight-year veteran (Sandra Oh) still looking to make peace with the loss of her child.
Looking for a warm Thanksgiving-themed movie to watch while the turkey is in the oven? Take a bite out of the delectable comedy “Pieces of April,” my timely pick for “F.I.L.M. of the Week.” I watched the movie back in March because of Patricia Clarkson’s Oscar-nominated supporting role, but there’s so much more to love about the movie than her. I’ve been an enthusiastic fan for quite some time now, and I held back posting about it until now, when the timing seems right.
Think about, we get a plethora of Christmas movies but no love for Thanksgiving? By the time November rolls around, all the stores are already decorated to sell Christmas gear, XM Radio has already started their Christmas station again, and the retailers start to post their holiday sale information. There’s so much to celebrate about Thanksgiving, one of the few holidays we have left that isn’t heavily commercialized. So for all those who think that Thanksgiving is just the day before Black Friday, step away from the wallet and sit on the couch and watch “Pieces of April.”
Since Thanksgiving is a holiday about family, it makes sense that this a movie all about family, both the ones we are forced to be a part of and the ones we make ourselves. April (Katie Holmes, pre-Tom and Suri madness) is the twenty-something rebel living in New York to maintain a distance from her dysfunctional family, but welcomes them to her tiny apartment for Thanksgiving dinner, potentially the last for her mother Joy (Clarkson), embittered by her breast cancer diagnosis. The movie follows both sides as they think they have the hardest part of the deal: April actually attempting to cook a turkey and her family making the journey from suburbia.
Each encounter difficulties, with April’s oven breaking and Joy’s negativity forcing them to take some trite and unnecessary delays. However, April finds that her cooking struggles force her to interact with her neighbors, with whom she had never associated before. She finds that she can actually be friends with these people, and that’s what makes “Pieces of April” such a great movie for such a great holiday: it’s all about the relationships, both appreciating the ones you have and being open to making new ones.
Gone is the familiar comfort and charm of the Hogwarts castle in the first installment of “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,” and the movie has a distinctively different mood throughout. At times, it feels like Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road: Kids Edition” as the three undaunted friends Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger traverse through hazardous territory to find horcruxes, pieces of dark magic in which Lord Voldemort has stored his soul. There are seven in existence – two have been destroyed in past movies, and over the course of 150 minutes, we get to watch them find and destroy not two, not three, but a single horcrux.
Take that in. All the trouble to split the final book of J.K. Rowling’s series in two, and they squander an entire half on just one horcrux? Standing alone, it feels like a whole lot of exposition amounting to little more than a section rising action that culminates in a pseudo-climax that just feels somewhat off.
The important thing to remember, especially for rabid “Harry Potter” fans like myself, is that this is the first half of a two-part saga. Normally, the first half of any movie is its lesser component, and particularly so in this series. The first hours often struggle to remain totally exciting through the set-up, and they also have the daunting task of getting the rising action going, which can often be pretty slow. If the first half of any movie had a full narrative arc, wouldn’t that essentially be defeating the purpose of the second half?
There’s something noticeably missing from “Conviction,” Fox Searchlight’s annual super Oscar bait entry: emotion.
The movie has a fascinating premise at its core as Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) works tirelessly over the course of two decades to acquit her innocent brother Kenny (Sam Rockwell) of his murder conviction, putting herself through law school while raising a family at the same time. His case is solved quite simply by DNA evidence pulled from the crime scene and getting the witnesses to testify to their intimidation by a crooked female police officer (Melissa Leo).
The struggle against the law manages to keep us interested for two hours, but the way the story is told by screenwriter Gray and interpreted by the actors fails to compel us. The movie feels like a first draft, lacking any sort of refinement or polish. I found it particularly alarming that director Tony Goldwyn felt content with the performances of Hilary Swank and Sam Rockwell given their history of powerful performances.
