'Spectre' and Daniel Craig's James Bond

Since Bond 25 has been in the news, it seemed as good a time as any to give 2015's Spectre a re-watch.

I don't necessarily consider myself an avid Bond fan (I've never seen a Roger Moore film all the way through). But close enough. I have watched every entry in The Bond Blueprint series on YouTube [insert sheepish emoticon]. 

As Bond, Daniel Craig has always been a favorite of mine. He infuses the character with a depth and complexity seldom seen in 007 throughout the decades. Only Timothy Dalton approached the character in a similar vein--as a complicated and driven man, compassionate and ethical as he is ruthless and cold blooded. It is this approach to Bond that has always appealed to me. Both Dalton and Craig took pains to study author Ian Fleming's original character prior to shooting their films, and it really does show.

Spectre is the fourth film in Craig's run as 007, and a direct follow up to 2012's Skyfall, which saw Dame Judi Dench's M die in a shootout at Bond's childhood home in the Scottish highlands. Though Skyfall was insanely popular, both critically and commercially, I could not help but feel like the film was a bit of a regression in the current incarnation of the series. Tonally, it was much different from Casino Royale (2005) and Quantum of Solace (2008), and in many ways hearkened back to earlier Bond eras.

Director Sam Mendes made no secret of his desire to return classic Bond elements to the series. "It was taking the new, tougher Bond — the realer Bond, who has much more of an inner world — and bringing back some of the things that could reconnect me to my inner 13-year-old, that gave a thrill when I was a kid: the DB5, the Bond theme. And doing them in a way that was dramatically justifiable in the story" [source]. Mendes did not quite succeed in the "dramatically justifiable" aspect, at least not in my opinion. I feel that in the long view, he excised what made Craig's run unique and applicable to our time. The appearance of the DB5 in Skyfall threw me completely out of the story. It's appearance, coupled with a cheeky exchange between Bond and M concerning the car's ejection seat, amounted to no less than a conscious breaking of the 4th wall. I'll venture to say that Mendes let his nostalgia get the better of him, to the detriment of Craig's Bond. Because as I would point out to Sam, Casino Royale and the oft-maligned, but truly underrated Quantum of Solace were not just about a "tougher" Bond, but a Bond at ease in the modern world, and what's more, a Bond that had only recently acquired his 00 status. Craig's cold-blooded assassin was no "dinosaur of the Cold War," as M referred to him in Goldeneye (1995), but rather a product of the post-cold war world.

Craig as Bond at the end of Casino Royale (2005).
Ten years and three films later, I'm still waiting to see this Bond come into his own. 

So for Bond to appear in Skyfall as a washed up, out of touch old school spy is quite jarring and out of step with what Craig had done so far in the part. Granted, 'washed up' is probably more applicable to Craig's actual age. Because let's face it, he's no spring chicken. But this is Hollywood folks, and while Craig is rapidly approaching the crest of the hill, he's no Roger Moore in A View to a Kill. In Spectre, he's back on top. The physical difficulties and struggles to adapt so prevalent in Skyfall and crucial to its plot are nowhere to be seen.

The other aspect to Bond's character regression in these later entries is his dynamic with women, specifically those he pursues romantically. While Bond should always be a ladies man and a master at seduction, he should never never be creepy or off-putting, particularly in the current era. But for some reason, Mendes and his writing team have made him both. Is this another aspect of Mendes'  Bond nostalgia--his "inner 13 year old"? Who knows, LOL. Skyfall saw Craig's Bond slither into the bathroom of Miss Severine, who in the scene prior, Bond learned was a victim of sex trafficking and a slave of the despicable Raoul Silva. One might call Bond's sneaky shower-stall antics "comforting" to the haunted Severine, and it seems Mendes meant it that way in his staging of the scene. But it comes off more creepy than anything else. Compare Craig's actions here with his considerate treatment of Camille Montes in Quantum of Solace. Though there is attraction between the two, Bond makes no move to bed her. She is a victim, driven by a passionate desire for revenge against the man who murdered her parents. Bond respects this, understands it, and helps her achieve her goal. Again, this is a truly modern Bond, fully capable of having a non-sexual dynamic with a beautiful woman he encounters.

Bond and Camille in Quantum of Solace (2008)

This aspect also highlights what was a major arc for Craig's Bond in Casino and Quantum. He was constantly being reminded that his penchant for using and discarding women was destructive and unethical. In Casino, a woman he seduces for information, is tortured and hung out to try in a beach-side hammock. In Quantum, the lovely Miss Fields, an office agent for MI6 who is sent to collect a rogue Bond, is drowned and slathered with oil and laid out on a bed for Bond to find. "How many does this make now, James?" M asks with a searing glare. Bond gets the message and keeps his hands off Camille.

"How many does this make, asshole?" 

This character development is all but destroyed in Skyfall and also in Spectre.

The first half hour of the film revolves around Bond's mission to hunt down and kill an Italian crime lord named Marco Sciarra. Bond retrieves a ring (the film's McGuffin) from Sciarra, marking him as a member of SPECTRE. Bond tracks done Sciarra's widow (Monica Bellucci), to learn from her the identity of the "Pale King".

James follows the widow to her villa and dispatches two assassins sent by Blofeld to kill her. He proceeds to extract information from the grieving widow, in extreme close up while nibbling on her face. Though Craig and Bellucci have chemistry, the moment is more awkward than erotic, mostly because it is not earned. It makes little sense for the vulnerable widow, who a few moments ago was prepared to be shot in the back, to find this thuggish British agent so irresistible. It undermines her character's obvious sophistication and gravitas. And for Bond to aggressively move on her sexually is so brutish and random. When she shows initial resistance to his questioning, he shatters some champagne glasses and pins her to the wall. We later cut back to the couple in the bedroom post-tussle as Bond buttons up his shirt. He fires off a plan to use his Intelligence connections to get her safely beyond the reach of her enemies. And just like that, the widow Lucia Sciarra is gone from the film. Such a misstep on the part of the screenwriters, but more on that later.

