TOUCH OF EVIL: That Feels So Right

Orson Welles’s, 1958 international noir Touch of Evil can proudly join my theoretical list of under-appreciated and under-viewed classics. It’s thankfully brisker, more red blooded and wholly more entertaining than Welles’s over-analyzed, dreary masterpiece, Citizen Kane.

In Touch of Evil, Charlton Heston plays a Mexican narcotics agent who becomes involved with a car-bombing incident, initially unrelated to his high-profile international drug lord court case. In case you read that too fast, yes, Charlton Heston plays a Mexican. Get over it. The man played a Jewish Egyptian in The Ten Commandments and he played “Good Actor” in Wayne’s World 2 (zing!). Seriously, he gives a relatively un-distracting lead performance for two-thirds of the movie. Everything kind of reaches a, highly enjoyable, surreal moment when Heston beats up five or six Mexican teenagers while shouting, “Donde esta mi espousa!?!” This might possibly be my favorite “Heston Moment” outside of Planet of the Apes.

Impressively, Heston’s performance is actually second chair to Orson Welles himself. Possibly believing no one can play a belligerent fat man like he, Welles heroically directs the eloquent film while filling the screen with a very un-eloquent American chief of police. Welles’s character (Quinlan) is a mix of Police Chief Wiggum and Vice President Dick Cheney. Leonard Dicaprio wishes he could play a large, quasi-moral authority like this. With Welles, there is no pretension, just pragmatism.

Orson Welles, hopefully wearing makeup and a fat suit, takes up enough room to warrant shots from aerial view, but his size is just another weapon in his arsenal of intimidation. Quinlan’s dogmatic investigations earn the respect of colleagues and fear of criminals; and just that Quinlan distresses society’s enemies is enough for law abiders to appreciate, if not applaud, the big guy. Such a sentiment resurrects the disgusting, sarcastic, former campaign quip, “Who would the terrorists vote for?”

Twice the cop of Sonny Crockett...and 1.5 times the man of a later Don Johnson.

To a scene, Quinlan dominates the pacing, energy and direction of all involved and through this power achieves even more admiration. Each character accepts the mindset that if you can’t stop a runaway truck you might as well get out of the way. For those in power, society is always on the verge of collapsing. If it’s not threats from outside, it’s threats from inside. The word “safe” could only be uttered as a whisper throughout American history and has been all but removed from the nation’s lexicon since the 1950s. I think this is why we are so ready to accept Quinlan election after election. Sure, rounding up innocent people is unfortunate if by accident and wrong if on purpose; but rounding up people who we know are guilty? Why, that’s an imperative.

Despite unintelligible swearing, stumbling around and chronic candy bar-munching, Quinlan’s laser wit and vengeful obsessions prove dangerous to peripheral characters, yet inspiring to the following decades of (fictional) cops who disregard any philosophical line separating legality, as they “know what’s right.”

The antagonist to these shameful American acceptances is Miguel Vargas (Heston). Despite being a Mexican government official, Vargas has not a trace of any “foreign” accent--no doubt more of an attempt to gain (American) audience sympathy than an accusation of incompetent acting on the part of Heston. To Americanize Vargas even more, he has Janet Leigh as a wife, goes by the name “Michael” and voices no real interest in futbol. Heston, by way of being Heston, demands the audience’s appreciation yet can’t shake off the image of an annoying ACLU lawyer. To hell with your delicate sensibilities, we sneer at Vargas, Quinlan gets results and Quinlan gets the bad guys. In less then three hundred years, America has molded national principles from enlightenment to efficiency. Anymore it seems pragmatism is patriotism. Has democracy failed those who are unhappy? No, the unhappy have failed the test of democracy.

This movie was released five years before the arrest of Ernesto Miranda, making the whole cinematic discussion uncommonly prophetic. As that real-life story goes, Miranda confessed to raping an 18-year-old but was unaware of his rights to have a lawyer during the resulting interrogation. Any speculation that Miranda “probably” raped somebody was muted by his own rights violation--which absolutely outraged the (arguably existent) Silent Majority. The outrage was short-lived as Miranda was convicted without his confession, released in 1972 and killed in a bar fight four years later. A suspect was picked up for the murder, was read his Miranda rights, declined to give a statement and was released. The Miranda murder case was closed without a conviction. Similarly, Quinlan’s ultimate defense for abuses of power rests in the fact that his assumptions are always correct. For--in the land of the free--there is nothing wrong with jailing criminals, fair trial or no.

While Heston smooths over (or at least distorts) any accusations of racism, Internet-educated audiences will be more baffled by the film’s relationship with marijuana. The apparent paranoia in 1958 of marijuana is used as a staggeringly weak plot-device to “knock out” Janet Leigh, transport her and keep her incapacitated for the better part of two days. Discussion of legality aside, evidently we all need to set some rules about marijuana use in films. Personal history shows me that ol’ Mary Jane doesn’t do much more than slow people down and explain the continued existence of Wendy’s chicken nuggets--but that's all beside the point. Regarding the film’s convoluted and panic-pandering depiction, there is no answer to how the leather jacket-wearing Mexican youths forced Leigh to get higher than James Franco piloting a blimp.

