Gran Torino: A Review

"Get me another beer, Dragon Lady...this one's empty."

Clint Eastwood is, as a recent article dubbed him, America's director.
When he goes, it will be the end of an era that is already drawing nigh with the passings earlier this year of Charleton Heston and Paul Newman. Though a handful of the films Eastwood has directed are poor products (Flags of our Fathers), his pantheon remains one of the most lauded and memorable in recent American cinematic history. On top of this achievement is the fact that, before he was a director, he was an actor of such unforgettable magnitude that the Duke was proud to call him a successor. For many years now, Eastwood has combined both his skills as an actor with his deftness behind the camera (even chipping in with scoring) to incredible, and award winning results.
Gran Torino, we are told, is the final film in which we will see Eastwood the actor, and it is an almost unbearable shame. A shame because no one will be able to replace him. A shame because if he was judged simply by his performance in Gran Torino alone, he would no doubt still be considered one of the greatest actors in history.
The film Gran Torino has a fairly simple plot, one that will be almost immediately recognizable for its genre tropes. In this way, the movie feels comfortable like a classic western, or a buddy picture. The title of course refers to Eastwood's character's treasured automobile, and the whole picture unfolds in nearly the same three locations. However, Gran Torino is far from generic and after the tropes are in place, an amazingly complex thematic mix of life/death, forgiveness, and judgement are woven together over 116 minutes through Eastwood's character and his relationships with the immigrant Ethnic Asians in his neighborhood.

Eastwood's Walt Kowalski is an old, retired Ford plant worker who served three years in the Korean war. He is mean, cantankerous, and racist. When he is thrown into the affairs of the Asians who live next door you can already imagine that he will "learn a lesson" and "evolve." Yet, nothing so trite takes place. Instead there is a thorough development of Walt's character that is believable in every beat thanks to Eastwood's portrayal.
To a degree, Walt does change like you'd expect from racist to accepting, from mean to kind, as he bonds with the Chinamen (actually some ethnic group called Hmong) but that change isn't what the story is about necessarily, and rather a symptom of the real growth taking place inside the character...a spiritual growth.

The story is at it's heart about how Walt comes to terms with the sins of his life and how to become at peace and understand the forgiveness of Christ (as a Catholic), and still find justice in the real world. One of the central relationships in the film is that of Walt and the 27 year-old priest from his parish, and it unfolds into one of the most realistic portrayals of the struggles of the faithful in a harsh and unforgiving world.
To me, Gran Torino was one of the most "Christian" films I have ever seen, and to elaborate too much on this claim would be to ruin some of the films more surprisingly moments. However, it is suffice to say that the true story of the film is how Walt finds salvation, in seemingly every aspect of the word. To say that Gran Torino is a "Christian" film will come as shock to any who can't get past the language (like my parents), because the other thing that can be said about the movie is it utilizes some of the most creative applications of cussing I have ever heard. Many of Walt's lines are punctuated by profanity, but to decidedly powerful effect (both in terms of intensity, and in humor.)

Beyond the story, the look and direction of the film are without question the work of a master of the craft. Without being stylishly showy, Eastwood still managed to make me mutter "wow" under my breath with his use of the camera. Gran Torino is at once classical and modern, with a steady and sure pace of editing that focuses your attention of the characters and enhances the story (as good cinematography and editing should).

See this movie, because it is entertaining and thought provoking. See this movie because it is both life-affirming and uplifting. See this movie because Clint Eastwood's Swan Song is an unforgettably ending to an even more unforgettable career. See this movie because Clint's character says, "zipperhead, slope, beaner, super spade, swamp rat, spooks," and all kinds of other hilarious politically incorrect things. See this movie because I said so.