Both actors are in low gear, offering work that seems void of any sort of emotion or care. It feels like they are doing their first read-through of the script and simply reading the words for the first time, not stopping to look into subtext or the true intents of their characters. Even when the movie tries the typical heart-warming moment, Swank and Rockwell don’t even seem to be trying to convey any sort of feeling. The movie’s chain of events moves, but we as an audience are not moved. It’s interesting to see the story of Betty Anne Waters, but since Swank doesn’t seem to find it as such, maybe you’ll find more interest in checking your e-mails or Facebook while following along with the plot. C /
There are plenty of political documentaries out there to watch, each of them pointing out a specific flaw in the system and offering an optimistic solution. Most find that they can make the most effective film by focusing very narrowly on their subject. Alex Gibney proves an exception with his Academy Award-winning “Taxi to the Dark Side,” my pick for the “F.I.L.M. of the Week.”
I got a chance to attend a seminar and discussion with Gibney at the Houston Cinematic Arts Festival today, and it was a very interesting and enlightening hour. Gibney talked about how he learned the importance of voice, story, and individual perspective while working on “The Blues,” and these three things have shaped the way he has made all of his movies since then. He said that it’s often hard to keep these things in mind, particularly the story since the process of scripting a documentary is backwards. But, as he stated, “If you don’t pay attention to the story, no one will care about the themes.”
I watched a few of Gibney’s movies to be able to ask an intelligent question at the seminar, and I found myself really wanting to ask him about “Taxi to the Dark Side.” It’s such a fascinating movie because at the core, it’s about three soldiers who torture and kill an innocent taxi driver named Dilawar on the Bagram Air Base. Yet Gibney knows that their story cannot be accurately and honestly told by keeping the perspective limited to just the men, the victim, and the base. He expands the scope of the movie not only to cover the United States’ torture policy and the complicated ethical arguments surrounding it, but also to include how the American public has become desensitized to torture. We leave the story of the three normal soldiers for extended periods of time to cover the highest officials in the country but the movie never forgets that their story is at the center of the movie.
The movie was made in 2007 whenever George W. Bush still occupied the Oval Office, so I wondered what exactly Gibney hoped to achieve by making the movie when he did. I asked him how the times affected the way he made “Taxi to the Dark Side,” wondering what it would look like if he made the movie in 2010 when Barack Obama calls the shots. He replied, “I don’t think of myself as a crusader; I think of myself as a storyteller.” In response to his claim, I can only be in full support. Gibney clearly has an opinion and isn’t shy about expressing them in his movies; however, he offers up so many facts and ethical questions that you can’t help walking away from the movie questioning why you believe what you do. You can choose to change or stay the same, but everyone is bettered by further understanding of their own values.
Gibney concluded his response to me by stating that “Taxi to the Dark Side” centered around this question: how do we retain our values in the face of a pernicious threat? No matter your opinion on what went down in Iraq, we all have to admit that we lost a sense of American righteousness and justice in the eyes of the world over the past decade. Terrorism has threatened our security and stability as a nation like few things ever have, but are we willing to discard our most American values to stop it? What price are we willing to pay for our safety? Gibney doesn’t offer us any easy answers, and that’s what makes this such a great movie. Rather than throw solutions in your face like other activist documentaries, his “Taxi to the Dark Side” merely raises the questions and leaves you pondering them for days.
“Morning Glory” centers around the fictional morning talk show Daybreak, which is in fourth place in the ratings behind The Today Show, Good Morning America, and “whatever CBS has in the morning.” In the realm of movies centered around talk shows, this Rachel McAdams vehicle falls among the ranks of Good Morning America in that spectrum. It has heart and makes for some undeniable fun, but the familiarity of the story and premise make it difficult for the movie to have the resounding emotional impact it so greatly desires.
It’s less a story about the newsroom as it is about the woman running it, Becky Fuller (McAdams), a career girl who is so focused on her job that she bumbles through every other aspect of her life. It’s just as easy to be inspired by her drive to return Daybreak to glory as it is to be off-put by McAdams’ phoned-in performance. She is so overly kinetic and frantic that it feels awkward. I’m a huge fan of her work, so I was surprised to find myself reacting so aversely to her charms.