With a nod to technical analysis, Welles stages scenes and camera shots with a direct stylization rarely seen outside—or ever missing from—the film’s noir genre. Perhaps the most masterful decision is the opening shot of the film wherein a bomb is placed in a car’s trunk. For nearly four minutes, and in one continuous shot, audiences watch the car drive around a small border town. The intensity is stretched with such focus and grace that Johhny Q Moviegoer won’t even notice why the scene is as suspenseful as it is. For a man with a history in radio entertainment, Welles’s understanding of cinema had to be instinctual to a point that’s simply not possible anymore.

At best, it’s hard to say Touch of Evil is underrated; at worst, it’s incorrect. Film scholars, critics, students and snobs repeatedly report the film as a classic, when they’ve seen it. So maybe it’s not underrated, but rather—in the vein of Singin’ in the Rain and Sullivan’s Travels—is a genuine piece of entertainment dismissed by the average antecedent generations. Strange to think what would happen if more films of equal deserving were launched back into theaters; and not just unnecessary re-releases of literally the most-seen movies of all-time: Titanic, Avatar, E.T., Star Wars (yet again!) and so on.

The Brownsville Episode: When Roosevelt Failed Us

Everyone’s been there. Your favorite singer wrote a bad song, your politician extended the Patriot Act, your school’s team blew chunks during the big game against an obviously inferior team. “Yeah,” we mumble, “but…” But nothing; x-factors be damned, we bet on the wrong horse and we can’t admit it. We need to take the blows to our ego and move on. And I’m going to start now by resurrecting a moral crime in U.S. history that has to be the biggest, bloody, blotch on my favorite president’s legacy. I’m talking about Theodore Roosevelt and the Brownsville Episode.

The Brownsville Episode was a series of bloated and sloppy actions fueled by racist paranoia, baseless logic and bruised egos—and considering the connotations, may have been the origins for the Cleveland NFL team.

“Yeah, sure Nick, kick 'em while they're down."

In 1906, Theodore Roosevelt was “the Man” in a way few American presidents have ever had the fortune of being. Perhaps few presidents had the stones to act as furiously unilateral as T.R.—but there I go again, defending the man. In another light, T.R. was an American dictator who only eventually left office because the country was beginning to bore him. Really, though, I think most Americans would accept, or even love, a dictator so long as the dictator’s views were in line with his or her own. Democracy is only fun if you’re on the winning side every time. So anyway, Roosevelt is rolling with the creation of the FDA—amidst accusations of socialism—when a bar brawl in Brownsville, Texas captures the nation’s attention.

Reportedly, one night some white people in the town insulted some black soldiers. In retaliation, 16-20 soldiers “attacked townspeople” and fired their guns (killing one bartender). That no real evidence existed to connect any African-American soldiers to any incident of violence was disregard as a minor technicality. In fact, there was no immediate trial or hearing and the (white) commanders at the nearby Fort Brown affirmed that all soldiers were in their barracks on the night in question. But the very notion that U.S. soldiers would attack American civilians was so outrageous that action was cried for, and action was carried out.

Roosevelt demanded the guilty soldiers confess. Because no soldier confessed to the crime nor turned in any other soldier, Roosevelt declared they had all proven themselves guilty. Wildly claiming there was a “conspiracy of silence,” the President dishonorably discharged all 167 black men in the company. Many of the soldiers had served for their entire lives, some over 20 years, and were now all denied back pay, pensions, allowances and other benefits expected at the time of service.

Roosevelt’s hammer of the presidency was as commended as it was criticized—again resurrecting the argument that courage is the victor of controversy. In this case, though, T.R.’s disinterest in self-examination proved egotistical. Senator Joseph Foraker started a congressional investigation that uncovered many of the facts we know today, including the testimony of the commanding officers, the inability of the townspeople (including the mayor) to reasonably describe any of the accused attackers, planted bullet casings and such. In response, Roosevelt had the Treasury Department (an arm of the Executive Branch) launch its own investigation—which included private detectives. This new investigation ran around Brownsville planting more fake evidence, bribing people, threatening people, destroying real evidence and just generally acting like jerks until Roosevelt felt his point had been made.

Roosevelt went on to talk about race relations in America, though always in the hypothetical. “Lynching could tear apart civilization,” he’d say…“however,” he’d continue, “black citizens shouldn’t protect black criminals,” though there was definitively no black conspiracy. And while T.R. wanted African-Americans to assist in the arrests of criminals, he apparently didn’t care that they were still excluded from serving as members of a jury or even as police officers. In response to a specific lynching, Roosevelt continued his baffling distance, saying “the hideous crime of rape” is abominable, and punishment “may follow immediately upon the heels of the offense.” What?

It’s difficult to just say Roosevelt may have been a racist president, and if the presidents were ranked by racism he wouldn’t even crack the top ten (hell, he wouldn't even be in the top 3 on Mount Rushmore). His first civilian guest to the White House was Booker T. Washington--which brought on a slew of death threats just weeks after the assassination of President McKinley. T.R., to his end, reveled in his own fantasies of being attacked by would-be assassins and having the nation cheer him on as he beat the hypothetical villain(s) into a bloody clam chowder.

