Ferngully: The Last Rainforest

"Ferngully: The Last Rainforest" was released in an era of "Captain Planet" and "The Reading Rainbow," among other shows and films serving the dual purpose of entertaining and educating the generation soon-to-be-called the Millennials. "Ferngully" is, as the title suggests, an environmentally-themed movie, and yet despite the famous film's message, Generation Millennial seems to be stuck between not buying cars and overracting to the banning of DHMO. But enough about that.  There's more to the movie than just the environment, as "Ferngully" serves as sort of a nostalgic trophy for the Millennials (and how could it not--it even has a song by Raffi.)  

Samantha Mathis provides the voice of Crysta, a fairy bored of the stories of humans destroying the last rainforest and instead desperately wanting to see an actual human (though the stories she is told say that humans no longer exist). Her wish finally comes true when she encounters humans; one of them is a young boy named Zak (Jonathan Ward), spray-painting away at the trees ready to be cut down. To save his life from a falling tree (which he helped cut), Crysta shrinks him, but now must make things right and send him back again. This being the case, it seems that the two of them fancy each other; even though he's a human and she's a fairy, he tries to teach her some of the great American slang the 80s and 90s added to our lexicon, such as "bodacious babe" (wasn't funny then; not funny now). The chemistry isn't going well, particularly because Zak is responsible for cutting down her home. But he's a city boy, and while it doesn't take him too long to comprehend the fact that he has been shrunk to the size of a bug and is talking to fairies, he has a harder time understanding the need to protect the environment. "How can you live without trees?" she asks him.  That's a good question for all of us as we watch a movie like this. Reading Al Gore's groundbreaking "Earth in the Balance," one gets a sense of alarm, that humans should shake off their apathetic laziness and turn off the air conditioning, get rid of the car, and plant a tree. Except that book was written in 1992, the same year that "Ferngully" was released, and so his scenes of fishing boats forever trapped in a vast ocean of sand are only becoming more prevalent.  (Incidentally, 1992 was also the year Gore was elected vice-president.)

With that in mind, some will say that this kind of environmental "propaganda" has no place for children. Perhaps then, the movie had and will have a limited audience. After all, this is a cartoon about tree-hugging fairies who don't have jobs--not exactly the things that make conservatives happy. But as entertainment, it gets much better as it goes, despite a rough start. The exposition is a bit silly, but then again, most mythology stories are. In the early scenes, its animation is too often not as ambitious as that seen around the same time from Disney. But at times it does provide some wonder, particularly the evening scenes when the characters climb through the forest and such.  (This movie is the original "Avatar.")

Unfortunately, it's not particularly humorous, even with Robin Williams, Cheech and Chong.  Robin Williams' character, Batty, a fruit bat who has survived a torturous ordeal under the probing of scientists, is a character way too arbitrary, even for Williams. Eventually, the character becomes more likable and fitting, especially his musical rap scene.  (1992 was also the year Williams dominated in Disney's "Aladdin" as the Genie.)  The villain here is not some lion or evil witch, but greedy human beings. The personification of their economics, though, is Hexxus, some kind of oil demon, controlling the "monster that ate the trees." Tim Curry, the man who gave us Pennywise the Clown, might be at his creepiest in this form, easily morphing his voice from one octave to another as he sings about oil, acid rain, and capitalism. Curry has that frightening devilishness he famously displayed in "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" and is at his best here as the villain.

The climax, featuring the epic battle between Zack and the fairies of Ferngully versus Hexxus and human machinery, lags and wears on bit in an unexciting fashion. But I have to admit ultimately liking the film then and now. On a scale, it falls short of an animated environmentally-themed masterpiece like "Princess Mononoke" but is far better than "Happy Feet." Overall, it's fun, educational, and, as any movie about the environment inevitably is, depressing. But it ends on a hopeful note, and even though "Ferngully: The Last Rainforest" is twenty years old, perhaps the Millennials and other generations will heed its call, particularly the final dedication which also serves somewhat as a warning: "For our children and our children's children."

