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kristipetersen
Reviews
Destination Truth: Live from Ireland: The Search for the Banshee Ghost (2011)
THAT'S the Spirit! Destination Truth's "Live from Ireland: The Search for the Banshee Ghost" illustrated what real-time televised paranormal investigations can—and should—be
*CONTAINS SPOILERS*
I write ghost stories. I write a number of ghost stories. Yet every year what I hope will be the ultimate ghost story—the live televised paranormal investigation—falls flat. The evening deteriorates until its highlight is knocking back a shot of Jack every time a green-faced investigator says "Did you hear that?"
But during Destination Truth's four-hour "Live from Ireland: The Search for the Banshee Ghost," which aired on St. Patrick's Day, I didn't have to go that far. And I don't think anyone else did, either: Twitter was noisy. Facebook was frenetic. People were riveted. Why?
The show tapped into some of the elements of good ghost stories. Here's what DT did right—and what every one of these shows should study up on before its next live televised paranormal investigation.
Well-written creepy back story revealed like water torture. In ghost stories—as with real haunted places—in-depth, tragic histories are key. This info needs to be administered between the action, getting scarier each time (just when you think the history of the place can't get any darker, here comes something scarier). The pre-recorded historical and prior investigation sections of DT weren't only well-researched and - written, they romanced the ghost story's "campfire element": people telling tales. They were also staggered well, placed just after an investigation segment's denouement (in ghost stories, history's often presented after the falling action of scarier scenes). King's The Shining is an excellent example of this technique.
Complex, distinct personalities and chemistry. Ghost stories are really about drama between people—how they're victims of or conquer their personalities; how they fail or don't fail each other. In fact, in most stories the ghost isn't the point; the ghost's a vehicle, and the actual scary moments act as triggers for the characters to clash within themselves or with each other. If the characters are cardboard and indistinct, this doesn't work: no conflict, no drama. Fortunately, this DT investigation got that. Josh is driven and daring—but sometimes makes reckless decisions. Ryder's uptight and bitches on a dime—but is sensitive underneath. Barry's level-headed and rational—but is startled easily. Jael's always nervous—but can't say no. These four in a high- pressure situation was like watching fireworks. Who cared if a ghost showed up—the threat of one showing up was enough. Characters, not plot.
Properly ratcheted tension. Tension's critical in ghost stories, and creating it's an art in itself. There are several ways to do it, and DT took advantage of a few. Skillful revelation of back story and internal/external conflicts (mentioned above) heighten tension. A twist resulting in danger in the middle of the story—such as the discovery of the hair comb—is another. There's also manipulation of characters—put the most vulnerable in the roughest spots. An excruciating play in DT was Josh's selecting Jael to handle the tower alone—and everything that ensued. Whether or not the decision to send her was made on scene or prior to filming doesn't matter: she was the obvious choice because of her personality. Even if she hadn't experienced anything, she was so jumpy we felt it. And how about when Josh told her he'd spied moving shadows beneath her? He could've kept his mouth shut so as not to make her worse. But he didn't—he goaded her, and our eyes grew wide along with hers. Had Josh selected someone fearless, the tension would've been greatly reduced.
Engagement of all five senses. Good ghost stories engage all five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch. DT's unhurried establishing shots of dead trees, endless moss-covered corridors and burnt timbers served the same purpose as a well-crafted descriptive paragraph (think the opening of Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher"), creating tone and mood. The sound of Jael's furiously throbbing heart during her tower ordeal rattled the floorboards if you happened to be listening in surround-sound ("The Tell-Tale Heart," anyone?), and the distant wails and screams—whether from sheep, whales or something supernatural—were chilling. Even though television viewers couldn't directly experience smell, taste, and touch, team members were generous with their remarks about, among them, a dead bird's odor, the taste of fish breakfast vomit, and the temperature of the air to ensure that these senses—with some imagination—were included.
Humor. Gates is a genuinely funny guy (when examining a live scorpion to eat: "Um, do you have anything more
dead?"). In ghost stories, there is, at least, one strategically-placed humorous moment or line of dialogue. There has to be. It breaks the tension so the reader can catch his breath—and experience a contrasting emotion, necessary so the next tension-infused section is that much more intense. In DT, every funny line or moment was situational, brief—and in just the right place.
At the show's sunset, they shared the evidence they'd found thus far—and while it certainly was stunning, I wouldn't have cared if they'd gotten nothing. Four hours had passed like fourteen minutes. I'd been scared, shocked, entertained, amused, informed, and on the edge of my seat. It had been, finally, the ride I'd always wanted a live paranormal investigation to be: like Jacobs' "The Monkey's Paw" or Lurie's "The Pool People."
Destination Truth's "Live from Ireland: The Search for the Banshee Ghost" has obliterated the frequently-piped excuse that "a live ghost hunt is boring." If other shows take its cue, I think we can thankfully say that the days of sleep-inducing live paranormal investigations are a thing of the past—and I can put away my bottle of Jack.
The Princess and the Frog (2009)
Disney's Triumphant Return to 2-D
I was privileged to attend a showing of The Princess and the Frog last night as part of a special engagement at New York City's Zeigfeld theater. This movie exceeded all expectations. It is visually stunning, musically a work of genius, thematically sophisticated, and story-wise told in a refreshingly different way (some actions are pre-motivation) which makes the ride an unpredictable one.