Without McAdams in full force, the rest of the movie has to pick up the slack, and, for the most part, it does. What the script lacks in originality it makes up for in humor, through both great lines and on-air moments that recall some of the most YouTube-worthy news anchors of our time (I’m talking to you, Grape Lady). The diva aspect is totally nailed as well, particularly shining through Diane Keaton’s prima donna anchor Colleen Peck. We rarely get to see the aging actress anymore, and she spins every line into gold.
It’s particularly great to see her quarreling with Harrison Ford’s Mike Pomeroy, an aging Dan Rather-type anchor with no time for anything but what he deems “serious” news. Ford plays him as a sort of gruff Walt Kowalski from “Gran Torino” with the intimidating deep voice and booming temper, which sometimes borders on excessive. Yet Ford is far from bad, still managing to find ways to make his interpretation work. He delivers the emotional climax of the movie, which the script bungles, and saves it from being a total disaster, quite a feat in itself.
There’s a lot to enjoy about “Morning Glory,” and while that doesn’t include great thematic depth, this isn’t the kind of movie that requires it to be successful. It’s a great ball of fun, warm and fluffy, that will hold up very well on repeat Sunday afternoon viewings on TBS. And as far as unoriginal movies go, this is about as good as they get. B /
It’s really a shame that we live in such a polarize political climate that we rush to affiliate any movie about current events with a political ideology. Because “Fair Game” tells the story of a woman and her husband who did their jobs and were led to be skeptical of the Bush administration based on their information, it has been labeled a liberal movie.
Yet what makes “Fair Game” one of the best movies I’ve seen this year is the fact that it is a politically conscious movie but not necessarily politically charged. It’s a movie that reminds us that the truth has no political affiliation, and it reaffirms the very American responsibility to stand up and voice our discontent when we see the government failing in its duties. Naomi Watt’s Valerie Plame Wilson does this in spite of one of the worst political climates for dissent in our history, and it’s a rousing profile in courage that will reinforce your sense of patriotic duty.
How is it possible for the story of a woman who dared to question the authority and logic of President George W. Bush to be patriotic? At first glance, the movie seems to be painting an incredibly cynical and unflattering portrait of the government. Without remorse, they ruin Plame’s career by outing her as a covert CIA agent. Under the leadership of Scooter Libby, the office of the Vice-President takes steps to discredit her and leave her without support to face the most powerful institution in the country.
Pixar’s “The Incredibles” produced many great quotes, but I’ll never forget the grave statement that the villain syndrome made towards the end of the movie: “When everyone’s super, no one will be.”
The point I’m trying to make here is not to draw a comparison between “Megamind” and Pixar’s 2004 gem, and that’s not just because it hardly exists since the two aren’t even in the same ballpark in terms of quality. What I want to say is that movies involving superheroes and supervillains have pervaded so far beyond the Marvel and DC universe that the word “super” has lost quite a bit of luster.
The latest creation from the minds at DreamWorks animation (their third in 2010) is following hot on the heels of “Despicable Me,” another supervillain movie that somehow managed to set the box office on fire in spite of its middling mediocrity. The two do have quite a few similarities, largely the central characters who put on the façade of a villain when they are actually big softies. Neither offer anything new for viewers who have sat through countless superhero movies for kids, and “Megamind” importantly raises the question of how long audiences will toleration this repetition before it all drowns into monotony.
There’s some nice humor throughout the movie to help offset the predictable plot, and it’s a bearable watch that could be marginally enjoyable given you watch it in the right disposition. The talented voice cast brings their A-game to the table: Will Ferrell with his over-the-top schtick, Tina Fey with her brilliant sarcasm, Jonah Hill with his “Superbad” obsequious dork rambling, and Brad Pitt with his … well, he does the deep voice, and his kids will scream with excitement when they hear him.