Movies, movies, theater, cinema, watch, watching, watches, view,  see, saw, cinema,  film, flick, motion picture, FernGully, Tim Curry, Robin Williams, 1992, animated, Cheech and Chong, environment, Hexxus

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The Grey

It's my understanding that the perception of the wolf has evolved from two different areas. One (seen in Rome and Japan) viewed the wolf as god-like; in the other (European nations), the wolf is associated with malevolence. Unfortunately, "The Grey" takes the latter view of wolves. At a time when wolves are greatly perceived as being far more dangerous than they are--with occasional attacks in India and the former Soviet nations and only one fatal attack in North America in the past decade--"The Grey" unfairly portrays wolves as malicious man-hunters that can kill by the dozens.

Fortunately, that was practically all I disliked about it, for "The Grey" is surprisingly suspenseful, ignoring most cliches while providing lots of suspense and thrills. Take a look at its silly trailer and compare it to its practically Hitchcockian way of presenting the situations. These characters are lost in the Alaskan wild, and the blistering cold is the least of their concerns: there be wolves about them, and they are vicious and numerous. Beyond the wolves, there are several ways to die in the wild, not to mention compromising with other lost, angry, scared survivors. The crash scene reminded me a lot about "Lost" with its famous opening crash scene, and then I thought about how in "Lost," while the characters may have been running from smoke monsters, polar bears, and all sorts of stuff, they were still on a tropical island with apparently loads of conditioner and only needed to really worry about the occasional sand in their shoes. Not so in the frozen north, in which the only food you eat is a wild animal you might be able to kill. According to Liam Neeson, the film's star, it was -40 degrees during the filming in British Columbia and the blizzard was not accomplished with CGI effects.

Neeson is John Ottaway, a man hired by oil companies to protect workers from wolves. His wife has left him, and he is suicidal. The call of the wild (literally) changes his mind; he lives another day, to enter the fray and the fight. Now lost in the wilderness with only several other survivors, he more or less is the leader of the group, though there is the expected amount of competition over what to do. Some of the other survivors are played by Dermot Mulroney, Frank Grillo, and Dallas Roberts.
 
There are some additional flaws in the film. There is almost one "oh-come-on" moment after another, with several plot holes involved. Someone kept asking me afterward why they didn't simply stay put near the plane wreckage. But how thrilling would that be? The wolves aren't going to chase them in circles for two hours. Thus, a certain amount of suspension of disbelief is required, and it works in ways similar to other man-versus-wild films like "Jaws." You're frightened of the animals, but you can't hardly blame them for ripping people to shreds. But the film's grittiness and scares almost become gratuitous.

Neeson has been able to successfully reinvent himself numerous times, and now he is undoubtedly the toughest guy in the movies. He has several similar intimidating moments here, at one point threatening to beat a fellow survivor to the point where he will be choking on his own blood and another where he goes head to head with an alpha male wolf. As mentioned, Neeson has noted the terrible filming conditions in merciless cold. One day, according to Neeson, Nonso Anozie, who plays one of the survivors, started to recite Shakespeare at the top of his lungs and the experience happened to warm them. This has made me think of "King Lear." Upon relinquishing his kingdom to his ungrateful daughters, Lear went into a terrible storm. Allegorically, the storm represents the chaos Britain is in because his kingdom is divided. He is insignificant in such circumstances; he is mad. Mad indeed, "mad that thrusts in the tameness of a wolf..."  

Movies, movies, theater, cinema, watch, watching, watches, view,  see, saw, cinema,  film, flick, motion picture, Liam Neeson, The Grey, wolves, wolf, LOST, Jaws 

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The NeverEnding Story

Alice: "I see nothing."
Cheshire Cat: "My.  You have good eyes."

