Remember ©2002 Steve Anthony All rights reserved.
If you left because of love
to bring me to my senses,
you forgot to come again
when I awoke.
If you left because of thoughts
that you weren't good enough,
you forgot that love judges nothing
but the heart.
If you left because of anger
to hurt me only for a season,
you forgot that love is forever
and you are gone.
Remember.
Poseidon (2006) ©2006 Steve Anthony. All rights reserved.
One would think that with Sheila Allen, widow of the late great action director Irwin Allen, at the helm as Executive Producer of this latest installment of Paul Gallico’s book “The Poseidon Adventure,” that the filmmaker’s would never violate Mr. Allen’s first rule of a good script and subsequently a good movie. That rule, which he stated one evening in a television interview prior to the premiere of the 1972 film, was something like, “You don’t kill people on page 10 of a script. You get to know them first and then kill them on page 30.”
In “Poseidon,” which runs 19 minutes shorter than 1972's adventure, there is no time to develop great characters before disaster occurs, and although the acting is very good, without memorable characters the film is not as good as it could have been. Perhaps the filmmakers assumed we already knew the characters, but that’s not true when you change the actors portraying them or their circumstances within the story as is the case here. Sure, we know them to a degree, but not well enough to go beyond the classic roles we are so familiar with.
Also missing on this boat ride is any real interaction between the main characters; and the great one liners of the original that relieved the tension of the situation. You won’t hear lines like Stella Stevens as Mrs. Rogo, mocking her policeman husband, played by Ernest Borgnine, with, “Maybe you can just yell, ‘THIS IS THE POLICE!’ and it’ll open right up!” or just generally griping, “I’m going next, so if old fat ass gets stuck in there, I won’t be stuck behind her,” as the journey to find safety takes them through a cramped air duct. In fact, one of the biggest problems with "Poseidon" is the lack of any real humor to break up the drama and terror the characters face from scene to scene, which deprives the audience of the chance to relax. But, you can't have humor during a disaster if no one knows anyone else, and unlike the survivors of the original, who banded together, these people really couldn't care less about each other.
Once this Poseidon is capsized by a rogue wave, now known to be a natural phenomenon, instead of a tsunami generated by an undersea quake as it's predecessor was, there’s hardly time to take a breath, and the adrenaline never stops for the remainder of the film. This actually adds to the claustrophobic effect of corridors and crawlspaces filled with fire, water, and dead bodies. In fact, it leaves us feeling as rushed as the actors to find a way out.
One has to wonder what lies on the cutting room floor of “Poseidon,” which, like most films, probably holds some great unseen work by the actors, and maybe the extra 19 minutes needed to make us sympathize more with their characters, as we enjoy the roller coaster ride up to the bottom of the ship. I suspect, however, that even with restored footage we wouldn’t have a character with as much depth as Belle Rosen as portrayed by Shelley Winters; Rogo fleshed out by Ernest Borgnine; or Reverend Scott, courtesy of Gene Hackman.
The movie does provide a visual extravaganza of the stark realism typical of movies of the last few years, and when people are cut, crushed, drowned, burned, or electrocuted, you can almost feel their blood dripping on you, their aching lungs gasping for air, and smell their flesh burning.
Poseidon is worth seeing if only for the adrenaline filled ride and realistic special effects it offers, but with Lucas, Russell, and Dreyfuss on board, it could have been a much better film if we had had more time to get to know the people we were taking the ride with.
Like a cup of hot chocolate.
A Cup of Hot Chocolate ©2002 Steve Anthony All rights reserved.
Imagine picking up a smooth round stone, hot from the sun, holding it between the palms of your hands to warm them, and then pressing it against your mouth as rich and sugary aromatic wisps of steam rise from it, overwhelming your senses. You purse your lips against it and carefully draw in a dark, velvety infusion of sweet foamy liquid, that glazes your lips, sweeps over your tongue, and slowly makes its way down the back of your throat, as it spreads its warmth throughout your body.
Shortly after "Operation Iraqi Freedom" began in 2003 I sent this letter to the editor of my local newspaper and it was published. I've made a few edits after reading it again but the message is the same and that is that the reality of war can never be sugar coated or made appealing enough to forget what it really is.
The Reality of War © 2003 Steve Anthony All rights reserved.
Welcome to the 21st century where war has become a major television event. While networks battle each other for ratings, reporters spew play-by-play action of the opposing teams as if in some surreal sports competition. Details of game plans and strategies are announced openly like a life-sized version of Milton Bradley’s “Battleship.” If desired, refreshments are as close as the nearest kitchen larder. This is reality television in its lowest, most primitive form.
I’m sure responsible news reporting does exist, but presenting war with dramatic license, in the sanitized and detached arena that is television, is somehow unsettling. Letting the entire world know the vulnerability of stealth bombers as they open their sleek black bellies, to release explosive payloads of up to 2400 pounds is alarming. Interviewing generals to see what’s next on the “game plan” is disconcerting. “Shock and awe” becomes disgust and abhorrence at the absurd possibility of the “Attack on
As if viewing a made-for-TV event, the camera reveals an intersection that might be in any modern American city. Street lights continue cycling through their green-yellow-red-yellow-green pattern, oblivious to any impending threat. One is both appalled, yet strangely compelled, to tune in to this surreal scenario. Have we forgotten what war really is?
In “A Taste of Armageddon," an episode of Star Trek’s original series, Captain Kirk and company transport to a planet engaged in war. There, the two battling civilizations have eliminated the violence and devastation of war. Instead of weapons, computer simulations choose victims who report like sheep to disintegration chambers for sanitized execution. When his crew is chosen as casualties, Kirk destroys the computers, leaving the inhabitants the choice of making peace or waging real war with ancient weapons of mass destruction. Although the exact dialogue doesn’t come to mind, it is something like:
“Do you know what you’ve just done, Captain?”
“Yes. I’ve just given you a taste of war – real war.”
There is a real war raging in
As television boosts the gung-ho incentive for Americans to plant their collective feet on an enemy’s derriere in mighty fashion, let it never be forgotten that human lives and destruction are the price of real war. Inevitably and tragically, many of the lives lost will be innocent victims, including children.
There is another element of war never to be forgotten: it is to the Creator that people in many countries offer their prayers for guidance and safety, for all of those in uniform and their families. If, as many believe, an intervention from above puts an end to man's folly and inhumanity to his fellow man, it might very well be the subject of another television event. Talk about shock and awe.
This is a very unusual lyric. Most of my lyrics are country songs, ballads, pop, even blues, but I woke up one morning with a very mideastern drumbeat in my head, "TUM tata tatata tata ta TUM." The lyrics below followed. Perhaps if you read it and think of music from a Sinbad movie or a slow belly dance with finger cymbols, you can hear what I hear when I read it.
The Desert of My Heart © 2008 Steve Anthony All rights reserved.
[V1]
From the desert of my heart the longing comes.
I've been too long, here in the burning sun.
The water of your love is my goal;
so I can cool the arid depths within my soul.
The vision that is you is my mirage.
It fills my mind and paints a vast montage;
of memories we shared, that now are torn apart,
emblazoned, on the desert of my heart.
[Refrain]
I need you
I need you
I need you
To rescue me from the desert of my heart.
[V2]
From the land of a thousand burning, blazing suns,
the yearning never stops when evening comes.
The water of your love is what I need,
to stop this burning desire inside of me.
The loveliness of you is my mirage.
It fills my mind and paints a vast montage;
of memories we shared, that now are torn apart,
emblazoned on the desert of my heart.
[Refrain]
I need you.
I need you.
I need you.
To rescue me from the desert of my heart.
[Tag]
Come rescue me, from the desert of my heart.