Visually, Disney has gone above and beyond. They have invoked the steamy feeling of the city of New Orleans in shades of gold and lavender, and in the swamp scenes, some of the backgrounds are so expertly rendered it's like you're looking at a photograph. But what stood out the most with this artwork was the colors. They are a study in thematic contrast. In the scenes with the villain, the bright colors of Mardi Gras are used to reveal a darker, sinister side. The effect is wonderfully jarring and creates an appropriate emotional response: rather than hating the villain, we're led to mistrust him. He's pretty on the outside, but there's something awful lurking underneath. It's like that sixth sense you get sometimes with certain people in your life. In Mama Odie's scene, the color scheme is subtle and muted—until she reveals her inner goodness, and the scene explodes with color; another comment on how purity can hide in the most surprising places.
To say that once again Randy Newman has done an expert job with the music would be an understatement. He had a lot to work with here—the musical tapestry of New Orleans is a mix of Dixieland, Zydeco, and Spiritual. He could have easily chosen one of those styles and stuck with it—instead, he blends all three, and the effect is seamless. The musical numbers tend to stay in one vein or the other depending on the character – which also works to help tell the story -- but the underlying score, while you'll instantly recognize Newman's hallmark sound, is a genius integration. To top it off, because this film takes place in the golden age of jazz, he has deftly inserted musical references to Gershwin. Amazing. With so much to work with, it could have easily been a confusing or even chaotic train-wreck. Not in his hands.
Thematically, this film has taken some of Disney's classic themes and examined them more deeply: they are two-sided and complex. The choices these characters make are never easy--more so than in other films--and that updates these themes so that modern audiences can more readily identify. Similarly, Disney's newest princess, Tiana, is the strongest, most interesting princess to date. She is intelligent, complex – and oozes passion, something that, in my opinion, has only been approached (and I do insist, "approached") in Belle and Ariel. Tiana is a princess for today's woman. Little girls of the world have quite an exciting and refreshing new role model.
Disney's writers have chosen to tell this story in a different way, as well. It's not your typical spell-it-all-out up-front story, and some story elements are never even vocalized, they're visual, and back story and motivation are sometimes revealed after the relevant action rather than before. It was really refreshing to see Disney choose a slightly different construction—it leads to keeping the tale unpredictable and much more engaging. But I'm a writer, so I know it's hard to do this well. For the most part, Disney succeeds. However, there is a bit of a downside to this. Constructing a story in this manner can lead to a lot of subtlety in the way the story is told, and because of this, some of the characters' motives are not always clear right away. This seems to happen the most with Dr. Facilier, the villain. When he's on the screen, it's really important to concentrate or you might miss some key story elements.
All in all, don't miss The Princess and the Frog. It's the best 97 minutes I've spent in a theater in a long, long time.
Frogs (1972)
Frogs is a film...that may run deep
Attention, all: Specific Spoilers in here!
A frog little man vs. nature film great for a three-in-the-morning-insomniac-fest, Frogs may be. But it's less scary than it is a interesting comment on the social undercurrents bubbling to the surface in 1972.
We meet our characters, all the classics that populate the 1970s disaster films: Jason Crockett (the disappointing Ray Milland, even if it IS the script's fault), who represents the adults, the older generation that was being rebelled against in the just-post-hippie years. Being Crockett is a military man who likes everything to be ordered and just so, he also represents the `staid' government that youth were rebelling against at the time; Karen Crockett (Joan Van Ark), the perhaps-Carpenter-inspired anorexia glam of the 70s, (or was it Twiggy-inspired leftover, perhaps), so thin if she turns sideways she'd disappear.and Pickett (Sam Elliot), who boldly removes his shirt when he's got to leap in the water to dislodge the canoe with Karen and the two children in it, not only to provide the standard male sex symbol image so prevalent in all horror films (got to have a maverick guy to rescue everybody and be the outspoken one who's right in the end, after all), but also to illustrate `that men are still men even if there's this women's lib movement thriving. A hairy chest still turns them on.'
Now, issues. Most amusing, the comments on the leftovers of the civil rights movement. I found the woman in her voo-doo inspired garish robes and hoop earrings just a little contrived when she screamed at the two servants, `Five score and seven years ago you earned the right to make up your own minds.' Or something like that - I don't remember the line exactly. But it's a sub-plot that surfaces for all of five minutes and is resolved in all of five minutes, sticking out like the sore thumb of the screenwriter trying to get his point across just because it was `cool' or `hip' or `in' at the time.
There's even the surfacing of the anti-American government theme: well, Vietnam was going on at the time. A frog tromps blissfully across a cake shaped and frosted like the American Flag. Toward the end, a frog lodges itself against the thick arm of an ancient grammophone, putting a stop to the festive militant-sounding march music that is Crockett's attempt to soothe his nerves in the middle of the night.
And then, there's the pre- don't-pick-up-strangers-on-the-side-of-the-road mentality: Pickett secures a ride for Karen and the kids from a passing car. The woman doesn't question him getting in the car with a shot-gun. And, after all, why would she? She's only got her kid she just picked up from camp in the passenger seat.
Okay, perhaps this is all too deep for a low-budget 1970s `monster' movie. But films, no matter how bad, often reflect what's up with the country at the time and sometimes you even find evidence of that in a lousy script and bad shots of probably-harmless frogs on the `rampage.'
So when that phone rings in the last scene, leaving Milland in despair to shout, 'it can't be dead, it rang!'.don't let fear keep you up. It's just the frogs calling to tell you your beer is finished - and it's time to call it a night.