In Wolfgang Peterson's "The NeverEnding Story," we have a motherless son whose father doesn't understand him; he's bullied into a trash can and daydreams of unicorns in spite of being afraid of horses. Clearly unable to fit in, he receives a nasty tirade from an angry bookstore owner about "small rectangular things" called books that clearly a boy like him wouldn't be interested in. He insists that he is, and "borrows" the book and runs to school. Afraid of his math test, he hides in the school's attic to read "The NeverEnding Story."

Though Bastian, the boy book thief, is missing his math test, things could be worse: Nothingness could be destroying his existence. This is the situation the people of Fantasia of "The NeverEnding Story" find themselves in. Nothing is destroying them. A dark pit of nothing is the enemy here--not some witch or warlock or evil eye.  Pick your metaphor; perhaps it represents cancer, or nuclear proliferation, or something else (an explanation is given, one that adults will find a bit silly). Hamlet famously pondered if he should be or not be, but the characters of Fantasia aren't as hesitant: Atreyu, a young warrior, is chosen, even though he is only a pre-teenager. He has no idea how to stop the Nothing, but he journeys anyways.

Atreyu has challenges, and it's quite the journey to seek out an answer nearly impossible to find. The Greek philosopher Parmenides argued that nothingness is impossible, because everyone speaks of something that, in some sense, exists. For Atreyu, this is irrelevant. Something is Nothing, and it's killing his home; Nothing is the enemy, and Nothing is everywhere. In the meantime, he has to deal with a whole host of other problems, including a malicious wolf chasing him.

Heavens to Betsy, there are actual sets here (instead of green screens), makeup effects and puppetry (as opposed to CGI animation), and matte paintings (instead of something that somebody punched into a computer). From the opening moment of our introduction to Fantasia, we are met with wondrous things: a snail-racer (Deep Roy) and an odd goblin-like creature (Tilo Pruckner) discussing the terrible situation with a giant, talking rock (voiced by Alan Oppenheimer, who provides the voice for numerous other characters). They're hardly in the rest of the film. I first watched "The NeverEnding Story" as a boy years ago, and this time I got chills down my spine watching it, even though I hardly remembered the scenes (more on that later).

"The NeverEnding Story" is not as visually stunning as "Legend," and this movie shows the limitations of puppetry and non-computer generated imagery. There is a dumb-looking dog-dragon, who creepily winks at Atreyu after mentioning to him that Atreyu talks in his sleep. This "dragon" frequently rescues Atreyu, making it deus ex machina at its worst.  As far as performances, it's a fairly likable and believable performance from Barret Oliver as the young boy reading the story, though most of the screen time features Noah Hathaway as Atreyu. Hathaway is fine as Atreyu, though his intonation always seems to follow the same pattern when he says something like "WOW! LOOK at the DRAgon!"

Children will like the film, if they can tolerate the fact that they've already seen various different stories just like it. There are numerous cliches in it: witches and wizards, a boy on a quest, a land called Fantasia, and a bunch of strange creatures that look like their next stop is the Cantina from "Star Wars." The scenes that really work are the ones that present something new to the genre: like a humorous scene involving an archaic tortoise who's allergic to youth, and another quite dark one involving the Swamps of Sadness. In this scene, if sadness overtakes those who enter, they sink into the swamp. There's nobody there to clap and make one's pet come back to life, but it's still a fairly enjoyable movie.

        

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The Iron Lady

When we first meet Margaret Thatcher in "The Iron Lady," she is not commanding the British Navy into battle or lecturing her opponents or cabinet. She is not offering a lofty defense of the principles she so dearly believes in. Instead, she is quite old, sneaking out of the house to buy some milk, and returning home to complain about the price changes to her husband, Denis. The trouble is, Denis isn't there. He's dead, and has been for some years. As Britain is attacked by al-Qaeda, she shouts that Britain "must never give in to terrorists," but is brushed aside when someone asks if it's warm inside.