           
I've never seen a film so willing to divulge the answers to its secrets, or that undercuts its own potential so thoroughly and so quickly. I really want to like this film! It has so much going for it in the first act. The set up is essentially James Bond versus the Illuminati, which is a tantalizing and promising premise. But then the plot gets itself into a hurry. And before you know it the film has devolved into a family soap opera--Apparently Mendes' idea of further developing Bond's "inner world".

Just who's idea was it exactly to turn classic Bond villain, Ernst Stavro Blofeld into James's petulant, vindictive foster brother? It is truly head spinning how a film so broad in scope at the outset can collapse into such buffoonish schlock. Though somehow, someway, Craig as Bond and Christopher Waltz as Blofeld sell it--as best it can be sold that is.

Waltz could have made a memorable and threatening Blofeld. Emphasis on the could have.

Spectre's primary sin is in its clumsy attempt at tying the four films of the Craig series together. After the tonal and character shifts of Skyfall, Mendes would have been better off just leaving Casino and Quantum on their own. Though I can say I enjoyed the return of the hitherto mysterious Mr. White (Jesper Christensen) of the Quantum organization. I also liked the basic concept of Quantum being a subsidiary of SPECTRE. The idea could have really worked had Skyfall and Spectre been true sequels of the two earlier films. As it is, the reveal of SPECTRE and its diabolical leader is deprived of its weight by the aforementioned Bond family drama.

Not only does Blofeld have a personal link to Bond, but we learn that Ernst--birth name "Franz Oberhauser"--actually murdered his father because he was jealous of the attention he lavished on a young James. Further to that, we discover that Blofeld, the seeming mastermind, the de-facto head of the Illuminati itself, is consumed by a desire to make Bond's life miserable. To the extent that we as the audience are asked to believe that it is Blofeld who was behind ever major trial and loss James has faced--from Vesper Lynd to M. 

This is absurd. To the point of my suspecting that the writers and Mendes were trolling the audience. Not true, unfortunately.

There isn't much to say about the film's dull subplot involving a Blofeld subordinate's (played by the creepy, shark-eyed Andrew Scott) attempt to link the Intelligence networks of the world together via a massive digital grid. For some odd reason, this film repeats the "is old-fashioned, on the ground Intelligence work relevant to our modern time?" beat that Skyfall focused on.

Naomie Harris and Ben Whishaw are capable in their respective roles as Moneypenny and Q. Ralph Fiennes is competent as M, though mostly boring and lacking the punch that Judi Dench brought to the role. Killing her off in Skyfall was a major mistake in my view--part of the misguided concept of making the films about Bond's personal life and emotional psychology.

In sum, Spectre could have been much, much better, even after the missteps of Skyfall. Allow me to put forth a suggestion or two...

It goes without saying that Monica Bellucci was criminally underused in this film. Her character is yet another example of Spectre's squandered potential. The troubled widow Sciarra is a far more interesting character than Lea Seydoux's, Madeline Swan. Bellucci is also far more appropriate age-wise opposite Craig. As it is, the Swan/Bond relationship nears the realm of cringe. In his retro-sensibility, director Mendes seems keen to evoke shades of Roger Moore's later films, which saw a near-geriatric Bond gallivanting about with women young enough to be his grand daughters.

Bellucci as Bonds's main love interest would have carried on in the spirit of Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace in portraying a truly modern and more grounded Bond. The opportunity for James to have a serious connection with a woman his own age and with an equivalent amount of baggage ought to have been too sweet to miss. But Mendes and his writers did somehow. Too many Vodka martinis in the writer's room I guess...

But just imagine with me for a sec: Lucia and James on the run from SPECTRE--a shadowy force with a world-wide reach and unlimited resources, headed by an unknown figure feared and reviled by all who do his bidding. Bond has made himself a nuisance to Blofeld, and so has been marked for death. Blofeld plays with James like a bored cat (see what I did there!!) with a mouse, casting 007 into a net of underworld intrigue and psychological games. He is cut off from MI6 and forced to fend for himself, sans gadgets and the usual Intelligence resources. Through his own ingenuity and cunning, he discovers the whereabouts of Blofeld, and sets out to confront the master crime lord in his own lair.  The film would end with SPECTRE seemingly defeated, and with Bond throwing in the assassin's towel to marry the beautiful Sciarra, THEN *drumroll*... She is killed on the honeymoon by one of SPECTRE'S agents. Which would lead into--you guessed it-- an updated and re-imagined Diamonds are Forever as Craig's final Bond film. Would've been great, eh?

Make no mistake, both Skyfall and Spectre are beautifully shot films--probably the best of the Bond films in that respect. But for me, that only makes their shortcomings more lamentable. I think Mendes is an accomplished and talented director (as if he needs my approval). Road to Perdition is on my favorites list.

Maybe I'm just jealous because he got Kate Winslet to marry him. Sigh.              

     

MLK and the Unspeakable

The notion of the "Unspeakable" was developed by author and philosopher James Douglass in his groundbreaking work on the political and historical context of the Kennedy assassination, JFK and the Unspeakable: Why He Died and Why it Matters. In essence, the Unspeakable is the near-supernatural force that gathers to oppose those who promote peace, truth, and justice in the world. Throughout time, the Unspeakable has been comprised of many separate groups and actors (military, political, and otherwise), who coalesce around a single target in order to destroy it. Conspiracy, yes. But that label does not do justice to the evil and malice inherent in the Unspeakable and those it bands together. The Unspeakable is the spectre who dare not be named. The unacknowledged monster in the room of America's past and present. The beast who devoured the American dream.