War, its Good TV

It is a hard world out there, and no matter what your kindergarten teacher told you, dreams don't come true and you don't get what you wish for when you blow out those candles on your birthday cake. At least, that is the general rule of thumb, because today one of my dreams came true.
In the most astoundingly brilliant move of the year, Israel has not only declared all out war on Hamas, but has decided to film the whole thing and put it on a specially created Youtube channel!
We can now watch the children of God as they wage righteous war on their distant, considerably less amicable, cousins. From the Jerusalem Post comes THIS STORY, where the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) concedes that in their 2006 "Second Lebanon War" (did anyone know it was called that?) they failed to realize the power of the media in influencing the outcome of the conflict. We Americans have been painfully aware of the media's military power since Vietnam, and it seems a little silly that the Israelis didn't learn from our mistakes (a whole generation of people still know nothing about the Vietnam war beyond My Lai, napalmed children, and Platoon.) Part of the problem with Israel's struggle against Palestine and the rest of the Arab world has been the way the Muslims have been able to manipulate public world opinion through images of children tossing rocks at tanks, or through reports of rocket strikes that kill twenty women and children who were strategically placed as shields within key military targets.
Israel has, finally, found a solution: the internets.

"The blogosphere and new media are another war zone," said IDF Foreign Press Branch head Maj. Avital Leibovich. "We have to be relevant there."

Earlier this week the IDF proved to the international community the validity of this strategy by releasing a video that depicts Israeli missiles taking out a Hamas rocket launcher that is purposefully nestled in the center of a heavily populated residential area. Thanks to the surgical precision of the (US provided) Israeli military technology, the rockets were taken out without endangering "innocent" civilians, and thanks to the internets the world can see what total douche bags the Hamas terrorists are.
There is certainly a discussion to be had about the ethics/morality involved in turning war footage into tidbits of internet entertainment, but I believe America as a nation has already been desensitised to the prospect by a decade of cable news network "info-tainment."

The link to the Youtube Channel is HERE.
Below is a taste. Enjoy the future:

Friday Batman

Christmas is over, and maybe some of you got The Dark Knight on DVD/Bluray. For those of you who didn't, fear not, as you can always get your Batman fix here on Fridays. Watch below as Adam West's "Batman" fights off the Rouges Gallery on a submarine using a cat and a sword.


Now watch it again. Yes, he used a cat as a weapon. Batman has no limits.

Travel Time

As promised earlier, here is the time lapse video we shot on the drive back from being Cannucked.

Clubbin'

For Andrew:

Friday Batman

A Very Batman Christmas to you all!

A Kick in the Head

According to an absurdly awesome story out of Colorado (an oxymoron, I know) a three-day old baby was delivered and immediately operated on because an ultrasound showed what appeared to be a tumor growing in the infants brain. To quote our good friend Detective John Kimble,
"It's not a tumor!"
It is in fact, a foot. Yes, a foot. Look it:

That is a foot sticking out of a baby's brain.

The crazy thing is, there was some other junk in the kid's brain along with the foot, to include partial formed intestines. Read the whole, awesome story HERE.
P.S., there is video!

Cannucked---Part 3

(Parts One Here, Part Two Here)

We were straight profiled at the border, and ole Johnny Cannuck sent us over to immigration. It needs to be noted however that Brandon and Jared both answered "no" when asked if they'd passed through Canadian immigration before even though they had not a full two months before flown into Toronto.
"I thought we just went through customs." Brandon innocently whined as I berated him for his unfortunate lack in travel experience outside of the greater Conyers, Georgia metropolitan area.
Thus we went through the same drill again I had passed through in September when driving the film gear across....at the exact same location. This time however we were forced to wait in the cold while a female Mountie took out my personal luggage to run through an X-Ray. When she pulled my bags out to do this, she disrupted the delicate packing balance causing other bags to spill out onto the ground. I tried to keep from getting upset, having to remind myself of the Canadian policy of giving important jobs to mentally retarded people.
After Daisy Do-wrong shoved our stuff haphazardly back into the van, we were directed into the immigration office where we encountered, as our producer ole Greasy would later call him,
"That Dudley Do-Right Mother F***Ker."
He was a nice enough guy, but in that utterly incompetent way that caused him to make us sit in the office for half an hour while he fiddled away on the computer. My guess, to this day, is that he discovered The Free-Lancer and could only read a few words. In all likelihood he saw "Canada", "Sucks", and "Terrorist" somewhere in the posts and decided there and then that he was having none of it. Whatever the case may be, after an interminable wait he informed us that without work permits we wouldn't be able to enter Canada. No amount of protest or reasoning could dissuade him because like all robots he was programmed to do one thing, and he could not deviate from his directive. Thus we were forced to "voluntarily" leave Canada and return across the bridge to Port Huron, Michigan.

We called Ole Greasy, and he was understandably upset at the development. He babbled on about how he would charter a plane to get the equipment in and send us across at Detroit (the American Border Guard on our side warned us not to try to reenter at Detroit because that would be considered "port shopping" and would lead to criminal charges. Go figure.) Ole Greasy even managed to get hold of the Canadian border patrol by phone using the drug snitch line, but he couldn't get us and the equipment across, and since we were no good to anybody without the cameras and such it was a no-go. We had been completely Cannucked over.

We were stuck for the night in Michigan, with our plans foiled by the Hosers on the border. The next morning we escaped without being snowed in, but the drive back was hellacious to say the least. Brandon and I spent the next night in Chicago where I ate a surprisingly decent meal of Shrimp and Grits.

Our troubles were not over however, as we had a ridiculous circus with Budget Rental when the next morning our electronic key for the van decided to quit working. We had hoped to head back to Atlanta at 9 in the morning, but ended up waiting until 2 for a new, more lame (not Satellite Radio), van to be brought to us at the hotel.
We finally made it back to Atlanta around 3 in the morning four days after setting out, the trip itself being an utter failure. We drove around in snow storms, got Cannucked at the border, and returned to the blessed South with nothing to show for it but some money (we still got paid at least) and a timelapse video we took of the drive from Chicago to Atlanta which I will post later.
The moral of the story? Canada sucks.

JFM Internets Update

Earlier on this blog I brought it to your attention that I located on of my more obscure masterpieces on a random Japanese website. That was odd, but no more odd then discovering that same video posted on the message board of a car website.
Observe the Phenomenon HERE.

His Red Right (Three Dimensional) Hand

I am still pissed that somebody is already making Paradise Lost into a movie. I mean, come on, who more perfect to adapt John Milton's seminal work then John Milton? Of course, Hollywood doesn't know about me yet so I can't be too surprised that they turned to someone else. I just wish they weren't so impatient in LA, because now my version is going to be seen as a remake (whenever I finally get to the top.)

Anyway, the film is looking to be shot in 3D, which is interesting. Rotten Tomatoes has an article up where they interview the directors (the guy who made The Exorcism of Emily Rose and *cringe* the Day the Earth Stood Still remake.)

Check it out HERE.

Friday Batman

I assume that most of you who read The Free-Lancer are poor and don't have a Blueray player. You probably, like me, wish you did and you probably, like me, wish you had it almost exclusively to watch The Dark Knight. Even though we don't have Blueray, this is still cool:

Cannucked---Part 2

(For Part One see HERE.)

One of the utterly ridiculous facets of the Chicagoland area is the insane amount of tolls you must pass through to get from one side to the other. Even worse is how, once you are on a toll road, you must pay to leave and return. When Brandon and I hit the Skyway heading west towards the suburb of Elgin (where the office is) we were seven dollars richer then when we finally made it to our hotel. A preview of how America will operate under the Obama presidency? Perhaps.

On Friday morning we woke up early and moved out smartly for the Wicker Park district of Chicago where the editor/associate producer Jared lives. To get to his apartment we had to drive through Little Puerto Rico, literally passing under a giant metal representation of the Puerto Rican flag as we did. Puertoricanos were everywhere and all the billboards and storefronts were in Spanish. In random nooks and crannies of the depressingly snow covered alleyways were cardboard shrines filled with candles lit to Our Lady of Guadalupe. For a while, I totally forgot I was in America. This would unfortunately prove to be the most foreign part of the trip.

When we had picked up Jared, we swung out East through Chicago and began the long, horrible, awful, unforgiving, boring, snowy, drive across Michigan. In previous posts I may have postulated that Indiana is the most worthlessly terrible state in the US, however I must amend my opinion to say that such is only true during the warmer, corn-filled seasons. In the winter, by far, Michigan is the state where hell opens up and releases its horrors. We made it through that frozen Hades however, and arrived just before nightfall in Port Huron where we crossed the bridge to Canada and proceeded to drive through the border check.