Do we really need these scenes of post-politician Thatcher, depicting her suffering from dementia? The scenes didn't strike me as insensitive so much as odd, reminiscent of the fantasy hospital scenes in "Angels in America" with Streep as a deceased Ethel Rosenberg haunting a dying Roy Cohn, but with Streep this time as the latter figure. If anything, they at least provide Streep with more opportunities to show just how committed she was to this role. So perhaps they are justified. But why the World War II flashbacks? Why the irrelevance? Why not have the other elements of the film match the perfect performance by Meryl Streep, instead of making them so lackluster?

Still, this movie is Meryl Streep's. We see Streep in a variety of different human qualities: ambition, arrogance, humility, fear, revenge, bitterness, peace. Forgive me for the cliche, but I had to frequently remind myself that I was watching Meryl Streep and not Margaret Thatcher. Streep's performances by now are so well-known: "Kramer vs. Kramer," "Manhattan," and "The Deer Hunter," "Silkwood," "A Cry in the Dark," "Sophie's Choice," "Out of Africa," "Postcards from the Edge," "Adaptation," "The Devil Wears Prada," "Mamma Mia!" and "Julie & Julia." If it were announced that she were to play Superman or James Bond I would not protest or question. Here it is impossible not to be captivated by her. And if Streep doesn't win, it will be a great tragedy.

As Thatcher she is the uncompromising enemy of compromise. We see her hallucinations turning frightening, as Denis (Jim Broadbent) is taunting her and encouraging (or provoking) her to drink more. We see her rise through parliament, where, if you were shocked by the "you lie!" moment several years ago in Congress, you should see a British Parliament session. (With all due respect to my British friends, why is there a man in a funny wig yelling "ord-ah! ord-ah!" if the politicians don't shut up?) The scenes with her as prime minister are more interesting, perhaps because it fits my typical liberal view of seeing Thatcher as a villain, and the scenes with her as an elder suffering do not. Anyway, it is easy to see this film through any prism you like. Conservatives, American and British alike, will appreciate the glory days of conservatism and the defense of free-market and tough foreign policy principles. Liberals, likewise, will get to see Thatcher as the villain they've always wanted; there's even a strange scene where she glides, whereas the gentlemen around her walk.

I could write for hours about Streep's performance, but unfortunately there are other aspects to this movie which must be discussed. Streep is directed by her "Mamma Mia!" director Phyllida Lloyd, who tries really hard, as do many other things in this film, but to no avail. Compare the non-linear storytelling of "We Need to Talk About Kevin," which is enigmatic and effective, to that of this movie, which seems formulaic, precisely what a movie like this shouldn't be. The make-up effects are exceptional, and the script is somewhat intelligent, and there are some unique shots, such as her first day at parliament, a drop of blue in a sea of dark suits. This is a movie that tries, but it simply either tries too hard or not hard enough.

Finally, the consensus seems to be now that there is no consensus on who will win this year's Best Actress award. The Oscars will likely use two biases against her: 1) the movie is mediocre at best and for that reason above all else she shouldn't get it, and 2) Meryl Streep is so good all the time that it's best to just give it to someone else this year.

Academy Awards, give the Oscar to her!

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Happy New Year!

Happy New Year, and I'd like to say how grateful I am that I have helped people find information on nude Arabian womens, a nude John Cleese, and a full frontal Tony Curtis. 

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The Year Without a Santa Claus

"The Year Without a Santa Claus" is predictably about a hypothetical curious, furious, fidgety, terrible year where Santa decided to be like everyone else and take a vacation. If the setup is predictable, then so is most of what follows. From the beginning, the narration of Mrs. Claus (voiced by Shirley Booth) falls into an annoying rhythm. It's not a good start.

Santa Claus is sick this year with a nasty cold, and only last year he had near-pneumonia. Children don't give a hoot about Christmas or Santa, he is told by his pessimistic doctor (though the doctor still wishes him a Merry Christmas). It's clear that Santa needs a vacation, and he calls off the operations, throwing the North Pole into chaos. Mrs. Claus, though, will having nothing of it, and she does her best to insure that Christmas continues as usual.