Douglass' book chronicles John Kennedy's journey from an avid proponent of the Cold War to a "peace at any price" President. Kennedy had clashed with his generals and a commie-hunting CIA throughout his term in office. The Agency's manipulation of him during the Bay of Pigs fiasco prompted Kennedy to vow that he would bust the CIA into a thousand pieces and "scatter them to the winds". He fired director Allen Dulles, a longtime Washington insider and power player who, along with his brother, had ridden roughshod over both the presidency and congress throughout the 1950s, staging coups and funding insurgencies, all in the name of blood-soaked "democracy".

By the autumn of 1963, Kennedy had brokered a nuclear test ban treaty and had taken great strides in pulling the U.S. out of Vietnam. Yet, the CIA and warmongering elements in the Pentagon continued to undermine his agenda. Douglass documents Kennedy's horror and depression over the assassination of the Nhu brothers, an outcome he had worked hard to prevent, and which spurred the United States towards an escalation in Vietnam. The President was also being fed false intelligence about the on-the-ground situation in Vietnam. Author Douglas paints a picture of a commander-in-chief increasingly isolated and maneuvered against. It was in this climate that November 22, 1963 arrived.

Kennedy the moment he received word of
the assassination of the Nhu brothers.

One of the more stunning aspects of Douglass' work is its profile of Lee Harvey Oswald, one of the most demonized men in American history. There is now little doubt on the part of any honest scholar, that Oswald was an asset of the CIA, and part of the Agency's false defector program, designed to elicit secrets from Soviet players. What Douglass reveals is that, despite the so called "judgement of history," Oswald was anything but a rabid communist out to gain fame by murdering a president. In point of fact, Oswald was actually pro-Kennedy, as evidenced by a speech he gave at a college in Alabama in 1963. Among other things, Lee warned in the speech that clandestine coups were not restricted to third-world nations, but could very well occur in the United States. Astoundingly, it becomes apparent through Douglass' scholarship that Oswald was a conscientious young man being manipulated and maneuvered into position as the patsy in the plot to kill JFK.

He was a pawn of the Unspeakable.

And now onto Martin Luther King Jr. and accused assassin, James Earl Ray.

One of the greatest cons ever perpetrated by the Unspeakable was the notion that all of the assassinations of the 1960's were undertaken by crazed lone nuts, motivated by delusions of glory and desires to kick back against the system. Conveniently excised from this narrative is how each of these assassinations aided the establishment in the furtherance of its goals: most namely the perpetuation of war for profit.

Last Wednesday marked the 50th anniversary of King's assassination. King was shot by a sniper on the balcony of the Loraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee on April 4, 1968. A man named James Earl Ray would later be arrested, tried, and convicted of the crime. The official narrative holds that Ray shot King from a bathroom window in a nearby boarding house. The motivation? Hate and racism. Ray was painted as an unapologetic and rabid bigot, a portrait that went on to become embedded in the curriculum of the U.S. education system and the general public consciousness.

But Ray wasn't a racist, and there is compelling evidence he never shot MLK.

Indeed, like Lee Harvey Oswald, it seems Ray was yet another pawn in the hands of the Unspeakable.

In 1999, a civil trial concluded that James Earl Ray was innocent in the murder of Dr. King, and that King's death was the result of a large scale conspiracy on the part of the U.S. government*. The verdict was fully supported by the King family who, to this day, maintain Ray's innocence. Both the outcome of the trial and position of the King family has largely been suppressed by the mainstream media. 

Two of James Ray's brothers have written books declaring their brother to be innocent of the crime attributed to him by "history". While the Ray brothers were heavily involved in bank robbery and various petty crimes, they grew up in St. Louis, Missouri near black neighborhoods and had black friends. Both brothers insist that racism was not present in the family household, and certainly never espoused by James. 

The best evidence used to place Ray at the scene was the "eyewitness" testimony of a passed-out drunk and a rifle with a highly questionable chain of custody--the latter will be resoundingly familiar to anyone familiar with the minutia of the Kennedy assassination.

James Earl Ray taken into custody.

Like Oswald, Ray was shuffled around and funneled money by a mysterious source in the months leading up to the assassination. His secret benefactor was known only as "Raoul," again a telling call back to the JFK assassination and the plethora of anti-Castro Cubans orbiting around it and around Oswald.

In the climate surrounding the 50th anniversary of the MLK assassination, the mainstream media has again trumpeted the narrative of Ray's guilt, and more pointedly, his racism. Fueling the fires of racial angst has long been a tactic of the establishment and the psych war of its Intelligence agencies, intent as they are upon keeping the populace divided and distracted from the machinations of the war machine and corporate slavery, among other evils.

There is simply no question that MLK posed a grave threat to power players in the United States. It is accepted in the mainstream that J. Edgar Hoover's FBI did everything in its power to slander and destroy King. But the negative attitude towards MLK did not stop there, it ascended higher...to the level of the Unspeakable.

Had MLK joined forces with then presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy, the damage to the status quo would have been irreparable. King's message had been shifting steadily from race relations to a broader stance that embraced the anti-war movement. If elected, Bobby Kennedy vowed to end the war in Vietnam, and privately swore to reopen the investigation into his brother's murder.

The Unspeakable, the great beast, could never allow these two men to unite. So it did what it always does.

It swallowed them whole.

*for an excellent series of articles regarding the truth behind the murder of Dr. King, follow this link.

 

    

The Esoteric Nature of Mel Gibson's 'The Passion'

It was always puzzling to me how Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ was such a hit among American Evangelicals. It is a deeply Catholic work after all, whose screenplay was based not only on the Gospels but the writings of two eccentric nuns, Mary of Agreda and Anne Catherine Emmerich. Anne Catherine claimed to have experienced graphic visions of Christ's execution, and was said to have received the stigmata as a result of her devotion. In any other case, Evangelicals would run screaming from such figures, with cries of "heresy" on their lips to boot. Not so where Gibson's 2004 film about the death of Jesus was concerned. But far be it from me to burden Evangelicals with an expectation for consistency.

I think the core reason The Passion was embraced by the conservative Christian right is that it presumably served to give their base beliefs mainstream legitimacy. Mel Gibson was a world famous celebrity and movie star at the time, renowned for epic films like Braveheart. And his film about Jesus promised, at least on the surface, a straight up and literalist retelling of the Biblical narrative--no trysts with Mary Magdalene or singing crucifixion victims here! And Mel delivered the goods for those seeking no more than simple validation of Christianity's central tenets: that Jesus Christ was born of a virgin, was the Son of God, was killed to absolve sinners, and was resurrected after three days. This was all Evangelicals needed. They flocked to see Gibson's film in record numbers, assuring its box office success. Gibson has now said that he plans to make a sequel to The Passion, depicting Jesus' three days "in the grave".    

I hate to break it to Evangelicals at this late date, but Gibson's film is, at heart, less a traditionalist recounting of Christ's crucifixion and more a love letter to ancient Catholicism and esoteric/Gnostic concepts and archetypes.

I love this film!

As someone who has studied the occult and occult symbolism, it is fairly simple to see what Gibson is doing and the message he is conveying. He imbued his work with heavy visual and narrative occult symbolism. The film's story is a journey from deep darkness into light--from ignorance and fear into illumination and peace. The figure of Christ is, at first, the archetypal novitiate who must undertake a painful journey to gain a higher plain of consciousness/awareness.

The Passion opens with Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, pleading with his Father in Heaven to "take this chalice from me". Gibson's staging of this scene is paramount. Jesus is surrounded by shadow and gloom, lost in his anguish. As clouds cover the Passover moon, he is cut off from illumination, from truth and light. It is then that the figure of Satan appears, heralded by a snake, to tempt Christ away from the arduous journey he must undertake.

The character of Satan is depicted by Gibson as an androgynous figure. He/she is without concrete form, and throughout the film, leers at Jesus from the sidelines. "Who is your father?" Satan asks him in the garden. The devil projects here, tempting Christ to doubt himself and his identity--to become formless and void as Satan is.

Gibson's Satan represents the material and the finite, a lower vibrational being that seeks to prevent the ascension and spiritual progression of others.

But Christ chooses to progress, despite the temptation offered by Satan to remain in the material and eschew gnosis.

Christ is arrested by the Jewish authorities. In the process he is pummeled and brutalized by their soldiers. And here debuts one of Gibson's key visual symbols--the opening of the third eye. In the film, when Jesus is struck in the face, his right eye swells shut. Far from a mere nod to medical accuracy on the part of the production, the swelled eye and more specifically, the eye that remains open, is a central aspect to Gibson's portrayal of Christ.         

The application of the all-seeing eye to the figure of Jesus was apparently lost on the Evangelical movie-going public. If they had grasped it, perhaps they would not have been so quick and eager to endorse Mel's film. But it shouldn't be that difficult to put together. After all, just look at Gibson's Icon Productions logo, situated at the front of the film like a trumpet blast for those paying attention.

In current popular culture, the all-seeing eye or the Eye of Horus is affiliated with the Illuminati. It is the eye of Lucifer, employed for centuries over by nefarious elites seeking to sacrifice children and rule the world.

So is Gibson a closet Luciferian?

In a word: NO.

Gnosis goes both ways. One can seek to ascend either into the light or to descend into shadows. The manifestation of the all-seeing eye or the third eye can be utilized for either the former or latter purpose. Understanding the ancient mysteries can lead to enlightenment and harmony or to a desire to manipulate the material and enslave the uninitiated. With The Passion, Gibson is clearly seeking to do the former. He is sharing the knowledge of ascension.

Christ writing "mysteries" in the dirt.

Christ has his third eye opened, signaling the start of his journey into a higher plain, into increased spiritual awareness and consciousness.

While being led away to the Temple in chains, the soldiers prod Jesus across a bridge. Halfway over he is shoved off by one of the sadistic brood. Christ falls and is caught by his chains. He dangles in midair. Seen by critics of the film as the first of many sequences of gratuitous violence, this episode is in fact nothing of the sort. It is Gibson giving us another symbolic message.

"The Hanged Man" of the tarot is a powerful symbol of surrender, letting go, and sacrifice. Christ hanging next to the bridge is a dramatic foretelling of his later suspension on the cross. He is the symbolic sacrifice-the death of ego and of the material.  

And just in case you miss the blatant third eye symbolism elsewhere, Gibson emphasizes it here with a creepy highlight effect.

This is also the point where Jesus comes face to face with his betrayer, Judas, who has been skulking under the bridge. Aside from the all-seeing eye, I love Christ's expression to Judas here. It is incriminating and mournful in the same instance. Judas has betrayed the light. His path is one of descension rather than ascension--the archetypal "deal with the devil".  

Another central component to the film is its very Catholic veneration of Mary, the Mother of Jesus. It is also another element that Evangelicals conveniently ignored. But Mary shares protagonist duties with Christ in the narrative. 

Esoterically, she is the mother of all, Mother Nature, the mother goddess. She is Christ's connection to all that is good in the material world, to unpolluted creation. She mourns the suffering of those on the path to ascension.

More occult symbolism. "So above, so below".

At the time of its release, The Passion made headlines for its scenes of prolonged, bloody violence. The scourging sequence goes on for an interminable length, replete with splatterings of blood and ripping flesh. This is followed by the excruciating fourteen stages of the Via Dolorosa, and then the crucifixion scene itself. 

For Evangelicals and Christians of a traditionalist bent, the graphic sequences in Gibson's film amounted to a prolonged display of Christ's "love for us". Acts of violence that fundamentalists would normally decry in film, were here embraced with enthusiasm. The recent moral panic of the 90s was supposedly all but forgotten when The Passion hit theaters. 

For secularist commentators, the violence in the film was no less than fetishistic. The brilliant Christopher Hitchens wrote the following scathing denouncement in the pages of Vanity Fair. 

    "One has to positively want it to go on and on, all the way, every cut of the lash and every bloody footprint and every rusty nail, until the very bitterest end. At least one has to desire this if one believes in the film’s “agenda”—which is a clumsy, melodramatic attempt at the vindication of biblical literalism."

Following the thesis that Gibson's purpose was more esoterically symbolic than surface or literalist, my contention is that both sides missed the point when considering the violence in the film. Hitchens points out that the gory displays of violence in The Passion are not even that accurate, lacking as they are in nudity, defecation, and other such unpleasant realities that occur when humans are brutalized. Hitchens uses this point to put the lie to the film's supposed claims of accuracy and historicity. 

But I find it obvious that Gibson never intended for the violence to be a literal presentation of what occurs when a real human being is flogged and nailed to a cross beam. The violence is highly symbolic. 

Allow me to indulge in another reference to the tarot.

"The Ten of Swords" represents the low point and martyrdom. Gibson's symbolic Christ is scapegoated on his journey to ascension. He must undergo a trial of fire before reaching a higher vibration and consciousness. The material world strips the traveler of all dignity and strength before a breakthrough is reached. 

Tellingly, The Passion does not include a prolonged resurrection scene. There are no hushed maidens happening upon the empty tomb, or disciples interacting with angels. While this gave some Christian viewers pause, it was, like many other aspects of this brilliant film, ignored or misunderstood. The scene does not follow the Biblical narrative, because the film is not a literalist recitation of the Gospel story. 

The final scene of The Passion is no less than a visual representation of achieving enlightenment and illumination. Gibson's Christ has undergone a transition from the strictly material to the plain of spirit. He has reached true gnosis.    

      

The Way Back

As noon approached on March 20th, the Spring Equinox, I readied myself for a time of meditation and reflection. I began by taking deep breaths and listening to calming music (YouTube is replete with meditation tracks! I recommend binaural beats and 432hz music).

With this process begun, I started to release all the pain, anger, and frustration that was pent up inside of me. As the season changed and winter was left behind, I basked in the thought of Spring, of wholeness, and of new beginnings. 

Such moments are few and far between for me, but I am learning. I am still letting go of destructive and narcissistic thought patterns and habits that have crippled me for too long. The crush of life does a really bang up job of preventing healing and wholeness. But no battle was ever won lying down or standing still. Pressing on and going forward is the only path to spiritual and emotional wellness. 

What also helps in the process is reaching out to others. So many are in pain and brokenness. Taking the first step into the healing journey is often the hardest, especially if you are separating yourself from toxic people and relationships. You will be misunderstood, marginalized, and slandered. It is important to seek out others who have either experienced or are experiencing a similar situation. Understand that you are not alone. Take the brave step. Read widely. Seek counseling and therapy.  

Here are some helpful resources for those seeking to define or achieve healing from, toxic or co-dependent relationships, particularly with extended family. The road to mental and emotional wellness is not an easy one--it is fraught with trials and hardships. But there is an oasis on the other side! Do not let anyone or anything stand in the way of your psychological, spiritual, and emotional health. Take steps to protect and safeguard yourself, and especially those you love most. Never allow a spouse or child to be castigated, demonized, or used against you. Remember that you are most likely kicking against toxic family cycles generations in the making. The patterns and relational dynamics that have wreaked havoc on your emotional and psychological health will not be easy to let go of. Despite the pain and grief they cause, they are in fact addicting. Shattering destructive cycles takes time and tremendous effort. But it will be worth it!

Changing Destructive Behaviors

Going No Contact with Relatives

Scapegoat Families

The Healing Spectrum

On Recovering from Codependency

On Recovering from Emotional Abuse

Reactive Abuse and Gaslighting

'The Alamo' (Film Review)

The Alamo, a 2004 film starring Billy Bob Thornton, Dennis Quaid, Jason Patric, and Patrick Wilson, and directed by John Lee Hancock, billed itself as the first historically accurate retelling of the famous 1836 siege and battle of the Alamo. As a Texas Revolution history buff, I take contention with this claim. The film offers a capable depiction of its subject matter, and while it gets many details correct, it also indulges in questionable revisionist narratives.

Released by Disney's Touchstone Pictures, The Alamo had a troubled production history. Original director Ron Howard left the film after Disney refused to front the budget he wanted, and also required Howard to keep the rating PG-13. With Howard's exit also came the departures of actors Russell Crowe and Ethan Hawke from the project. Despite these setbacks, the film went into production under Director John Lee Hancock.

