Disney/Pixar’s latest animated odyssey opens to a much bleaker world than the one outside the theater doors. A shell of abandoned satellites rings a wasted Earth mounded in trash and studded with spent nuclear reactors and empty cities. The sky has taken on a copper hue from the continual duststorms, and even the ultramodern transit systems and starports are empty and windblown. When the Earth’s pollution accumulated to an unlivable level, the humans boarded cruise-ships-to-the-stars and left an army of Waste Allocation Load Lifter-Earth Class robots to deal with the ruined planet.

The only problem is the project failed. Only one robot still works on, and he is lonely. WALL-E, voiced by Ben Burtt, toils cheerfully during the day, but spends his evenings wondering what it would be like to have a friend. Pollution-ruined robots dot the landscape, and WALL-E’s only companion is a cockroach.

When an inquisitive Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator, a gorgeous but sharp-tempered space probe named EVE, Elissa Knight, suddenly drops into his environment, he is instantly smitten. He takes her to his “home” to show her the oddities he has collected in his work. When she finds a seedling in his hoard, though, she collects the plant and goes into hibernation. When her carrier rocket returns to pick her up, WALL-E stows away as the spaceship leaves for the Crab Nebula.

When the robots and their precious plant reach the Axiom, an immense starship sheltering the human race, they encounter another troubled world. Waited on hand-and-foot by a crew of obsequious robot stewards, the humans have lived a life devoid of physical exertion or personal responsibility. They are unable even to act for their own good.

EVE’s plant, like the olive sprig the dove returned to Noah’s ark, indicates that Earth can support life again and humanity can return. The robots are not so ready to relinquish their power, and a colossal struggle erupts over who will control the plant. EVE and WALL-E must race against time to rouse the humans if they are ever to return to Earth.

WALL-E is a personable little robot, and his cheerful labor and innocent curiosity will endear him to viewers. EVE is initially cold, until she replays her memories of Earth for the starship captain and realizes the little things WALL-E did for her. Her subsequent devotion to WALL-E, who risks his life to recover the plant and complete her mission, is touching. It raises interesting questions about robot romances but plays out well in the movie.

The underlying themes are more problematic, though. Humans are depicted as finally having ruined the earth with nuclear reactors, oil tankers, satellites, and the excess of consumerism — symbolized by billboards on the moon. The film issues a strong indictment against modern society, portraying the human race as a selfish horde of consumers focused solely on leisure and entertainment. BNL, the global corporation that built and operates the Axiom, is actually short for “Buy-N-Large.” Every human on board the starship lives in a motorized hoverchair, their every whim supplied by the robot stewards. Virtual golf and tennis are common pastimes on the Axiom, but few of the grotesquely obese passengers even know that there is a real swimming pool aboard.

These adverse impressions are mitigated somewhat by a plot that pushes the humans finally to develop some muscle and that shows the environment finally becoming habitable again. Political jabs are less balanced, though. The briefing room of the White House is shown twice, with the BNL logo substituted for the Great Seal, as the former CEO of BNL, Fred Willard, issues disastrous advice in a heavy Texas accent, urging his listeners to “stay the course” in a not-so-subtle comparison to President Bush.

These environmental and societal premises have a decidedly alarmist slant, but the actual plotline balances it to a large degree. The characters are masterfully drawn, and Pixar’s animation is flawless as always. Taken altogether, “WALL-E” is a supremely entertaining film, with more serious themes. It will be enjoyed by all ages, and well deserves a place next to “Finding Nemo,” “The Incredibles,” and “Cars” on the family DVD shelves.

We Are All Minotaurs

Last week I went opening night with three of my brothers to see the new Chronicles of Narnia film, Prince Caspian. The film does not follow the book really closely, but it did do some things very well, and it set me thinking. Before I watched the film, I had always thought of Prince Caspian as a rather pointless  book. It wasn’t a grand allegory like The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe or The Last Battle, but it didn’t have a particular theme of its own like Dawn Treader or The Silver Chair—or so I thought. Although they discarded massive chunks of the book when making the film, the filmmakers retained every line of the dialogue that dealt with the spiritual side of the story, emphasizing the thematic and allegorical elements that made it what it was. As the film closed I was amazed—they hadn’t added anything to the familiar lines from the book (in that particular realm), but they had drawn out a theme which I hadn’t really seen as integral to the story.