Brandon was nervous about the rental van, and it showed. When the Candadian Border Patrol asked for the rental agreement, Ole Poopy Pants nearly went literal with his nickname. However, the Mountie was fooled (of course) by the photoshopped agreement and we passed his scrutiny unscathed. Then things went wrong. No doubt thanks to Brandon's nervousness, our beards, and Jared's crazy-eyes, we were directed to imigartion for further inspection.
Profiled, I tell you. We were straight, no bones about it, profiled.
Our troubles were just beginning.....

To be continued....

400 Years of Excellence

My great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great Uncle turned 400 on Tuesday and I was remiss in not celebrating. Happy Birthday!
Here is a very famous poem by my namesake:
On His Blindness

 When I consider how my light is spent
    Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
    And that one talent which is death to hide
    Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
    My true account, lest he returning chide,
    "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
    I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
   Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
   And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
   They also serve who only stand and wait."

Late Justice is Still Justice

TV on the Internet

Taking a break from my Cannuck story for a quick aside....
You all know that I am a huge advocate of the internets and TV/movies streamed and/or downloaded from said internets. That is why I rock the Hulu sidebar, because if you don't Hulu then you're not living. Well, some insightful comedian named Jay Black slapped up a great open letter to the TV industry over on TVsquad.com. It is both insightful and hilarious in its advocacy of embracing piracy (something we here at The Free-Lancer also support.)

Read the Full Article Here.

Cannucked---Part 1

Over four days beginning on Thursday morning and ending at 3am on Monday, I drove around the United States in a van. I was supposed to go to Toronto.
This is the story of how I got Cannucked.

Things went bad from the get-go, and only really got worse. Brandon Thompson, DP and Steadi-cam operator extraordinaire, was in charge of renting the van for our trip.
He, however, made the mistake of telling the rental company that we were bound for Canada. The woman at Budget heard that and promptly gave him an "oh no you didn't" denial. Brandon, feeling awfully stupid, picked me up that next morning and we tried again at another Budget. We changed our story ("Going to Chicago, sir") but unfortunately ole Poopy Pants (that's Brandon) had been flagged in the system. I smooth talked the attendant and got us the van, but the rental agreement had a large warning on the document that read "Strongly Advised Cannot Go To Canada." To remedy this unfortunate situation, Brandon and I used modern technology to our advantage, i.e. photoshop. With our forged copy of the rental agreement in hand, we set out on an 11 hour drive through rain, fog, sleet, and finally snow across the western reaches of the Southern States and through the Devil's backyard of Indiana into Obamaland (Chicago.)

Chicago was frozen solid and the minute we stepped out of the van upon arrival we realized that Yankees must be the stupidest people in the world. In our hotel we met up with the producer, Ole Greasy, and learned the specifics of our task. The next morning we were to pick up the editor, Jared, and drive up across the border at Port Huron, Michigan similar to the last trip I made in September (Jared and Brandon got to fly last time.) Once in Toronto we would film a conference being held by the Canadian Auto Workers union (CAW) wherein the Trotskyites would be screening a dedication film we produced earlier on the life of a Canadian priest who died while advocating a Clergy union. Later we would pick up some interviews, but the main gig was Saturday morning at nine. We were expected to arrive in Toronto sometime the prior evening.
If only things had been that simple.....

To be Continued...

The Story of the Old Canadian Man

My good friend and travel companion, Chris Craft, and I were in downtown Savannah on the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving. We were walking the cobbled stones of River Street when we learned that Harry O'Donaghue was playing a set at Kevin Barry's Pub and decided to step inside to have a listen. The place was cozy, and there were very few people there for a holiday week, but that suited me just fine. Harry was on the stage with his guitar singing away in his mellow Dublin brogue to the tune of "The Wild Rover." Chris and I clapped along on with the chorus, and enjoyed the warmth of the occasion.

