“Dr. Benway: ‘You young squirts couldn’t lance a pimple without an electric vibrating scalpel with automatic drain and suture…Soon we’ll be operating by remote control on patients we never see…We’ll be nothing but button pushers. All the skill is going out of surgery….All the know-how and make-do…Did I ever tell you about the time I performed an appendectomy with a rusty sardine can? And once I was caught short without an instrument and removed a uterine tumour with my teeth.”
Jackie Shane (born Jack Shane) was born in Nashville in 1940 abandoned by his 16-year-old unmarried mother being brought up by relatives. By eight years of age he was singing in a church choir adding to his musical background of spiritual music played often by his grandmother. Shane purchased some drums to start his musical career and took off quickly in the Nashville scene of the 1950’s. Shane had an early feminine streak and his musical career enabled Jack to become Jackie and as success blessed her the wardrobe increased in size as well as an enormous jewellery collection. The wardrobe was androgenous and never mega drag queen.
Skilled playing the drums she was a studio musician for many well-known acts recording in Nashville and singing and drumming in Nashville clubs she took on the name “Little Jackie”. She was friends with Little Richard also like Jackie black and gay. It was dreadful being black in the southern United States and adding to that queer it was even more dangerous.
Shane joined a travelling carnival travelling throughout the United States singing in a tent ending up one day with the carnival in Cornwall, Ontario. She set off to Montreal becoming a smashing success on the Main. Shane was kidnapped by the Montreal Mafia, owners of most of the clubs on the Main. The offer was made to make her a star on the understanding the Mafia would own her. Declining the “offer” she continued her Montreal shows with the Frank Motely Band. Then to Boston with Motely to a huge success with crowds in the street listening to her performance on loudspeakers. The again with Motely to Toronto taking that city by storm playing in a variety of clubs. Shane by 1961 considered Toronto her home. Toronto was not without racism but it was a far cry from the South.
Shane was so popular buses would roll in to Toronto from Buffalo and Detroit full of eager fans. It was her 1963 hit “Any Other Way” that took her as far as she would go. With the lyrics in that song, “Tell her I’m happy. Tell her I’m gay. I would not have it any other way.” Shane was to thank her character “Jackie” for letting her escape from the closet making her happy and unafraid. Shane wanted success her way and refused offers to be in the Ed Sullivan Show and American Bandstand. Sullivan wanted restrictions on wardrobe and lyrics unacceptable to Shane and American Bandstand had only token and segregated blacks dancing over in the corner from the white kids and at the time no black audience members. There is almost no actual footage of Shane other than a performance on “Night Train” a short-lived late night musical show in Nashville.
Off to Pasadena with her lover Dan Matlock in 1971 and then in 1978 she returned to Nashville to care for her ailing stepmother and stepfather. She became a recluse after their death. Then in 2016 a double album set of her recordings was released and a Grammy nomination ensued in 2019 for Best Historical Album and tentative plans for a Toronto, New York and Los Angeles tour. Shane died before her rebirth and thanks to this documentary her name is up on the marquee again.
I can only imagine Sinatra and Shane singing “My Way” as those words sum up the career of Jackie Shane.
Writers and Directors are Michael Mabbot and Lucah Rosenberg-Lee.
Holly Powell (Kelly Sullivan) no longer acts a district attorney preferring to establish a new criminal law practice. She has put an assortment of nasty criminals behind bars and accordingly has made enemies by the guilty incarcerated and their aggrieved family members. One such guilty incarcerated is Judge Halstead. Yes a judge convicted of murder (of his ex-wife) who never confessed to the murder but nonetheless was found guilty by jury.
Juicy indeed when Holly appears on a television show “Real Crime” hosted by Dale Jones (Brian Krause). Jones aggressively confronts Holly over the Halstead case infuriating her. After the show Holly is tasered walking from her car to her front door and the mystery begins and the “badness” escalates. A note was left on her slumped body stating, “Your turn to lose someone”.
Multi-millionaire Theo (Corin Nemec) newly arrived to Biloxi to develop some golf course property is attracted to the busy Holly. Is he lurking the background with malicious intent? Then the “incidents” continue and escalate in violence with kidnapping and murder. Who is the perpetrator and what are the motives? The plot is believable but hardly enthralling.