It really dawned on me when Lucy finally meets Aslan—when towards the end, she talks to him at last. Aslan asks her, “Little One, why didn’t you come to me?” She answers, “But…but—the others wouldn’t believe! They wouldn’t listen to me!” “Yes, I know, but why didn’t you come?”She looks down, and with a catch in her voice admits, “I-I guess I was scared. But-but Aslan?!–if I had come when I saw you, would the others be dead?” “Lucy, how many times have I told you that you cannot know what would have been? But what will be—that is a different matter!” I realized that that was the true meaning, the real theme of the story—that sometimes we have to take things on faith, and not waver—that Caspian had to trust the Professor, trust that the horn would bring help, trust that the children and then Aslan would truly help him. Peter, Susan, Edmund and not least Lucy had to place their faith implicitly in Aslan, even when it looked like they had been pulled into Narnia only to die. They needed to follow him, even when it looked like he was leading them over a precipice to their doom. When things looked darkest, they had to take it on faith that Aslan would save them, that they were to be found fighting for the cause when he came. This theme was brought out powerfully throughout the movie, resulting in perhaps an even more thematic film than book.

When I was sitting there putting all the pieces of the puzzle together, I remembered a strange detail I had noted earlier in the film. There were Minotaurs fighting alongside Centaurs and Fauns in Caspian’s army! In the book, there were remnants of both good and bad Narnia in the forest, and they had joined forces originally, but the evil elements were soon found to be unable to work alongside the good. True, that happened in the movie, but the Minotaurs were not involved in the mutiny. I suddenly realized that the filmmakers, in transforming the story for the silver screen, had created a very interesting visual metaphor in the participation of the Minotaurs in Caspian’s army. One Minotaur had even been highlighted, when in one battle, a gate is dropped behind much of the army and a Minotaur throws himself beneath it, bracing himself to hold it up and allow his comrades to escape. Even when gut-shot by one of Miraz’s archers, he stood there long enough for most of the army to escape. Something seemed strange here. Thinking back, what were the most visible members of the Witch’s army in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe? The Minotaurs, of course! And yet here they were, fighting and dying for the right side this time. How could that be? They didn’t deserve it! It was then I realized that the themes of redemption, repentance, and salvation were only strengthened by this motif. The Minotaurs were unspeakably evil, in fact the very symbols of the dark army, but after the death of the Son they too were offered grace. Now, despite their heritage, they had the privilege of fighting in the King’s army, and giving their lives for Him. The allegory dawned on me—what are we but Minotaurs in the cosmic sense? We are the “unspeakably evil” ones, the ones whose kindred were present and participated in the death of the Creator’s Son. Yet we had been offered free grace, and we were the ones who should be awed to be asked to give our fortunes or our lives in the King’s service. Truly we too have more to appreciate than any other. We are all Minotaurs. We ought not to forget it, either.

That’s how book adaptations ought to be—the filmmakers using the strengths of the medium to enhance and reinforce the themes of the original work. Not to say that the filmmakers did everything right with Prince Caspian—far from it—but that the metaphor of the redeemed Minotaurs fighting in the King’s army left me with a poignant image of the theme, one which left me thinking for days. That’s the way it ought to be.

Casting American actor Robert Downey Jr. (Iron Man, Tropic Thunder) as Sherlock Holmes was the first clue that Guy Ritchie was not following in the steps of Holmesian cinematic tradition. Shot on location in Liverpool and London, Ritchie’s lavish cinematic reimagining of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic characters will please many, but readers of the original books will find more at stake than Sherlock’s use of the King’s English.

The film opens with one of Holmes’ daring escapades, infiltrating an underground crypt and interrupting an occult blood ceremony. Tearing off the perpetrator’s hood, Holmes and Watson (Jude Law) reveal none other than Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong), a prominent member of Parliament. Inspector Lestrade (Eddie Marsan) turns up in due course to collar both the criminal and the credit for the capture.

Blackwood is duly hanged (and his death certified by none other than our own Dr. Watson.) Yet his tomb is mysteriously broken open, and the dead man seen walking, apparently unharmed.

It is quickly revealed that the hanged Blackwood was a member of a mystical order dedicated to using their black arts to manipulate the course of history. As mysterious killings crop up around London, Holmes and company must sift through a myriad of clues to find Blackwood and expose his nefarious plot before it changes Britain forever. On the way, Holmes and Watson will spend a night in jail, ransack illicit laboratories, and survive a rigged powder explosion before bringing the case to a successful conclusion. It sounds clichéd, because it is.