Produced in the midst of the Iraq War, the film's screenplay is openly critical of Anglo ambitions in 1830s Texas. To what degree the screenwriters were trying to make a parallel with contemporaneous events is unknown. But the film is anxious to provide a revisionist take on the Texas Revolution. The Anglo settlers in Texas are generally depicted as greedy land grabbers, frothing to fulfill the credo of Manifest Destiny. Early on in the film, Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid) attempts to lure then Congressman David Crockett (Billy Bob Thornton) to Texas with the promise of free land. The encounter never occurred in real life, but the filmmakers use it to cast the ambitions of American pioneers in a certain light. At one point in the film, a Tejano revolutionary remarks, "these lowlifes want the entire world!". While I personally feel the Iraq War was a travesty and a waste of life and resources, it is in no way comparable to the Texas Revolution.

The historical reality was a bit more nuanced. But like many revisionist narratives, The Alamo is eager to reduce its central conflict to greed and prejudice vs. multicultural harmony and goodwill. Historically, the Anglo settlers that came to Texas were motivated by a wide variety of factors, unique to each group and family. Mexico was eager to settle its vast territory of Coahuila y Tejas, and so established an open immigration policy. The promise of land, a new beginning, and freedom to live as one pleased was attractive to many. Settlement in Texas was contingent upon a conversion to Catholicism as well as an oath of loyalty sworn under the Mexican Constitution of 1824. General and president Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna would later shred the document, sparking the revolution.

The Alamo more or less depicts the Texian freedom fighters as a band of deplorable scoundrels. Aside from the characters of David Crockett, William Travis, and James Bowie, we barely get to know any of them before they are butchered in the pre-dawn attack of March 6.

Travis, Crockett, and Bowie

The aforementioned "big three" or "the trinity of the Alamo" are depicted as seriously flawed men doing their best despite the circumstances. Thornton's Crockett is a world weary celebrity, trapped by his "King of the Wild Frontier" image, which he feels is a sham. Travis (Patrick Wilson) is a foppish young Calvary officer, eager to find his grit and prove himself. Bowie (Jason Patric) is a broken down wreck, mourning the loss of his young wife and undergoing an existential crisis.

While Thornton, Wilson, and Patric perform their roles well, their characters as written do not really reflect historical truth. But these depictions are central to the relativistic themes the screenwriters and director were trying to convey, namely that there are no heroes or villains in a story like this--only flawed humans who kill each other out of fear and greed. While perhaps a noble attempt at humanizing these famous historical figures, it is more an over-correction to past Anglo-centric idealizations of these men. Both are extremes and not indicative of historical reality.

Unfortunately, Hancock's historical advisers were not the best. The film did not utilize the latest in Alamo scholarship, but rather promulgated revisionist perspectives of the seventies and eighties. Chief among these is the notion that David Crockett did not die in the final chaotic battle, but surrendered and was executed under the direct order of Santa Anna. The primary historical source for this narrative comes from the post-war diary of a Mexican officer, imprisoned and quite bitter towards the now disgraced Mexican president. Knowing of Crockett's celebrity, the account was no doubt a politically motivated attempt on the part of its author to smear the reputation of Santa Anna. In all probability, Crockett was part of the large group of Alamo defenders who broke free from the compound that morning and were cut down by the Mexican Calvary. This pivotal event is not depicted in the film.

The final battle of the siege on March 6, 1836.

The filmmakers went to lengths to recreate the Alamo compound and the town of San Antonio as it was in 1836. They didn't quite succeed. The town and mission are too small and claustrophobic, and do not accurately reflect the lush environment of the San Antonio River basin. Also, designer Michael Corenblith made some bizarre decisions, such as altering the position of the Alamo church, which throws off the overall symmetry of the mission as it looked in 1836. John Wayne's efforts for his 1960 epic are much more evocative on screen. Corenblith utilized perishable materials to construct his set, while Wayne's designer used actual stone, and it shows.

Historicity aside, the film succeeds in its atmosphere and tone. Hancock does a commendable job at conveying the desperate nature of the thirteen day siege, particularly the harrowing experience of the Mexican army's continual cannon bombardment. The final nighttime battle is both quick and intense, as it was in reality. Though it is in this area that the film could have benefited from Ron Howard's desired R rating. The film's meditations on death and suffering are also poignant, with the scenes of a deathly ill James Bowie standing out.

Carter Burwell's score is both haunting and understated. He employs woodwinds and acoustic sounds to great effect. Of note are David Crockett's performances on violin.

The Alamo is well-worth the time. But the definitive film on this historical subject has yet to be made.        

'Winchester' Misfires (Film Review)

If I kept higher expectations for new releases these days, then I surely would have been disappointed by Winchester, the recent horror flick starring Dame Helen Mirren and Jason Clarke. As it is though, I was only marginally let down.

I've always had a fascination with the historical figure of Sarah Winchester and her mysterious mansion of walled-off rooms and stairways to nowhere. I recall viewing a documentary on the subject as an adolescent that sparked my imagination and probably kept me awake for a few nights.

Sarah Winchester was a wealthy widow who inherited the Winchester Arms Company from her late husband, William Winchester. Sarah came to eschew the famous rifle bearing her last name, known as it was for its deadly accuracy and claiming innumerable lives on the western frontier. After the death of her husband and baby daughter, Sarah came to feel that her family was cursed. She retreated to her mansion home near San Francisco, California and began what would become a lifelong building project and obsession.

The legend goes that Sarah believed herself to be haunted by all the spirits whose mortal lives had been ended by a Winchester rifle. Through nightly seances, these vengeful ghosts demanded Sarah make accommodation for them. Using automatic writing, the spirits would channel architectural designs through Sarah and onto paper. Sarah would then hand off these designs to her permanent labor force, who would then execute them in reality. That the "designs" were often bizarre and nonsensical made no difference to Sarah, and the crew did as they were told. All of the above has been denied by scholars at one time or the other. But it sure makes for a tantalizing story.