Nemec is absolutely convincing as a debonair Theo but good or evil? Krause as Dale plays the role to a tee being a slightly sleazy journalist. Sullivan as Holly is both hot and cold entirely convincing in her role as a lawyer or acting lawyerly but outside those confines her performance is inconsistent particularly the poorly choregraphed knife scene. Marco St. John as James Powell is more difficult to peg with his stilted performance which borders on the awful more often than not. Being a veteran of the stage, he fails to convince as a screen actor with an overemphasized theatrical delivery. St. John has proven his talent over his long career but being fair here he is victimized by casting.
The writing is somewhat askew suffering from ill timing. Directed by Karyn Klein.
Director Tamara Segura invites the viewer of the National Film Board of Canada’s documentary “Seguridad” to travel through modern Cuban history, current Cuban life and most importantly through a scarring journey of her life as a child in Cuba. Through her memories, discussions with relatives and documents and photos the emotional journey will be taken.
Director and storyteller Tamara Segura
The journey begins with her grandmother explaining fleeing to the safety of the rebel-controlled mountains awaiting the conclusion of Fidel Castro’s successful revolution. Segura’s father, Jorge, completed his military training and enrolled in university obtaining a degree in mathematics eventually teaching the subject. Well respected by his professorial colleagues he married shortly after university graduation.
Tamara was born on the anniversary date of the Revolution winning recognition through territorial militias as “tender fruit of the Cuban Revolution” as one Cuban newspaper referred to her as. At her birth she was named an honorary member of a territorial militia making her “Cuba’s youngest soldier”. The celebratory party in the family continued for a month with a plenitude of liquor. But Jorge just kept on imbibing becoming increasingly violent fortunately focused on house trashing more than physical violence.
Segura’s mother divorced Jorge as his violence had escalated to an intolerable level. Segura drifted away from her father but she remained extremely close with her paternal grandmother. Jorge did have a photographic hobby with a makeshift developing room which also served as a laundry room. Segura was his favourite subject.
Segura accepted a filmmaking scholarship in Montreal in 2010 tired of being called Cuba’s youngest soldier and always waiting for her father she made the escape to Canada. While in Montreal after not hearing from her father for years she received a letter of apology from him sending her into a rage. She responded with an angry letter stating her early memories of him were neglect often caused by familial efforts to manage his drunken violence. Yes, we are all cursing the cad of a man.
Segura returned to Cuba some 4 years later for a visit hoping to set matters straight with Jorge but he died in an intensive care ward 5 days after she arrived. At this point are we saying good riddance. But then a shocking revelation about Jorge so fundamental it caused Segura to rethink her animosity and start on the road to forgiveness putting her in the position of facing her own revolution about her own life and Cuba.
Segura’s narration is lyrical and poetical but her life story raw and jagged. A story about secrets, abandonment, forgiveness and personal and societal betrayal. Follow her story, her pain and her rocky personal revolution.
Not being arrogant here but please give some thinking man horror now and then. Chainsaws, axes, slashing, screaming and overly poor ghoul jokes are material as you can see blood, guts and body parts flying to and fro. But true horror requires a mental element to it to chill. The chill might not be facing monsters but as in “The Coffee Table” facing reality.
Jesus (David Pareja) and Maria (Estefanía de los Santos) have just moved into a new flat shortly after the birth of their son Cayetano. In the course of decorating their flat they go to a furniture store to buy a coffee table. After marital argumentation a “Rorret” coffee table (Swedish in design and Chinese by manufacture!) is purchased the choice of Jesus. The glass topped table, promises the seedy, fast-talking salesman, will bring great happiness to the household.
Maria must head out for some shopping for a lunch with Jesus’s “pedo” brother Carlos (Josep Riera) and his teenage new flame Cristina (Claudia Riera). Cayetano is left with Jesus. A crash and breaking of glass is heard and Jesus is covered in blood and the baby silent. Bloody and horrific.
Jesus must face the reality of what just occurred. That reality is his horror. Postponing i.e. effective for a short time. Jesus is in moral and physical agony. Just above all human interaction over lunch is received in a distorted fashion by Jesus. This viewer feels apprehension after the shattering of the glass and mounting cold terror with the barking blood covered lapdog nosing under a sofa for the unthinkable.
Co-writer and director Cay Casas says,” I can only assure one thing to audiences, if you like strong emotions, if you want to suffer like never before, if you want to feel real terror, The Coffee Table is your movie. You will not forget it, I promise.”
Anorexia in its extreme is a form of suicide by starvation. In a world where starvation is rampant, in Canada, the land of plenty, one quizzes themselves why starvation suicide by anorexia when millions would beg for sustenance instead of death? This may be one of the reasons anorexia is so incomprehensible to many. Step back folks and realize, if you haven’t already done so, anorexia is a psychiatric disease and in many respects would have similarity to drug addiction.