In a broad sense, Roosevelt also did a lot of good for global understanding. He, and other world leaders, put pressure on Belgium to cease its genocidal exploitation of the Congo. And then after leaving office, Roosevelt joined a scientific excursion to Africa with the express purpose of retrieving samples of “exotic” flora and fauna. And if a flora or fauna needed to get shot, well, that’s where ol’ T.R. came in. His hunting party killed over 500 animals, including 17 lions, 11 elephants, 9 white rhinos, 7 cheetahs (and a partridge in a pear tree!). A filmmaker named Cherry Kearton filmed the entire trip and defended it all as great entertainment, allowing Americans to “visit” Africa from the comfort of a movie theater…also, Americans got to pretend they were Theodore Roosevelt.

The 1910 documentary was given the chill-inducing title of “Roosevelt in Africa,” and inspired the whole industry of travel filmmaking. More than that, Roosevelt’s radical importation of hundreds of (usually) dead animals allowed Americans to see Africa as a real place and not just a mythological realm filled with prehistoric monsters that may or may not have been manifestations of Satan’s demons—as was the common sentiment at the time.

Oh great, I just defended my support for Roosevelt again. Whoops.

In 1972, the United States Army declared that the soldiers involved in Brownsville Episode would have their discharges be declared honorable. The surviving soldier likely had mixed feelings regarding the late ruling-reversal. Yes, THE soldier. Only an 87-year-old Dorsey Willis was still alive and was given $25,000 after nearly 67 years of shinning shoes for a living—as a dishonorable discharge is quite the blemish on a job application. In fact, a dishonorable discharge will actually disqualify a U.S. citizen from owning a gun…so damn, that is serious.

The Brownsville Episode is an ugly marker, but one worth confronting for supporters of Theodore Roosevelt. We need to see the faults in our choices, so that we can be humble in victory. Except perhaps for fans of the Cleveland Browns--a team who perpetually, and impressively, remains in the pantheon of the NFL’s top 30 teams or so.

IMMORTALS: I Want to Kill Myself

Not since the 1998 “Godzilla” monstrosity has a movie so brazenly promised a sequel that everyone immediately knows will absolutely not come to fruition. I loved “The Fall,” and at least appreciated “The Cell,” but Tarsem Singh’s latest film, “Immortals,” exhausted all my goodwill within ten minutes. And for the remaining hundred minutes in the auditorium, I found myself counting the virtues of this film’s spiritual predecessors: “Troy” and “300.” These last two films rank among my guilty-pleasures and I would have freely admitted as much for “Immortals” but, frankly, this may be a film with no redeeming qualities and, worse, no earnestly enjoyable moments.

While Tarsem’s previous endeavors--including this one--have shouldered generally weak reviews, nearly every critic will applaud the visual flare and craftsmanship. But “Immortals” will get no such cudos from me. The most memorable visual motif would be the ham-fisted, CGI-heavy, scene transitions. The last shot of one scene focuses on a helmet that fade-dissolves into a boat of ridiculously similar proportions. Such transitions are manufactured with the grace and purpose of me transitioning an armpit “fart” sound into an actual fart.

And woe to those who think the CGI butchery ends there. The fight scenes featured revel in decapitations and amputations, each squirting blood effects copy-and-pasted from Wesley Snipes’ “Blade” films. Every time brightly-rendered blood drifted past the screen in slow motion, I was reminded that no stunt men were harmed in the making of this film—if they were even used at all. “300” had grace. “Troy” had emotion. “The Matrix” had originality. “Immortals” had last month’s leftovers, unevenly reheated.

Ever since “The Wrestler,” there has existed the false notion that Mickey Rouke is a good actor and the evidence may only now be tilting against him. Given the exact same motivation as Nero from “Star Trek,” Rouke exhales every one of his lines with unearned exhaustion. If you close your eyes, he almost sounds like Edward James Olmos after just running a half-marathon. This brooding technique is empty and stagnant two scenes in; nor is it helped when Rouke’s King Hyperion seems to just keep talking, hoping to find interesting dialogue eventually.

Opposite of Rouke’s species, is the endless beautiful Freida Pinto—who I’ve just begun to feel sorry for at this point. From playing a virgin prostitute in “Slumdog Millionaire” to a virgin veterinarian in “Rise of the Planet of the Apes” to now a virgin oracle, Pinto has barely completed one line of character-building dialogue in three combined movies. Given the abysmal “girlfriend” characters she’s played, I can’t say whether she’s a good actress with any more authority than saying whether if she is a good bowler. She makes broad, thematic summaries of the protagonists’ tribulations and then inexplicably loves said protagonist by getting PG-13 naked.

The hero of the film, or at least the guy I wanted to punch the most often, is played by Henry Cavill—whose primary contribution to the world of cinema is staring in the next Superman movie. Muscular nothing, this guy has straight-up boobs. Very, very weird boobs. Incredibly though, it’s actually his sidekick who seems to be wearing a leather bra for half of the movie.

If only the rest of the movie was getting the same level of support as Stephen Dorff.

Worse than the vexing wardrobe, the characters solve their dilemma at around the 70-minute mark but then decide to go to war because, hell, it’s not like people ever really needed reasons to go to war. This, of course, is not even a sliver of commentary in the movie as Cavil and Pinto just finished talking about dead parents and boning (worst foreplay ever?) and the best reason I ever heard for a guy going to war was right after some girl broke his heart. As is, characters do and say things in some strange obligation that almost breaks the fourth wall.