I will give “Megamind” that it does attempt to jump into musings on the nature of good and evil and the inherent nature of man. However, these concepts are explored in the most basic, watered-down, “Sesame Street”-manner that they might as well have not been attempted. Really, the whole movie could have just not been attempted to save us all some time. Sure, it’s fine entertainment, but don’t we already have more than enough quirky superheroes and supervillains? Do we really need a blue one with a giant cranium? C+ /
With Danny Boyle set to have the world eating out of his hand again with “127 Hours” opening in limited release today, I thought it would be wise to check out his full catalogue to see how this stylistically virtuoso director flew under my radar for so long. I didn’t make it all the way through, so my judgement isn’t final. However, I did conclude that the vibrant energy he brought to “Slumdog Millionaire” is nothing new; he has been perfecting it over the course of a decade.
In case the tacit implication wasn’t clear in that last paragraph, I still think that “Slumdog Millionaire” is Danny Boyle at his peak. Easily his most realized and lucid directorial work, it is clear that Boyle is a director worthy of Hollywood’s most coveted trophy. However, I found that among his other films, “Sunshine” stuck out as another masterwork. Set in 2057 when the universe is about to implode, the intelligent science-fiction movie is easily Boyle’s most underrated.
There’s a sense of claustrophobia not unlike that present in Ridley Scott’s “Alien” as the crew of the Icarus head towards potentially imminent demise on a mission to reignite the dying Sun. The seven ethnically diverse crew members (because this is an international mission, after all) face immense psychological distress as the fate of the universe rides on their shoulders. All seem ready for sacrifice – or are they? As the ship moves closer towards the Sun, the astronauts begin to act more out of self-interest and less out of humanity’s interest.
The movie is more of a psychological journey than a visual one, although Boyle does a nice job of seamlessly integrating some very dazzling effects into the movie. This journey is effective because of the movie’s authentic feel, accomplished through scientific consultation and the method acting procedures Boyle put his cast through. “Sunshine” may not sound entirely original, and to a certain extent, it isn’t. But imagined through Boyle’s eyes, it’s a blazing cinematic trek to the edge of space filled with excitement and suspense.
It’s interesting to see the growth of the “hyperlink cinema” filmmaking style over the past decade. In an age where we often feel so isolated and alone, living out just our own story, these movies that manage to intertwine multiple apparently unrelated storylines fill us with a sense that we actually are connected with everyone in the world around us.
The latest entry in this style comes from writer Peter Morgan (“Frost/Nixon”) and director Clint Eastwood, “Hereafter,” a musing on the nature of life and death in modern times. Eastwood, who has made a name directing gritty movies, would seem to be the last person to take on such a project. Yet at 80, his age and experience give the movie an overarching sense of peace and placidity.
In one sense, “Hereafter” is more focused than more sprawling movies like “Crash” and “Traffic,” which attempt to weave together what feels like dozens of characters in the course of two hours. Morgan gets us well acquainted with three principal figures spread across three countries.
George Lonengan, played with composure by Matt Damon, has the ability to talk to the departed but struggles to maintain control over their intrusion into the way he lives his life. There’s the age-old “gift vs. curse” dialectic haunting him as well, and it has forced him to resign himself to factory labor in San Francisco.
Marie, a subtly affecting Cecile de France, makes contact with the hereafter when she nearly drowns in the 2004 Indonesian tsunami. Her experience sticks with her when she goes back to her job as a news anchor in Paris, and it’s obvious to everyone around her that she has something more than mere survivor’s guilt. Trying to move on but unable to let go of her experience, her views of what awaits us after death lock her into a “faith vs. reason” debate that has accompanied countless discussions of heaven.
In London, a touching and hard-hitting story of mourning arises after death separates Jason and Marcus (Frankie and George McLaren), leaving the latter feeling left behind and alone. With a mother addicted to drugs, he feels he has nowhere to turn to but the supernatural. Whether Marcus seeks companionship or closure is left much to the audience’s imagination, but no matter what the goal is, it’s an emotional journey.
Crime dramas are nothing new in Hollywood. We see them year after year, mostly from some unproven director trying to be Martin Scorsese. In “The Town,” Ben Affleck manages to distinguish himself from this crowd. While he’s still no Scorsese, his second directorial feature is entertaining and effective because his message is clear from the beginning, and he executes it with precision and bravura.