  The exterior of the mansion as it appears in the film. The effects work is

 shockingly bad here. This looks like a background from the old 1998 PC game, Myst. 

Set in 1906, the film Winchester is told from the perspective of fictional character Dr. Eric Price (Clarke), who is hired by the board of the Winchester Arms Company to evaluate Mrs. Winchester's mental health. Price is brought to stay at the mysterious mansion and ghostly chaos ensues.

We discover early on that Clarke is a skeptic and man of science, with an addiction to laudanum on the side. He attributes his initial spirit sightings in the mansion to the influence of said drug, that is until Sarah (Mirren) has her hollow-eyed butler confiscate the goods from Price's room. 

The first twenty minutes or so of the film are intriguing, and I hoped were providing the foundation for a meaningful plot and measured horror. However, the content of the remaining run-time had me convinced that the writing team had a substance addiction themselves. I have no idea how the screenplay for this film made it past the green-light stage.

What heralded the doom of this picture was, as you might guess, the first of many jump scares. The build to it was superb, utilizing a set up with Price and a shaving mirror. Each time Price turns to retrieve something from his bag, he moves the mirror in its frame to reveal an empty armchair in the corner of the room. This repeats two or three times, building the tension. If the writers had possessed any degree of subtlety or finesse, they would have left it at that--just a build up with no pay off. It would have been a clever way to hook the audience and keep them on the edge waiting for the first real spirit appearance. As it is though, we are assaulted with a jump scare in the form of a rotted ghost face appearing behind the mirror.

As I suspected, the moment would epitomize the entirety of the film: a wasted opportunity. What follows is a tiresome and oddly comical series of "thrills" and "scares", culminating in the giggle-inducing image of a vengeful Confederate ghost throttling a battered Mrs. Winchester against a shattered gun case. This film is not the first time in recent memory that I've wondered if the filmmakers are trolling the audience. I'm formulating a conspiracy theory that this is actually an avant-garde style of movie making--a cynically cheeky ode to our times if you will.

The always superb Helen Mirren as Sarah Winchester.

Mirren and Price do a capable job in their respective roles, though Mirren seems to grow rather glassy eyed as the picture progresses. The far too few scenes of the two together in Price's evaluatory  sessions show potential, and one wishes these moments had been fleshed out and shaded. The themes of coping with grief, the fear of death, and skepticism vs. superstition are powerful and really could have been explored at length here. Is Sarah merely a grief-stricken widow, encased in a world of delusions, or does she truly communicate with the dead? And by extension, is Price, himself a widower, retreating from grief and guilt in the skepticism he promulgates? These questions should have been the heart and soul of the film. Perhaps such was the original intent of the writers. But somehow, somewhere, something went terribly askew, not unlike the Winchester mansion itself.

   

'My Friend Dahmer' (Film Review)

Yes, I'll admit it, I'm into True Crime. For those who don't know, True Crime is a non-fiction literary and film genre that explores actual crimes and actual murderers, from Jack the Ripper to Ted "ladykiller" Bundy. Quite understandably, True Crime is a guilty hobby for many, often hidden from family members and coworkers. We know all too well those odd/worried looks cast our way when we start prattling on about the true identity of Saucy Jacky or the minutia of the Tate/Labianca crime scenes. I suppose we shouldn't complain though. After all, doesn't one have to be a bit of a creep to be interested in this stuff? I would beg to differ, but that is a debate for another time. 

Now that I have that bothersome (though necessary) caveat out of the way, I can proceed with reviewing My Friend Dahmer, a 2017 independent film that explores the teenage years of serial killer and cannibal Jeffery Dahmer, ending just prior to his first murder at the ripe old age of 18.    

My Friend Dahmer is based on a 2012 graphic novel by artist Derf Backderf, who attended high-school with Dahmer in the late 1970s. During their school days, Derf, along with a group of friends, established the "Dahmer Fan Club," inspired by the fake seizures Jeff used to pull in class and in public. Dahmer was their weird mascot, the boy who got a laugh but never connected with anyone. To see Derf's blog about his memories of Dahmer and his experiences on the set of the film, follow this link. 

Writer/Director Marc Meyers treats his source material with respect, presenting an accurate film adaptation that is both haunting and poignant. At the heart of his film is the troubling question: What makes a killer? In Jeffery Dahmer's case, the answers are not easy to pinpoint. We'd like to think of serial killers as fully-formed maniacs, born out of some hellish vacuum. It's not comfortable to imagine these people as they were as children. It humanizes them too much.   

What sets My Friend Dahmer apart from other biographical films about serial killers, is the uncomfortable relatability of its protagonist. In many ways, Dahmer had a typical suburban upbringing of the time. Sure, his mother and father argued a lot, and his mother suffered from various mood issues, but there seems to be little there that would induce a young man to murder and dismember other young men. 

Director Meyers doesn't keep Jeff at a distance from the audience. While most films with similar subject matter present their killers with a psychotic gleam in the eye and creepy demeanor, My Friend Dahmer provides us with no such distancing techniques. We the audience have nothing to hide behind--no comforting barrier from which to crouch and whisper, "oh, thank God I'm not a creep like that!". 

The Dahmer of the film is no frothing, twitchy eyed, stalker, but rather an unassuming highschooler. He is less of a social outcast than he is simply disassociated from the world around him. He spends his evenings hunting for roadkill that he can take home to his special shed and dissolve in jars of acid. He isn't necessarily shy about his bizarre hobby. When two peers express curiosity about Jeff's roadkill collecting, he takes them back to the shed and provides a demonstration. They express great disgust, proclaiming "You're such a freak Dahmer!" as they flee the little shack of horrors.   