Worthwhile conversations, or even reactions, are substituted for platitudes on faith, pain and, get this, immortality. Characters barely listen to one another as each of them are unstoppable in pouring our their next, ultra-prepared, soon-to-be-inscribed-on-a-tombstone, aphorism. The script reads like a cheap quote book and each line dropped like a sack of oranges.

Also, because this deserves mention, why are there no less than five movies coming out about CIA agents going rogue? Trailers for “Ghost Protocol,” “Safe House” and “Haywire” literally played back-to-back-to-back. When there was finally a trailer for “War Horse” I actually cried out, “Is that horse going rogue!?!” Indeed, the horse does go rogue and had I strangled myself right then and there I would have had a more pleasant experience than staying regrettably conscious for the next two hours. Almost to mock me, the last scene of “Immortals” explicitly recaps the major plot points of the movie just in case anybody had flat-lined for a few scenes at any point but wanted to get a Spark Notes version of the story before trudging out of the auditorium.

Even after leaving the theater, I again wanted to escape to deadening oblivion as I heard fellow moviegoers critique the inaccuracy of Greek mythology in movies, such as “Immortals.” Inaccuracy? Inaccuracy?! It’s mythology! Since when did Greek mythology become this fashionable subculture that deserves to be treated with unparalleled and impeachable reverence? I have friends who have dedicated literally weeks to studying Greek mythology so that they could be outraged at the seeming desecration of their adopted individuality. Have no fear, I tell them, for “Immortals” will not contribution to any forthcoming popularization of Greek iconography.

Personally, my favorite Greek god is Thor but I guess that’s just my burden.

MARGIN CALL: Reality Isn't Enough

The film “Margin Call” is marketed as “based on a true story” though the film adamantly, even awkwardly, refuses to be about specific people in a specific place at a specific time. Even terms like “Wall Street,” “New York,” “politicians,” “crash” “2008” and “recession” are erased from the characters’ dialogue even though such distinctions are as clear in the audience’s mind as the filmmakers intended. The movie is not so much based on a true “story,” but rather based on true ideologies and motivations. Yes, people like these character existed—and still exist—but I’d say most movies contain such realistic characters, though other movies have the theatrics to put said characters in extraordinary circumstances. Fortunately, all the dads in America can breathe easily knowing “Margin Call” is not a 109-minute rant on the immorality and un-sustainability of unchecked, rampant capitalism. Nor is this even an Occupy Wall Street-geared movie. This is a re-enactment for those who don’t read books of how and why America’s, and thus the world’s, economic system seems to collapse every ten years. Granted, “Margin Call” may be based on a true story, but at what cost?

This treatise, er, movie…is really composed of three distinct acts (repeated confusion, lazy swearing and mild-mannered philosophizing) though not so distinct, fluid or colorful as to be intrinsically captivating. No less than three characters say some variation of “Speak English!” when confronted with the numerical language of stock trading. Fortunately, or regrettably, no charts are drawn and any analogies offered are promptly dismissed as remedial or inaccurate. The stockbrokers are not talking to their children or the audience; they are talking to one another and even if you are a professional stockbroker, you still won’t completely follow the conversations because specific numbers, equations, data, names, ratings or proper nouns of any sort are completely absent. This is a historical drama trying to be timeless.

More fatally, the characters themselves find little passion in the 24-hour span of the story. Several go through emotional stages but the stages themselves are under-whelming. “I am stunned,” says one character. “I as well,” says another. “I am the most stunned,” says a third. “I, truthfully, am not so stunned,” says the fourth. And so the story continues. They may be scared, but no real action takes place in the most literal sense. They go from sitting in an office, then a different office to standing on a rooftop, sitting in a car, standing in an office, on a stoop, and finally in a backyard where the movie ends. I suppose most people’s lives play out as such but it feels like a waste of cinema’s virtues. The characters may look out over the city skyline as executives are wont to do, believing themselves titans of the world, but no real-life, street level people consider such men with a fraction of assumed reverence.

Don't suspenders kind of doom a man to a life of mid-level management?

Just as importantly, “Margin Call” is not a Faustian tale, for there are neither real villains nor comeuppance--necessary or otherwise. This is the world we have created. Perhaps in that way, the film is at least unique, if not a little brave. The characters’ desperate acts are in the interest of survival, not greed, and if the only way to survive is to be greedy, so be it. Too many of us would do the same. A million dollars. Ten million? A hundred million? It’s amazing how quickly the characters, and by extension ourselves, can rationalize away morality and cling to the myth that money isn’t everything. A million dollars isn’t just for Scrooge McDuck to swim around in. It’s mortgages, it’s food, it’s sanity, health and continued survival for ourselves and our loved ones.

Like similar financial-oriented films, “Margin Call” has mid-level characters lament the world of capitalism while The Gatekeepers defend their own actions as inevitable human nature. Unfortunately there isn’t the throbbing masculinity and, dare I say, stunt casting of “Glengarry Glen Ross.” Nor is it within a mile of the wall-shattering monologues and even better-casted likes of “Network.” However, it is considerably more crafted than “The Company Men”--the self-crucifying 2010 film about the same economic downturn. Not a stirring recommendation, but why be more excitable than the characters?