I noticed anorexia initially some 30 years ago when on my way to work I saw an emaciated woman reminding me of archival footage from Auschwitz. She was barely capable of walking but in a near trance was jogging or better said half stumbling at a furious pace. After a few weeks she disappeared from my morning routine. It was a haunting image I see all too frequently in the City of Toronto. The day before watching this short I drove home from some errands as schools were being let out. I saw three preteen skeletons walking home. Disturbing but over the years not unheard of.
In this documentary short the filmmaker, Eisha Marjara, recounts her teen experience with anorexia and the best I can determine the reasoning for her anorexia was fear of exiting childhood and becoming a woman, a depressed mother, relentless media adoration of “skinny”, sibling rivalry and low self esteem that transformed a “chubby Punjabi” into an anorexic.
Director Eisha Marjara
An interesting personal delve into anorexia of which we have been all too well schooled about. A brave and courageous exposé but excuse me it has been seen and heard about before so perhaps most valuable to newbies to anorexia. It is rather disturbing that many who are champions of sympathy and empathy for mental illness have no time for anorexics. While millions of starving citizens of the world would be dumfounded by anorexia enlightened North Americans call for treatment, compassion and empathy.
There is no resolution of the health and safety of Eisha Marjara in the documentary. Unsatisfactory documentary conclusion.
“He was a ritual tea smoker and very puritanical about junk the way some teaheads are. He claimed tea put him in touch with supra blue gravitational fields. He had ideas on every subject: what kind of underwear was healthy, when to drink water and how to wipe your ass. He had a shiny red face and great spreading smooth nose, little red eyes that lit up when he looked at a chick and went out when he looked at anything else. His shoulders were very broad and suggested deformity. He acted as if other men didn’t exist, conveying his restaurant and store orders to male personnel through a female intermediary. And no Man ever blighted his blighted secret place.”
“I deplore brutality,” he said. “It’s not efficient. On the other hand, prolonged mistreatment, short of physical violence, gives rise, when skillfully applied, to anxiety and a feeling of special guilt. A few rules or rather guiding principles are to be borne in mind. The subject must not realize that the mistreatment is a deliberate attack of an anti-human enemy on his personal identity. He must be made to feel that he deserves any treatment he receives because there is something (never specified) horribly wrong with him.”
“I made the round with him once for kicks. You know how old people lose all shame about eating, and it makes you puke to watch them? Old junkies are the same about junk. They gibber and squeal at the sight of it. The spit hangs off their chin, and their stomach rumbles and all their guts grind in peristalsis while they cook up, dissolving the body’s decent skin, you expect any moment a great blob of protoplasm will flop right out and surround the junk. Really disgust you to see it.”
Jessea Lu is a freediving champion who arrived in the United States from China on a student visa not knowing anyone nor having much money. Through rigorous training and great drive she became a freediving champion quite remarkable for both a woman and an Asian.
Freediving champion I am not but I have done my fair share of snorkeling and spearfishing the latter being a type of freediving. Freediving relies on the breath as opposed to tanks supplying oxygen for scuba divers. Freediving competitions involve diving to depths and then returning without having passed out. No crowds are in the stand as this is primarily a individual sport supported by coaching and safety teams.
If you are expecting a rah rah flag waving and uplifting story you will not find it in “7 Beats per Minute”. Lu is a champion and we can applaud her efforts but the documentary goes further and gets messy. Lu did not have a happy childhood. In fact it was miserable and it left great gaping scars which catch up with her and temporarily derail her. In this misery and loneliness freediving was a temporary emotional salve.
In 2018 while attempting record dive at Dean’s Blue Hole in the Bahamas Lu reached record depth but passed out before returning to the surface. Revived she survived noting this as an out of body experience with so much attention and care being shown to her she felt the experience a remedy for her broken soul. I suppose she felt part of a loving family unlike her childhood where at one point at 6 years of age her mother said she would be better dead than alive. This need to be in a caring family caused tension between Lu and filmmaker Yuqi Kang a boundary Kang felt uncomfortable with.
Lu realized her past demons were impeding her performances and she reached out to her verbally abusive mother receiving a rather weak apology which Lu took as a “huge reward”.
Moral of the story? Success in sport and life requires emotional balance. Misery may propel you to excellence initially but once that excellence is reached that broken soul you have may catch up with you.
And Lu has a PHD in pharmacology.
Tremendous underwater photography and soundtrack.
The documentary is a co-production between The National Film Board of Canada and Intuitive Pictures.
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity 