Yesterday I stood in line to get good seats for The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King and it was completely worth the wait. Tremendous vistas lend timeless grandeur to every scene, and I could feel my mind's eye recognize the land that Tolkien described and I traveled to in my imagination in the final chapter of the tale of the Ring. Minas Tirith stands strong like the bones of mountains, while Minas Morgul and the Vale glow with sickness and insane despair.
Last night I watched Whale Rider on DVD and I really loved it. It was adapted from a novel about a Maori girl named Paikea in New Zealand whose tribal community is disintegrating due to the encroachment of modern society and the lack of leadership from her harsh grandfather who is a chief without a male heir. Interweaving traditional Maori art and culture, breathtaking views of the New Zealand coast, and a mystical story about grabbing your destiny and never letting go, Whale Rider is a meaningful and beautiful film that deserves viewing.
Indie street musician Wesley Willis has died after years of struggling with schizophrenia, homelessness, and finally chronic myelogenous leukemia. I’ll never forget when my friend pogopogo introduced me to “Cut the Mullet” and the rest of his unique repertoire.
Before the invasion of Iraq and the Oscars, I went to a theater to view Martin Scorsese's film, "Gangs of New York." Set in tumultuous New York City in the mid-1800's, the opening scene chronicles a battle between an Irish immigrant group known as the Dead Rabbits, led by Priest Vallon (Liam Neeson), and the pre-existing Anglo group calling themselves Native Americans, led by Bill the Butcher (Daniel Day-Lewis). The Priest consecrates his ragtag army as they prepare their crude homespun weapons, and leads them out of their slum caves and into the bright crisp wintry solitude of an intersection in Five Points.