More than anyone else, Jeremy Irons deserves a special nod—and not just because I could listen to that man talk all day. Irons, for his character name is irrelevant, conveys a man who is both soothing and perfectly inured to the suffering of others. He is the last character to see doom spelled on the wall so it’s almost fun to watch him alone discovered the advantages of such economic catastrophe. At this point, the movie damn near takes on gangster film qualities as characters confront one another in the bathroom, sinisterly park cars and allow suicide to become a motif of the film. In this last example, cultural memory has lied to you as no stockbrokers leaped from skyscrapers in 2008, or even in 1929.

The methodical pacing will appeal to the patient, but not those seeking escapism. Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty to consider when questioning the tendencies (and obligations) of society, our neighbors and ourselves. And if a new movie is necessary to facilitate such conversations within and among ourselves then, by all means, see “Margin Call.” There are interpretations of the world and people, but the film itself is decidedly pessimistic as the end credits roll with the extended audio of digging. And digging. And more digging. It doesn’t matter why the character is digging, for leaving the theater to such chilling audio will create one summary: we are burying ourselves.

NFL Predictions: Week Ten

Week Ten predictions provided by Mac.

Raiders at Chargers (-7.0)/Broncos at KC(-3.0) two-fer

Does anybody really care who wins that AFC West? Chargers level the Raiders, pissing and

moaning about Carson Palmer ensues or Raiders defeat the hapless Chargers, pissing and moaning about Phillip Rivers ensues. Chiefs take advantage of a one-dimensional Broncos offense, pissing and moaning about Tim Tebow ensues, or the Broncos win with some Tebow magic, pissing and moaning about Matt Cassel…..wait a minute. Why in the hell is there not more pissing and moaning about Matt Cassel?

Sure he doesn’t throw the ball away once a quarter like Rivers and Palmer. Sure he doesn’t throw the ball away in ways where the designated receiver cannot be determined like Tim Tebow. But we are talking about a quarterback who currently has Dwayne Bowe playing certified #1 receiver like he is supposed to. Jonathan Baldwin is playing remarkably considering its his first year, his problematic nature and his fight with Thomas Jones that left he injured for the important development portions of the early season. Steve Breaston is doing all he can to make Matt Cassel to look like a real QB. Dexter McCluster is taking advantage of all the free space that the WR corps is giving him. Even the TEs are playing above their abilities with Tony Moeaki out for the year. Yet there is no talk about the poor play of Matt Cassel. He has moderate to below average arm strength, decent release but terrible ball trajectory when it comes to delivering downfield passes.

Pocket presence is very important and Matt Cassel does not have the confidence to stand in there when the rush is on. He drops his head, braces for impact and ignores the multiple options that have opened up down the field. While he is limiting his TOs, he has only learned to read coverage to know when not to throw the ball. He has only marginally improved on reading the defense to figure out where to the throw ball. This is important because it may be his second year (Ed. note: 3rd season) as Chiefs QB, but he is 28. He has studied behind Tom Brady for most of his career and this is his 3rd (4th) full season starting in the NFL. He has proven that he can be a great back-up QB, but he is definitely not a franchise QB. I hope I made my point…. Oh yeah Chargers win 31-27 (Raiders within the margin) and Chiefs cover (I’m biased as hell) 27-17.

(Ed. note: Freakin' NFL Network aired the Chargers-Raiders game last night.)

Bills at Cowboys (-5.5)

Mr. Harvard vs. Guy-Who-Dated-a-Celebrity-Who’s-Favorite-Movie-was-"Legally Blonde". The Bills season is going to get derailed. I don’t see the Pats missing the playoffs and the Jets proved last week against the Bills that they are for real. The AFC North is the only division I think can take both wild card spots so do the math. Cowboys on the other hand see the Giants facing the hardest schedule to end the season and only a two game lead for the division. That said, positioning doesn’t win you football games, but I’ll take the Cowboys 24-21 (Bills within the margin).

Saints at Falcons (even)

Drew Brees has thrown 379 passes this season, that’s 58 more than his closest competitor in the stat: Tom Brady. My prediction, Brees’ arm falls off. Falcons win 34-31. Also I don’t care if you have medical facts to argue against my prediction, science can suck it!!!

Steelers at Bengals (+3.0)

Good job keeping it together this far Mr. Dalton, but the Steelers will eat you….maybe literally, I don’t trust James Harrison. The CBs are the strongest part of the upstart Bengals defense and Big Ben eliminates their impact by his backyard football style (not a rape joke). 27-10 Steelers. In all honesty I want the Bengals to win this game, and every other game after being predicted by a handful of ESPN analysts to not even win a game this season. Haha, idiots.

Lions at Bears (-3.0)

Lions, no Tigers, but some Bears, oh my. Bears win 21-13. Just so you know, that AFC West/Matt Cassel rant went too long so I’m simplifying the rest of my predictions.

Pats at Jets (-1.5)

Jets 27-24, we all cry at the passing of Tom Brady. That might have been a play on words, not sure anymore.

Couple Freebies: Giants beat the 49ers and Vikings beat the Packers (they’re bound to lose a game; if I just keep predicting it when they finally lose I will be right).

THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE: Rightfully Paranoid

Calling somebody a “communist” in today’s world is kind of a dated insults, perhaps in the vein of calling somebody a “fishmonger.” The guy on the street corner assures me that communism is still around, and I believe him, but the stigma—real or imagined—in America is not what it was in the 1920s, 1980s or 1950s.

