It sure seems there were far too many Roman Emperors to keep track of them all. Besides, they all kinda had the same name. Or so it seems to me.
Anyway, of all those ancient emperors, Marcus Salvius Otho is not one of the better known. Maybe he shouldn’t have changed that name to Marcus Otho Caesar Augustus, which really confused his identity.
He’s known as Otho. And he was emperor for only four months, hardly long enough to get Shakespeare to write a play about him. And he didn’t really marry well. His bride Poppaea Sabina became Nero’s mistress. Read the rest of this entry »
There are those who consider this sequel in the “American Pie” series nothing but a piffle of a movie, basically a money grab by the producers.
Silly them.
Please listen as I break down the startlingly astute thematic elements of a film that examines the mores of American culture today, a film that transcends the genre in ways that hardly seem fathomable.
Returning to a high school reunion, a trip fraught with possibility and trepidation, is considered in a mature manner, that, to be honest, stunned me.
I was expecting just another two hours of Stiffler’s sophomoric humor and the dunderheaded musings of Eugene Levy as Jim’s dad. What I got was totally surprising.
Listen up for an in depth perspective on the most surprising film of the year thus far.
I trust that Septimius Severus had many a fine day in his 65 years. None more so than April 9, in the annum 193.
So you will not be confused, the Septimius Severus of which I speak was born in 146 in Leptis Magna, Tripolitania. His full name was Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax.
The son of an equestrian, he was a member of the Senate then a Governor. It was at a time when all sorts of plunder were afoot. First Emperor Commodus was murdered. The Praetorian Guards then took similar action with his successor, Publius Helvius Pertinax, after which the title was auctioned off — that is not a typo — to Marcus Didus Julianus. Read the rest of this entry »
If it appears to you, my loyal readers, that I often pepper my historical references to music, well, it’s true. Way to pay attention. I’m a prisoner of rock & roll. It’s too late to stop now.
Which I mention as a caveat emptor to this first reference to Toussaint L’Ouverture. The Haitian revolutionary was the son of an educated slave, taught French by the Jesuits. He rose to power through various skirmishes and his ability to switch allegiances when necessary between the French and Spanish.
In my obsession over a somewhat important basketball game, contested last night in New Orleans, I frankly forgot to post this link to my review last Wednesday of “Hunger Games.”
I sincerely apologize to you my listeners and readers for any inconvenience this omission might have caused.
As if?
I also chat up a little film that probably fell below your radar, “Jeff, Who Lives at Home.”
There are two reactions when Bill Clinton’s visage pops up somewhere.
There are some whose blood still boils at the very thought of that former president, the one who left office with the government’s books in order, and a sweet smelling cigar sitting in an ashtray in the Oval Office.
There are others, who immediately offer they’d vote for him today in a heartbeat. That he’s the Best Man.
And I’m here to point out that, whichever of the above camps you find yourself, there was a day when he was unarguably Best Man. Read the rest of this entry »
To be honest, my fellow cineastes, it is a time of year when my love of film gives way to a higher calling.
Basketball.
I trust you understand.
That said, after watching 12 straight hours of hoops on Thursday, followed by 12 straight hours of hoops on Friday, followed by 12 straight hours of hoops on Saturday — with momentary breaks to heed nature’s calling and to fill up the bowl of chips — I hit the wall on Sunday.
So, the Film Babe and I headed to the movie house.
Where we found ourselves laughing at the sophomoric, poo poo ka ka humor of “21 Jump Street,” a flick loosely based on the TV series that launched Kentuckian Johnny Depp to stardom.
Today’s first factoid is almost unfathomable in this day and age when every single bit of information and every event is available for consideration or watching by anyone anywhere they might be by computer, mobile device, iPad or its imitators. Which is not to even mention the availability on such old school technology as, you know, a radio on your desk or Dick Tracy Wrist TV.
Yes, kids there was actually time when we didn’t learn about some matters until the Town Crier shouted it out, or the Pony Express brought the news or Walter Cronkite mentioned it on the Evening News.
So it might come as a revelation to some that it wasn’t until March 19, 1979 that the House of Representatives began televising its proceedings for constituents all around the nation to watch. Read the rest of this entry »
So I saw the ad for the album at the corner of a page in the last Oxford American music issue, the one featuring music from Mississippi. (Order it, please, if you don’t already have it. If you care about American popular music, that is.)
There was something about the album cover that caught my eye. That funky photo. The list of guest performers, including the beguiling Sam Phillips and Ms. Lucinda. (Need I say her last name? No.)
It is true that I have enough chutzpah that I adopted the moniker, “Culture Maven.”
It is also true that I would aspire to the descriptor, Renaissance Man, but must admit that I fall woefully short.
That said, I am going to hear Toots & the Maytals tomorrow night. And I did find time over Championship Weekend to actually attend a film in which the word “basketball” was not mentioned.
So, pretty expansive, I’ve got that going for me. Which is a good thing.
The movie was “Friends With Kids.” Here’s my take:
The Messiah Tiger Woods was last seen — just this weekend, truth be told — quitting in the middle of a round in a tournament after he apparently felt a tweak in his achilles tendon or something like that. Which means, on would suppose, that we get forty more years of pestilence, or frogs from the sky or something biblical like that.
Not to mention, no more major titles any time soon for He Who Would Be Tiger.
All together now: “Awwwwwwwwwww!!!”
By now, you’re probably asking yourself why I would bring up such a peripheral sports matter at this all hoops all the time time of year? Read the rest of this entry »
I could have talked about the Oscar winning foreign affair, “A Separation,” which opened in Louisville last weekend.
Except that, with all the hoops going on, I didn’t get a chance to see it before they turned on my microphone.
The Film Babe and I did venture out to the cineplex on a Saturday night — a rarity, I can assure you — to see an interesting if somewhat flawed little thing titled “Thin Ice.”
Greg Kinnear. Billy Crudup. And the guy who gives hope to alter cockers everywhere, Alan Arkin.
My thoughts? I thought you’d never inquire. Listen up:
It sure seems there were far too many Roman Emperors to keep track of them all. Besides, they all kinda had the same name. Or so it seems to me.