After the song, Harry took a small break and a considerably old looking gentleman sat down next to us to have a chat with the waitress on duty. I couldn't help but over hear the Old Man's slight accent and the last part of his conversation wherein the Old Man mentioned that he was amazed that you could smoke cigarettes indoors in America. Out of curiosity I leaned over and asked,
"Where is it that you are from, if you don't mind me asking?"
The Old Man smiled at me and said,
"Ontario."
"Oh yeah? I was just up there a little while ago. All over, from Toronto to the Lake Huron coast. I actually might be going back next week."
"Oh don't do that. Stay the hell out of Toronto. It's bloody cold and covered in six feet of snow!"
We got to talking more, and I learned that he was originally from England and that I had passed quite close to where he lived in Ontario during my travels. When asked why he was in Savannah he told us for the past few years he had come on holiday.
"For years we went to Florida. Then one day we were down there and I realized....Florida sucks!"
He told us he found Savannah charming and the people genuine. Then we somehow got on the subject of Capones, a local billards joint, and he mentioned that he enjoyed playing pool in a place where he didn't have to worry about being stabbed.
"Is that a big concern in Canada?" I asked, half joking.
He sat up and nodded vigorously.
"Oh yes, very much. Have you never been stabbed then?"
I laughed and shook my head, saying no, of course not.
"What? You've never been stabbed?" He then burst into laughter. "I can't believe it! You've never been stabbed!"
I was laughing now, at the sheer ridiculousness of this Old Man. I pointed out that Chris had never been stabbed either. He stared at us, his eyes and mouth wide in disbelief. He then shook his head and laughed even harder.
"I'm going to go back in there and tell my mates that you lot have never been stabbed, and they're not going to believe it!"
Just then his wife came over and he grabbed her by the shoulder.
"Honey, these boys tell me they've never been stabbed! Can you believe it!"
She joined him laughing and said,
"You're missing out."
"Never been stabbed! Unbelievable!"
At that point Harry returned to playing and the Old Man and his wife bid us adieu and headed on to their next destination. We shook hands and as we parted I promised to work on getting stabbed.

Canadiagain

Supposedly I will be driving back up through those awful non-Southern states to Toronto Canada to crew once more on the documentary that sent me there back in September. I say supposedly because as it stands right now (at 3 o'clock Wednesday afternoon, December 3rd) I have yet to hear back from the producer as to the exact details surrounding my departure and travel other than I am supposed to leave tomorrow with the DP, Brandon, in a van.
Dear Readers, there is a reason that despite being The Free-Lancer I do not actively seek work as a freelancer in the entertainment industry. All the "ifyness" and last minute chicanery gets to me, especially when I have no personal stake in the project at hand other than experience and money. However, the last trip paid well, the people I worked with are good people, and frankly I need the cash.

Indeed, the entire prospect of driving back through Indiana is so dreadful that I would almost be relieved to not be working on the shoot. Yet, once again, I need the cash. In the event that I do leave tomorrow for the dark horizons of Wanna-Be America, I will blog away my misery with more tales of Canadian foppery and horror stories of middle American corn encounters.

Oh Happy Day....Sort of

Thanks to the efforts (I believe) of voters who previously supported the Libertarian Candidate Buckley casting their lot for Saxby Chamblis, the Republicans have secured a vital seat in the senate.

I don't think I need to preach to the choir about the importance of this runoff. Thank you to all of those who I encouraged to vote Libertarian, and did, who now voted for Chamblis. Mayhaps one good day we can vote for a man who truly represents our principles.....JFM 2016!

The Future

There was once a commercial for Comcast featuring Mark Hamill (of Luke Skywalker fame of course) wherein he proceeds to lecture a group of people on his expertise in "The Future." Unfortunately I cannot find a copy of that commercial online, so I will move on.

I trust everyone had a great time celebrating Thanksgiving, and be assured that I did as well. Now, for a few weeks anyway, the Holiday season takes a break and I return to my duties. I've been away from the internets for a few days, and as such have a great deal of "catching up" to accomplish. There are many blogs to read, Cracked articles to peruse, lolcats to chuckle at, news to digest, etc. As I catch up, I will post here on significant finds and/or issues that come to bear as well as jot down some interesting stories I accumulated over my absence. In other words, stay tuned 'cause stuff is comin' down the pipe.

Also, I will know later today (God willing) whether or not I will be bound again for the frozen North to resume work on the documentary "Forsaken." As you long time readers will recall, twas this very documentary that spurred my long drive to Canada wherein I began my blogging as The Free-Lancer. Updates will follow should they arise.
In the mean time, here is a funny picture followed by a poem:

JABBERWOCKY

Lewis Carroll

(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.