As a society, we still allow peoples and ideologies to get the more paranoid half of our imagination—Islam, Haliburton or diet communism (socialism) to name a few. But none of these are quite as wildly and widely terrifying as communism in the 1950s. This was a time when the Cincinnati Reds (an allusion to Native Americans) had to change their team name to avoid offending people with connotations of communism--before eventually changing their name back to the (less offensive) name: The Reds. This was a time when not only the USSR had successfully tested nukes, but had several of them, big ones, and eventually the biggest one. Everything may be big in Texas, but it’s biggest in Russia. The USSR was putting mini-moons in orbit and shot their most bloodthirsty canine into space. Never before had a country won a war--like how America won WWII--and become so immediately terrified.

And when America talks about anything for longer than twelve minutes, Hollywood will make a movie about it. What’s extraordinary then, is when a movie can transcend its own time and be more than a classic, be more than revolutionary, insightful, quaint, nostalgic, or precognitive. One such movie was, is and will be, John Frankenheimer’s, 1962 Cold War-thriller: “The Manchurian Candidate.”

In practice, political movies are box office death because their inherent ideologies alienate half of the country or are otherwise too spineless. It’s why Oliver Stone can make marginally profitable or culturally resonate films, though they are cut off from being classics (his casting/directing/writing might also be holding him back). Political dramas, even historical dramas, are too political if the characters’ real life manifestations still have real world power. Conversely, films that take potshots at both sides (“Man of the Year,” “Swing Vote,” etc.) rarely offer any new intellectual territory. In “The Manchurian Candidate,” left and right extremists come under fire in every way that is both new and relatively unused.

In the film, Senator John Iselin is a McCarthy-stand-in, though assuming the real life McCarthy is the only hot blooded politicians to attack groups of people for their thoughts is historically negligent. Iselin, running for Vice-President, makes wild accusations about communists infiltrating the state department. Iseline's high-roading rhetoric mixed with presidential ambitions is obviously more akin to former Vice-President Richard Nixon, but Iselin’s character is little more than a puppet. This is not a one-to-one historical allegory, as Nixon was far from anybody’s puppet. Iselin, though, is routinely built up and brushed off by his backroom-savvy wife, Eleanor. Eleanor, a coy name-connotation of FDR's lovely wife, has to be the icy, remorseless caricature more modern Republicans have since painted on Hilary Clinton.

This power-couple then sends the movie audience mixed messages about what to believe. The self-serving, communist-hater would hate puppies if it’d further his career. Furthermore, while his specific conspiracy accusations are entirely unfounded, the film is undoubtedly about...wait for it...a communist conspiracy. The film, via psychological mumbo--and occasional jumbo--demonstrates that the Chinese and Russians very much want to take over America and feasibly could. The audience is asked to fear communists, then fear fear-mongers, then fear women, rightist, communists (again!), war veterans and snakes. Either that or just stop being afraid of everything.

Politics aside, the film is extraordinarily crafted—most notably in a few early scenes wherein several American soldiers are hypnotized and then hallucinate the actual events while dreaming months later. Shades of “Inception,” indeed, but only in the best, normal-gravity, way. Raymond Shaw (played by Laurence Harvey) lumbers through the scenes as a partially hypnotized, partially shell-shocked war veteran, but he really shines two-thirds in, impressing himself at his first articulated joke in years. Revealing Shaw as a formally likeable guy comes at the exact wrong moment for our hero Bennett Marco (Frank Sinatra)—making it the exact right moment for the film.

Also, let us not forget why Frank Sinatra was a movie star. Yeah, yeah, he’s was good for every scene—and really good for one strangely out-of-focus scene. But he was great as one-half of the first karate fight scene ever staged in an American film. Like the political drama, the fight was brutal, destructive, crisp, confusing and left both parties considerably worse off than mere minutes before. Sintra may have been difficult to work with, as rumored, but the fight scene broke his hand and he let the movie use his private airplane as a set. True, he earned a lot of money from the original “Ocean’s 11,” but he wasn’t always just some suave character besting the mortals lucky enough to breathe his air.

"This is the best hand in poker, I'm tellin' ya!"

America was terrified, yes. But so was the USSR, and such a detrimental irony is not lost on the movie when the Chinese and Russian conspirators question their own communist beliefs, briefly favoring the joy of success and secret knowledge. These men, the supposed villains, are not risking their lives so that school children will be forced to read Karl Marx a generation from now; they are risking everything so that they can be proven to be on the "right side" of the human condition. Philosophy is not enough reason to die for most; but winning, well, that's in our genetic make-up.

Such philosophical cynicism is actually an embrace of human commonality when the same pitfalls of a reversal ideology crash around the Americans. Saved by few bullets, America in the movie avoids throwing itself into the embrace of a dictator we so nearly, and would have gleefully, elected. In this aspect, a crazed gunman circumvented democracy to save us from our worst enemy, ourselves.

Ultimately, there is no message to “The Manchurian Candidate” besides what you learn. The movie has nothing to say, but rather asks the audience to filter, question, test and believe what they can. The film was made with communism on the mind, but it has since outlived the explicit paranoia. Murder, friendship, deception, sacrifice, politics, demagogues, love, conspiracies, and hypocrites all populate this historical, fictional world, creating an experience and making adaptable ideologies still relevant, entertaining and terrifying.

NFL Predictions: Week Nine

Nick:

D-lineman Ndamukong Suh apparently met with--NFL’s Hammer of God--Roger Goodell this week. With more than a small sense of self-righteousness, I hope that Goodell played “Mr. Jenkins” to Suh’s “Howard Beale” and just ripped the football player in half with a devastating monologue on the true significance of professional football. Don’t kid yourself, the game is not about athletics, statistics and tackling people; it’s about good vs. evil. Professional football is a continuous melodrama, a soap opera for the people who don’t watch soap operas. What does this mean? It means Suh and the rest of the Lions have squandered their chance at being America’s Underdogs (ala 2002 Patriots) or America’s Recovery (ala 2010 Saints). Nope, fight after fight after taunt after fight, the Detroit Lions—with their small-scale winning—have become nothing but petty, self-serving and vindictive dicks. I am looking forward to them finally getting properly smacked by the Green Bay Packers later this year. Twice.

Mac:

The Lions. This is a team that hasn’t won anything. Last year they finished on a winning streak but this is first year in over a decade that they have had playoff aspirations. So where did this swagger come from? The fast start was not all that surprising, seeing the strides forward by the Stafford-Johnson connection and the instant impact of Suh. The confidence of this team is a whole other thing. It’s not quite like the Jets cockiness because the Lions haven’t tried to play the game in press conferences. Suh's quotes have gained the ire of many but most of his trash talking comes while he is planting the QB in the dirt. I don’t know what Suh or any other Lion said when Matt Ryan got his ankle stepped on by his own offensive tackle. If you enjoy clichés that present deductive reasoning as a duck metaphor then you would assume that clearly the story is true. To that I say, 'so what'. Although I’m not rooting for the Lions this year, I also don’t look at the idea of the Low-Blow Lions as being a bad thing. I love the Suh mentality that if he just keeps hitting the QB, he will beat the will to win out of them. Suh is making no friends in the NFL and he is damn proud of it. This is his second season and he has turned a perennial loser into a gritty defense that will pound its opponent into submission. As opposed to the cocky Jets who seem to find it more important to let the media know they are winners, Suh has truly showed the leadership to make the team put winning over everything else, including sportsmanship. Some people don’t like that, but it doesn’t matter what other people think of the Lions. They’re winning.

Miami at Kansas City (-3.5)

Nick:

Poor Miami is 0-7 and they’re still not really even number one in the “Suck for Luck” contest. That distinction would go to the Colts, who have the duel advantage of intriguing personnel possibilities (i.e. cutting Peyton “Superneck” Manning) and a string of defeats that’d make the Washington Generals look like winners. Whereas the Dolphins have shown some moxie in most of their games but still just stranded in Nowhere, USA. Last Monday, the Chiefs snatched victory away from the jaws of death inside of the monster of victory...or something. What I mean is that the Chiefs should not have blown the 13-3 second half lead but they probably also shouldn’t have had a second half lead. Basically, I just not a believer in Todd Haley’s beard and the Chiefs have a terrifying road ahead of them from Week 11 to Week 15. Fortunately this is only Week 9 and they can keep stumbling forward. Chiefs.

Mac:Records in the NFL don’t matter. If the Rams can beat the Saints with Sam Bradford injured than any team can surprise you come Sunday. The key to a game is match-ups and this one lends itself to the Chiefs. The Chiefs play well when Matt Cassel faces below average pass defenses which the Dolphins rank 27th. If the Chiefs play offense well early and get a lead, the Dolphins will have to rely on Matt Moore to lead them to victory, an event not likely to happen. Take away the run game and the Dolphins will flounder as they’ve done all season. Chiefs 24-13

Cleveland at Houston (-12.5)

Nick:

I’ve made up a lot of prophetic ground by repeatedly betting against the Texans. It’s not that I dislike the team. I just think they are a safe bet to never “bring it” when “it” really needs to be “brought.” Frankly, I was going to bet against the Texans no matter what this week as their division-leading 5-3 record is really close to the Browns very quiet 3-5 record. This spread just feels generous now. Colt McCoy is better than Matt Schaub for having a shred of mystery still left in him. Hell, more people in Texas probably know McCoy than Schaub, too. The Texans have never made a playoff appearance and they’ve still always been a better football team than the Browns, yet the Browns have beaten Houston 3 of 6 all-time meetings. Like Bender betting on a race horse, I find myself cheering on “Lasty.” I think Houston just might step in a big pile of Browns on the field and lose a gross one at home. Cleveland.

Mac:

Nick was mad at me picking the Browns game last week so….. what’s the deal Nick? The Browns are 2nd in the league at pass defense. Mostly because their wins have been against one-dimensional offenses and in 3 of their 4 losses their opponent started running the clock out early in the 3rd quarter. This Texans team hasn’t been consistent but has a dynamic offense that will put Cleveland down early and let Arian Foster milk the clock for the entire second half. Texans 27-10

New York (Jets) at Buffalo (even)

Nick:

I’m just hoping Mac takes the bait. Bills, duh.