Within fifteen minutes of the holiday television special from 1974, I began to wonder if nostalgia really is to blame for my admiration of other children's holiday films like "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reineer" and "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town," the predecessor to "The Year Without a Santa Claus." Can I really justify my liking of "Home Alone," a film I probably saw when I was four but a movie in which barely half of critics enjoyed? After all, I saw those other movies when I was a child, and I saw "The Year Without a Santa Claus" as an adult. Then I thought that this was probably not the case, for those films had serious thought and effort, whereas this one does not. "The Year Without a Santa Claus" simply doesn't have the novelty and imagination of its predecessor. The most the filmmakers could come up with in this film is Mrs. Claus dressed in drag fantasizing about delivering presents instead of her husband, and that just isn't quite the same as the charm and likability of Fred Astaire's voice acting in "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town." Even the honking penguin had more charisma than Jingle and Jangle, the annoying humorless elf duo who have become the Jar Jar Binks of holiday specials. Even Mickey Rooney as the voice of Santa (a role he provided for in four animated holiday specials) sounds more tired in this one.

I don't want to call a movie that utilizes the exhausting process of stop motion effects (or "claymation") lazy.  But if only the story and music writers could have matched the hard work of the animators, for there seems to be a lack of effort than was required.  The redeeming moments involve the Miser Brothers--dueling brothers of nature voiced by Dick Shawn as the Snow Miser and George S. Irving as the Heat Miser, singing and dancing in the film's only memorable parts (though to today's audiences the former calling the latter a "flaming fool" might raise eyebrows).  A lot of the scenes in this movie take place in a boring town in California (though the child actor providing the voice of the young boy insists on making him sound like they're in the Bronx), whereas the scenes of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" featured scenes of winter wonderlands and European towns of centuries ago.  Think of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town," "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer," and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and the other holidays specials of old and you likely will remember not only various moments from them but also a large amount of the songs.  Not so with "The Year Without a Santa Claus."


On second thought I have the Miser's songs stuck in my head.  Better than anything out of the mouths of Jingle and Jangle.

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Bottoms

Every once and a while there comes along a film that totally makes you speechless. And if it's about walking buttocks, than perhaps this is one of them.

In 1966, Yoko Ono released a five-and-a-half minute video consisting exclusively of nude bottoms; according to IMDb, she meant this to be a dialogue for world peace. She made it with her then-husband Anthony Cox, and according to the credits their daughter Kyoto Ono Cox is involved, which would mean she was about three at the time. To Yoko Ono the film is referred to as "No. 4." Since its release, however, it has been known simply as "Bottoms." It was a time of experimental and minimalism movie making--the period of Andy Warhol and George Landow. Ono and husband John Lennon would direct "Fly," a forty-five minute following of a fly crawling on a woman's body.

I have never had more difficulty in writing a review than attempting to do so for a five-and-a-half minute film about naked asses.  There's no acting (is there?).  Nothing really to mention about the cinematography.  No screenplay.  I presume the direction consisted of Ono telling her nude performers to shift their cheeks and such.  I admire the advocacy of peace and dialogue; I'm not sure how naked rear-ends achieves those goals.

I don't know much about Yoko Ono but I've never bought the myth that she ruined the Beatles (and he can confirm it for me).  If you've seen Martin Scorsese's new documentary on George Harrison, many of the interviewers, including Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney, argue that Harrison felt that the Beatles were keeping him down, and that his motivation to write his own music, along with the general tiring the group members had of each other, contributed more to the band's breakup than anything Ono did.  I don't know enough about her art to say if she has made any lasting impact; at least I have seen "No. 4."

According to a writer on IMDb who remembers seeing the premiere decades ago, a UK critic wrote that "Bottoms" was only temporarily relieved by the occasional glimpse of scrotum.    

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The Ides of March

"The Ides of March have come."
"Ay, Caesar; but not gone."