With an impressive ensemble armed with Bostonian accents, the saga of family and criminality adapted from Chuck Hogan’s “Prince of Thieves” lights up the screen. The movie opens with a bank robbery so marvelously orchestrated it could be symphonic that sets up the movie’s two storylines: the hunters and the hunted.
Don Draper – pardon me, Jon Hamm – leads the FBI’s investigation into the robbery. Looking to make an example out of the expert criminals, they specifically focus on Claire Keesey (Rebecca Hall), the manager taken hostage and subsequently released by the group on their exit.
Evading capture, Doug MacRay (Affleck) is the leader of a band of Charlestown robbers-for-hire forever at the mercy of Fergie the florist (Pete Postlethwaite), the neighborhood’s kingpin of crime. He and his brother Jem (Jeremy Renner) have known nothing other than this life, unable to escape the legacy of their now-imprisoned father (Chris Cooper). Doug is looking for the much sought-after “last job,” the one heist that can successfully put at end to his criminal career.
I know that the technical cutoff for classic movies is 1968, but I’m making an exception for 1973’s “The Exorcist” seeing as it’s Halloween and I’m still trying to atone for missing this column back in August. I know I said that I never wanted to see this movie, but given the season, I was a little curious. And as a movie buff, how could I not see a movie that was for a time the highest-grossing film ever?
I’m not a fan of horror, particularly the Satanic sub-genre. I have just begun slowly introducing myself to these movies, largely because I feared them so much even into my teenage years. At first, I discovered I wasn’t really that scared at all. I thought it was a fluke, so I watched a few more. Turns out, I’m really not that affected by horror unless something jumps out of nowhere and the volume shoots up.
“The Exorcist” is really no different. It’s eerie and creepy, particularly Regan’s transformation from a sweet, innocent child to the Devil incarnate, complete with a tattered face and green vomit. But on a scare level, it really isn’t very frightening. The movie doesn’t give any indication that anyone we know could become the Devil at a moment’s notice, so what reason do I have to fear?
Perhaps I speak as the product of a dulled, jaded generation. In my lifetime, horror has two camps: ultra-sadistic blood and guts to the point of excess, or subtle haunting. There really is no middle ground, yet that is exactly where William Friedkin’s Oscar-nominated horror tale seems to fall. The demonic child scenes are about as close to horror porn as I imagine the 1970s could produce, and everything else (including the exorcism) seems to be the movie’s subtler side.
I think my biggest issue with the movie was the enormous amount of exposition provided. We get the characters set up and learn their situations for about an hour. Usually the tacit contract between filmmakers and moviegoers states that if you give a lot of exposition, the movie needs to vamp up to a climax that much more. “The Exorcist” doesn’t really build much, and for all we sit back and wait for the action to come, the payoff isn’t all that satisfying.
The movie all leads up to, you guessed it, the exorcism of the demonic child. The word gets tossed around so much nowadays, and the ritual has certainly lost some of its mystical power with each haphazard exorcism movie thrown into production. Regan’s exorcism, however, lasts for a disturbingly and unsettlingly long amount of time. If it doesn’t affect you at first, it will after the ten millionth time the two priests shout out “the power of Christ compels you!”
As a a sort of origin for a lot of horror movies that have frightened audiences for the last 30 years, “The Exorcist” proves to be an interesting watch. An Academy Award nomination for Best Picture, though, seems a little bit much. This is a good movie, don’t get me wrong, but just because a horror movie has a plot, good performances, and a few chills doesn’t mean it deserves a shot at Hollywood’s highest honor. Maybe it’s all the crummy rip-offs that the movie inspired that make feel so nonplussed by the movie, but according to Tim Dirks, “its tale of the devil came at a difficult and disordered time when the world had just experienced the end of the Vietnam War … and at the time of the coverup of the Watergate office break-in.” Times have changed, and it could be a good sign that I can’t match the devil to any current events.
Marshall and the Movies 
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