Mac:

The optimist says the Jets have a good defense and the Bills have a good offense. The pessimist says the Jets have a bad offense and the Bills have a bad defense. At 5-2 the Bills are having an outstanding season, tied for the division lead and have a win over the Patriots. At 4-3, Jets are a disappointment dropping 3-straight in the middle of the season and having no success with an offense that is filled with every stud skill-player that was on the free agent market. But if the Jets win this game, those two opposite teams will be in the exact same position, 5-3 praying the Giants piss off Foxborough one more time. Look for the Jets to get out of the sports media doghouse, edging out the Bills in an offense explosion, Jets 37-31

New York (Giants) at New England (-9.5)

Nick:

Oh, a repeat of Superbowl XLII—the absolute best Superbowl for everybody outside of the greater Boston area. Like I’ve said before, Bellichek is one of the best at recovering from a loss—which is why he wins so many games. I think I’ve also voiced enough skepticism about the Giants. Continuing, I don’t think the Patriots will overlook a team they so gloriously overlooked just a few years ago in front of 90 million people. On a sadder note, I don’t think I’ll ever get my Manning vs. Manning Superbowl now. Damn Eli’s wild fluctuations and Peyton’s post-season tribulations. Anyhow, the Patriots are home and Boston started pre-gaming for this showdown on Tuesday. Now to just look at the point spread and…holy hell, ten points? The Giants have won 5 of their last 6, people. They’re going to make a better game out of this than ten points. New York within the margin.

Mac:

I don’t understand the Giants and I won’t pretend to. I don’t understand Eli Manning and I won’t pretend to. I could make a prediction on this game but it wouldn’t really mean anything. All I know is the Patriots don’t lose 2 in a row very often and I expect Tom Brady to come out on fire to make up for the Steelers game. But I still see something happening here. The NFC East is once again a talented division that has underperformed. At one point the 1-4 Eagles looked like it was about to become the best team to not make the playoffs…ever. Instead they sit at 3-4 two games out of the division lead and are on an upswing. Eli Manning is trying to live up to his off-season comments about being elite even though the team around him is losing a step. He doesn’t have the running game that will limit his turnover proneness and the defense is a loss when it comes to stopping the run. Eli is elite but teams don’t win in December with a bad rush offense and a bad rush defense. My predictions today is that the Eagles win the NFC East, the Giants don’t make the playoffs, and this game starts the downward trend of the Giants, Patriots 31-17.

Green Bay at San Diego (+5.5)

Nick:

At this point Aaron Rodgers is not only going to win the league MVP (if Peyton Manning is disqualified), but the second and third place winners will just be “Aron Rogers” and “Why are we even voting on this?” There are still too many reasons why the Packers won’t go 16-0 and so the better question is when will the upset happen? Against the Chargers? On their short week? When the Packers are coming off of a bye-week? When Rivers is making dumb passes like a drunk congressman? There is very little that makes sense in football and I think my biggest regret this season was not publishing my prediction that the Rams would beat the Saints (don’t believe I called it, do you?). This is moronic; only a dumbbell would pick San Diego. Only an absolute naïf or brain-stunted addlepate. Only a cable channel news pundit or dimwit, dingbat, dunce or dolt would do this. Maybe I’m just a simpleton, a simpleton with a plan. Chargers.

Mac:

This is a hard game for me to predict because every Chargers game I want to espouse my theory on Philip Rivers called the Anti-Farve. Instead I’ll simply say this, the Chargers have all the talent needed to be the team to upset the undefeated Packers. They have offensive weapons that are on par with the Packers. They have a defense that is actually playing better than the Packers. The only difference between the two is execution which falls on one person, the head coach. Simply stated Norv Turner has to be fired and the Chargers have to replace him with a coach that will hold this team, specifically Rivers, accountable for its mistakes and miscues. Although everything points to the Packers taking advantage of the sloppy Chargers, I’m predicting an upset by a Chargers team that gets their act together for one game, Chargers 34-24

Baltimore at Pittsburgh (-3.5)

The Ravens only lose easy games. And some hard ones, but mostly just easy ones. And Ben Roethlisberger knows something about having trouble with the easy ones. The Steelers should play better than in Week 1. But are they 35-points better? Not likely. On the other hand, Joe Flacco isn’t taking anybody to the Superbowl unless he’s buying the tickets; which is too bad because this rivalry will only become one of the league’s best if Baltimore can get some major playoff wins and stop being the Joey Bishop of the AFC North. Big Ben is 7-1 against the Ravens when at home and that ain’t too shabby. Maybe this is just a lingering effect of picking the Chargers a paragraph ago but I feel another unlikely upset coming on. Picking underdogs does provide a small sense of euphoria. Who needs drugs when writing gives you an inflated self-esteem? Oh yeah, writers. Ravens.

Mac:

This is a game I’m excited to see. The Ravens and the Steelers are tied for first in the AFC North, both are playing great going into this game and both have teams that are built for winter football. The Ravens in all reality should finally be a better team than the Steelers but that should have been true in previous years yet every time that Steelers have one-upped them. This year however Flacco and Boldin have gained chemistry that gives this team an edge that they haven’t had before. Ravens beat the Steelers for the second time this year by playing Steelers football better than Pittsburgh, Ravens 24-17

Season Records:

Nick (5-1)

Mac (5-1)