"The boy who didn't belong." Jeff's face was censored from the highschool yearbook.

The real Dahmer took an interest early on in animals and bones. His father, Lionel Dahmer, a chemist, jumped at the opportunity to encourage his son's curiosity. He built him the shed out in the woods behind their home and instructed him on how to remove the skin from deceased animals in order to study the skeletal structures. In the film, when Jeff persists with the hobby instead of going out and finding friends, Lionel dismantles the shed and demands that his teenage son take more of an interest in social life.

Meyers' screenplay is brilliant in its reserve. Here we find no blood splatters or scenes of gory, gratuitous violence. Rather we see Jeff as his peer group saw him at the time--quiet and probably depressed. While the film takes place in the year before Jeff's first killing, it nonetheless could have depicted the graphic fantasies that he'd been having since age 14. As it is in the film, we see only one brief scene where Jeff imagines lying down on a bed with a corpse.

The film also has touches of humor; no simple task to pull off when dealing with such weighty themes. When the local stoner offers to sell Jeff the drug of his choice, he asks, "what do you do?" Jeff responds with, "I collect roadkill, I'm trying to quit." Moments like these offer a brief respite amidst the pervasive gloom of the story. 

By keeping his film understated, Meyer's heightens its tension. The film throbs with the unspoken and terrible truth of what Jeff is thinking and what he is destined to become. Actor Ross Lynch, a former Disney Channel star cast against type, plays Jeff with a deliberate subtlety that leaves a definite impression. He looks eerily like the real Jeff. Walking with an odd, hunched over gait, Lynch's Dahmer ambles down the halls of his school, and stalks the county roads, all with the same muted, dull expression. Only occasionally and briefly, does Lynch allow us to see the deep pain behind Jeff's eyes. The theme of disassociation is an important one to the film, and the element that most struck home with me. 

Actor Ross Lynch as Dahmer on the left. The real Jeff on the right.

Upon reaching puberty, the real Dahmer realized he was gay, but also began to be plagued with violent sexual fantasies involving necrophilia and dismemberment. The teenage Jeff began drinking heavily, presumably to dull these terrible thoughts. His friend Derf recalls Jeff stumbling down the corridors of the school and showing up to class heavily inebriated. The adults pretended not to notice and did nothing. Consequently, Jeff never received the help he needed. One hopes that today, a kid like Dahmer would be noticed and given treatment. But in the wake of yet another school shooting, it seems our society remains largely blind to the troubled among us.       

Visually, My Friend Dahmer is soaked in atmosphere. I noticed early on in the film that Dahmer's house, shed, and the roads he trudges down, seemed charged with a weight that belied typical film sets and locations. Sure enough, upon looking it up, I discovered that the film was shot on location in Bath, Ohio, where Dahmer spent his childhood and teenage years. The house featured in the film was Dahmer's real family home, in which he committed his first murder. The dissecting shed in the film is a replica built over the spot of the original. And the roads seen in the film are the very roads the real Jeff haunted as a teen. 

Doesn't get more authentic than that!

If you're at all interested in True Crime, make sure to check out My Friend Dahmer. It is a quiet but powerful film with something to say.  

*Jeffery Dahmer would go on to murder 17 young men before being apprehended in 1990. In 1994, Jeff was attacked and beaten to death by a fellow prison inmate.   

Another Favorite

The Second Coming (Yeats)

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

A Few Favorites

Tongue firmly in cheek!

Spring!

"I believe in process. I believe in four seasons. I believe that winter's tough, but spring's coming. I believe that there's a growing season. And I think that you realize that in life, you grow. You get better."

The guy who wrote/said that quote is a Republican lobbyist and career politician. Quite the nauseating combination I must say. But I like this moment of rare homespun clarity on his part.

I also like springtime.

Here it is only February 12, and I am hoping against hope for an early spring. Why? I suppose I could write something syrupy and saccharine about new beginnings, so I think I'll go ahead and do just that.

Yes, spring is about new beginnings and rebirth. And that sounds very attractive to me right about now. On a sheer practical level, I'm quite tired of the cold, as my toes have been frozen since around mid-December. Granted, this has been a bit of a bipolar winter all around--Mother Nature has adopted the general insanity of our times. Nevertheless, the bursts of teasing warmth have not truly succeeded in thawing my lower extremities. And yes, I double up my socks and my (admittedly rancid) slippers have been glued to my feet for three months now. 

Anyhoo, there is also the desire for a new beginning in the mystical/emotional sense--an itching to re-center and flush out personal offal. Spring is the natural period in which to engage in this process. Winter is at best a time of cozy reflection and at worst a hellish period of festering animosities and frostbit toes. But the first whiff of springtime air reminds people like me that there is more to life than pensive naval gazing.   

As a culture and society, we have grown largely tone deaf to the rhythms of the natural world. The constant drone of modern life has put us on a treadmill of mindless routines the whole year round. Seasons are marked by holidays, vacation times, and school functions, rather than the changing face of nature, culminating in the equinoxes and solstices. We were once an integral part of this natural cycle; of the new birth and growth of spring, of the labor of summer, the rewards of autumn, and the quiet death of winter. 

In a spirit sense, we are as much a part of this rhythmic dance as ever before, yet we have dulled this deep and mystical connectedness through an ascendance of the material and the greed that goes with it. Nature gives us an opportunity to maintain both physical and mental balance through following her rhythms. Yet we stubbornly cling to our own clumsy methods of self help. 

But this year, I'm taking the cue from the natural world and indulging in everything spring has to offer. So it can't arrive soon enough. Here's to rebirth and new growth!