This is a most unique political tale. Every once and a while, there's a candidate to restore law and order, to never lie to us, to be the man from Hope, to be a uniter and not a divider, and to be the change we have been waiting for. While there is one side that generally sides with loyalty and discipline, another is disorganized, panicky and whiny. The latter side needs some growing up, and if the latter side is American liberalism, and George Clooney's "The Ides of March" is a movie by, of and (some would argue) for liberals, so this might be a good film to provide some needed medicine.

Ryan Gosling is Stephen Myers, a young and successful campaign adviser to Mike Morris (George Clooney), the governor of Pennsylvania and a popular candidate for president. While Morris is in the lead against his rival for the Democratic nomination, both campaigns are dueling in the must-win state of Ohio, while also trying to secure the endorsement of a North Carolina senator (Jeffrey Wright). Myers is not only intelligent but likable, unlike his boss, Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who despises the campaign manager (Paul Giamatti) of Morris's opponent. What would seem like a rather predictable and more boring version of the 1993 documentary "The War Room" suddenly evolves during the second act into a much more unsettling film. Myers is courted by the rival campaign, while trying to bury a scandal that could destroy his own.

There are several accolades in terms of acting that should be given. As a director, Clooney not only has done a fine job of guiding these actors but simultaneously has delivered yet another stellar performance. Ryan Gosling, its star, has gradually improved in each of his films this year--from annoyingly playing a hot shot stud in the terribly overrated "Crazy Stupid Love" to delivering a solid performance in the mediocre "Drive" to finally being in a movie that matches its quality with his impressive acting. Additionally, in smaller roles, Hoffman and Giamatti do their characters justice as rivaling campaign managers. Particularly stunning is Evan Rachel Wood, a young intern engaged in a affair with Myers; her character starts with almost a Jean Harlow grin and a bit of strawberry in her hair, but as the film progresses she's given the opportunity to show more depth. 

Remarkably though, despite its twist, pessimism, and score, "The Ides of March" seems less relevant, powerful and worthwhile than Clooney's attempt at recreating McCarthyism and journalism's reaction to it in "Good Night, and Good Luck" from 2005. "The Ides of March" isn't as good as "Good Night, and Good Luck," and at times it doesn't seem to be trying hard enough to be. It takes up silly little trivial pursuit tidbits, like Rush Limbaugh's strategy to have Republicans vote in the Ohio primary for Hillary Clinton to derail Obama's campaign in 2008, and Morris's campaign signs look awfully similar to Obama's. While Clooney's character is probably the most interesting, he also seems the most farcical. Still, for its direction, acting and overall story, it is a commendable movie.   

In many respects, Clooney's Morris is a nostalgia of everything liberals liked about Obama before his presidency: the idealism, the honesty, the bravery in taking difficult choices. For Obama it was a denunciation of indefinite detention or not falling for the gasoline tax holiday gimmick; for Morris it's not selling out to the religiosity of America's voters or promising potential supporters cabinet positions for their support. In other ways, it's a defense of Obama's pragmatism, mocking at times youthful idealism in one singular candidate and then sitting back and waiting for results. But at other times, it's a warning that all politicians, even Mr. Nice Guy Barack Obama who hails for the hardliner tactics of Chicago politics, are likely to not hesitate when it comes to the stomach-churning toughness of politics. Gosling's Myers grows up quickly in this movie, and the American public with its non-stop criticism of flawed politicians, had better do so soon.

Two final notes. There's been an almost "Inception"-like discussion over what happens at the end. I've done my best to avoid revealing the twist, which I think is a good one and ultimately, no film's twist ever deserves to be ruined by anyone. Without revealing it, I can only remind audience members after they view it that politics is the art of survival. Morris is a survivalist, as is his young protege Myers. It does not make sense for Myers to act against his own interest in an illogical or irrational manner. If he would, it would go entirely against Clooney's thesis here. Second, while the movie was mostly filmed in Michigan, it takes place in Ohio and some college campus like my cousin's school Xavier University and my beloved ulma mater Kent State University make some cameos.

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Some Notable Things About "King's Row"

"King's Row" is a popular 1942 film from Warner Bros. directed by Sam Wood, starring Ann Sheridan, Robert Cummings, and Ronald Reagan. It is noted for its juxtaposition of small-town American simplicity and dark, hypocritical undertones. Among other notable factors are its famous score, the conflicts it had with the Hay's Code, and its star, Ronald Reagan. Of the film, Reagan said it was a "slightly sordid yet moving yarn" that "made [him] a star."

1. The music

Anyone who has seen "King's Row" has likely recognized the main melody of Eric Wolfgang Korngold's score to be remarkably similar to arguably John William's most famous score from "Star Wars." While Williams' is deeper and more diverse, especially as the trilogy progressed, it is well-known that the score of "King's Row" served as a chief inspiration for "Star Wars," particularly the first five notes.

2. The Hay's Code

The original 1940 novel by Henry Bellamann featured a number of taboo topics--child nudity, sadism, incest, homosexuality, hypersexuality, and euthanasia--all of which were considered far too controversial for the screen. In fact, many of those involved with the film believed that the Hay's Code, the infamous censorship board from 1930 to the late 1960s, would prevent any possibility of "King's Row" making it to the screen. Joseph Breen, the head Production Code Authority, argued to the producers that putting Bellamann's novel to the screen would be a "very questionable undertaking from the standpoint of the good and welfare of this industry." Supposedly, the script was referred to Will Hays to decide the matter. Thus, as was the case with many films of the Hay's era, such as "Suddenly Last Summer" and "The Manchurian Candidate," these themes are only hinted at or completely disappear.


3. Ronald Reagan

Whether you view Reagan as the conservative messiah or the conservative anti-Christ, you have "King's Row" chiefly to thank. Reagan was a growing star by 1942, but "King's Row" is the one that, even he argued, made him a star. (Perhaps it is a great irony that President Trickle-down plays a crippled man who has been screwed over by the banks.)

It is difficult to argue that Reagan's acting was "good," but, as his son Ron has said, it wasn't bad. Instead, it largely followed the trends of the time--Reagan's performance in "King's Row" shows him laughing and smiling an awful lot and being quite theatrical. To his credit, he supposedly sought out to learn about the experiences of people with disabilities and doctors for his pivotal scene. 1942 was before the new wave of more in-depth acting from actors like James Dean, who acted with Reagan at the very beginning of Dean's career.

Regardless, it is quite interesting to see the former president on the big screen, especially to those generations who never knew Reagan as an actor.

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What Kind of Teachers Are at Hogwarts?

I solemnly sweat that this is my last article about the "Harry Potter" films...


An essential book for instructors of any kind is "Setting Limits in the Classroom," a classroom management book by Robert MacKenzie.  Unfortunately, classroom management is hardly, if ever, taught in university programs for teacher candidates, yet it is one of the most vital aspects of teaching.  MacKenzie offers simple explanations of the different types of disciplinarians in the classroom, what kind is the most effective, and how to develop a discipline plan that reflects it.

As I read MacKenzie's book, I couldn't help but think about its applicability to the world's most famous teachers: the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thus, what follows is an analysis of classroom management based on the teachers of the "Harry Potter" series.

Sybill Trelawney (The Permissive Teacher) (Portrayed by Emma Thompson in the films)

Aside from a dismal record of making false predictions, Professor Trelawney isn't much of an effective teacher or effective classroom manager.

Imagine if a police officer pulled someone over for running a red light.  The police officer pleads with the driver: "Driving past a red light is very dangerous.  I'm concerned about your safety.  Next time, could you please obey the traffic laws?  Okay?"  This isn't how you would expect a police officer to do his job, and you wouldn't expect a teacher to perform her job this way either.  This is the example MacKenzie uses to describe the permissive teacher.

The rise of permissive teachers came about in the later half of the 20th century in reaction to the stricter classroom management style of before.  The classroom was to be more democratic, with students given more of a role in classroom management.  But democracy without rules isn't democracy--it's anarchy.

Unfortunately, many teachers (myself included) start off as permissive teachers.  There is a desire to be liked by the students, and teachers tend to think that being liked and being respected is a two-for-one deal.  Alas, it isn't.  Students often start the semester not necessarily with respect, but with research.  That is, students are constantly researching to see what kind of disciplinarian their teachers will be.  When students test the teacher and find that no consequences are given for violating the rules, the students have nothing to fear.

In the "Harry Potter" series, Professor Trelawney is one such teacher.  When Hermione loses her temper in class, she storms out of the classroom, knocks Trelawney's magic ball to the floor, and there is no consequence for her action.  Trelawney simply shrugs it off; "Was it something I said?" she asks.  Instead of letting Hermione off the hook, Trelawney didn't need to show anger or a loss of temper, but instead she could have given Hermione a choice, and if Hermione were to choose the wrong behavior, a consequence would be given.  This will be elaborated on later.

Severus Snape (The Autocratic Teacher) (Portrayed by Alan Rickman in the films)   


Imagine that same traffic violation scenario.  Instead of pleading, the officer immediately removes the driver from the car, smacks him over the head with a club, and forces his face down on the hood of the car while the driver is handcuffed.  This is how, according to MacKenzie, an autocratic teacher reacts, or rather overreacts, to situations.  There is a high amount of anger, personal feelings, and being unfair.


This is exactly what kind of teacher Snape is.  Sure, he saved Harry thousands of times and loved his mother, and blah blah blah.  But as a teacher, while it can't be doubted that he is exceptionally intelligent, he rules the classroom with an iron fist.  He frequently insults Harry over his "cheek" and calls Hermione an "insufferable know-it-all."  He even from time to time relies on physical force, thrusting his students' heads down into their books.

J.K. Rowling agrees with this characterization of Snape as a teacher, remarking that the "worst, shabbiest thing you can do as a teacher is to bully students."  An autocratic teacher can be very cruel, to the point where students don't respect the teacher but instead despise him.  This can lead to unnecessary power struggles between the teacher and student, as is the case between Snape and Harry.

("Severus" is Latin for "stern," which is where the word "severe" comes from.)

 Minerva McGonagall (The Democratic Teacher) (Portrayed by Maggie Smith in the films)   


Some teachers are permissive, too nice and leading a class with no demand for respect or consequences and a high probability of burnout by the end of the year.  Some teachers are too autocratic, acting as a dictator does with overreaction and fear.  Some teachers shift between one or the other, perhaps starting off as a kind of permissive teacher, and then when things are obviously out of control, the teacher evolves into an autocratic teacher.  The worst of both worlds are combined.


Some teachers, though, get it right: a firm, yet respectful approach.  The respectful aspect is rather simple.  Respect all the students as learners and human beings, be fair and treat all students with the same expectations regarding behavior.  With the firm aspect, the teacher makes the rules and expectations clearly understood from day one, but just as important are the consequences for what happens when those rules are violated.  That's the easy part; the harder part is following through.  If a teacher gives a warning, then a consequence should be given if the rules are violated again.  This is called by MacKenzie the democratic approach: give students a choice, and follow through if the poor choice is taken.


The teacher that embraces this type of teaching is Professor Minerva McGonagall.  When teaching a spell called transfiguration, she warns her students that "anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back.  You have been warned."  She has allowed her students to make a choice, and the consequence is one that will likely not lead to any damaged relationships or power struggles.  She has shown evidence of following through with her consequences, as she requires both Ron and Harry to stay in detention when they act foolishly.  She treats her students equally, being impartial when Harry accuses Draco of being responsible for dark activity in the school.


There you have it.  If you're a teacher and unsure how to lead your classroom, when in doubt, look to Hogwarts.      


   

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