The film is set at the end of Watson’s time living with Holmes at 221B Baker Street. Holmes refuses to admit it, but he is afraid of missing Watson and tries repeatedly to draw him back into the chase and distract him from his fiancé Mary Morrison (Kelly Reilly). Watson sees this as betrayal, and the repartee between the two drives many scenes through the film. Deviating from the books, Holmes has a romantic interest of his own —Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams), object of Holmes’ professional admiration from A Scandal in Bohemia. She makes a splashy entrance back into Holmes’ life, unafraid of using her feminine wiles to manipulate him for goals of her own.

The film is set in Victorian London, and the overall feel is predictably grimy, especially in the underworld that Holmes frequents. Ritchie has gone for more of an action vibe in this film than previous Holmes iterations, with shaky handheld camera work more reminiscent of The Bourne Ultimatum than Amazing Grace or other period dramas. Holmes and Watson walk, run, and fight their way through a richly detailed world, but the flat lighting in many computer enhanced scenes gives it a feel of unreality in conflict with the gritty tone of the production as a whole. Hans Zimmer contributes a tense, discordant action score based on Hungarian dulcimers and other unusual instruments — while its manic energy suits the film, it isn’t one I’ll be revisiting.

Surprisingly, given the gritty staging, the filmmakers still showed some restraint. Holmes’ relationship with Adler is somewhat risqué, hinting at more than is said or shown directly, but still less than I expected after watching the trailer. Drinking and smoking is quite prevalent, but the cocaine use mentioned in the books has been sidelined. The film is extremely violent, however, depicting in somewhat gory detail numerous fistfights, including a bare-knuckle boxing match, and leaving lingering images of gruesome killings — a man burned to death, another hanged, a third drowned. Several occult rituals, including one reconstructed by Sherlock Holmes himself, are depicted in hair-raising detail, although in classic Conan Doyle fashion, most supernatural events have very physical explanations. Families would do well to exercise caution before allowing children or younger teens to see this film.

The plot definitely delves into the realm of the strange and absurd. The occult ceremonies, megalomaniacal villains, and the macabre discoveries as Holmes closes in — while farfetched and occasionally absurd — are all details true to the original books, as are the strained relations between Holmes and Watson on a number of occasions. Even such eccentricities as Holmes’s bare-knuckle prowess and his encyclopedic knowledge of London soils are taken straight from the original. Though each is accurate, these details do not make up the full picture.

The romantic entanglement with Irene Adler, while a favorite theory of Sherlock Holmes fans, is not in the books and is indeed contrary to Holmes’s stated character — the precise, sometimes cold logician is gone, and in his place merely an eccentric.

The physical action even devolves into slapstick humor when Holmes is confronted with a pugnacious giant of a henchman seven feet tall. The classic Victorian reserve demonstrated even in the midst of precipitous action by previous cinematic Holmeses — such as Jeremy Brett — is absent, and both Holmes and Watson feel much more direct (“American,” perhaps?). The action in the film is so frenetic that when Holmes finally does sit down and put his logical mind to work, it feels more like an aberration than his true nature.

Ritchie has produced a rollicking action film that just happens to be set in Holmes’ London. It is a watchable and even enjoyable film for fans of Doyle’s characters, but with the original Holmes concentrated, enhanced, and caffeinated for the American market, any trace of intellect or nuance is gone in favor of beautifully choreographed fight scenes and big-budget spectacle.

While large box office receipts and plentiful hooks for a Moriarty-centered sequel all but guarantee a successor, this blockbuster reboot of the series adds nothing worthwhile to the canon.

Ever wanted to tie yourself to a bunch of balloons and fly away? Carl Fredricksen does just that this summer in Pixar’s newest animated blockbuster, Up (directed by Pete Docter). Seventy-eight-year-old widower Carl (voiced by Ed Asner), grieving his recently deceased wife, decides to fulfill a childhood dream to go to the fabled Paradise Falls by mooring thousands of balloons to his house and flying it to South America. In the process, cantankerous Carl collects a giant bird, a talking dog, and 8-year-old stowaway Russell (Jordan Nagai), all of whom demand more love, loyalty, and leadership than Carl’s tired heart can supply. Climb aboard as Carl Fredricksen finally finds his adventure — which may be a little … wilder … than either he or Russell anticipated.

The film opens with a look back into Carl’s childhood, as he watches newsreels of his hero, intrepid explorer Charles Muntz (Christopher Plummer) set off in his airship, the Spirit of Adventure, seeking the legendary giant bird of South America’s Paradise Falls. The youthful Carl soon meets Ellie, a girl even more obsessed with Muntz than himself, if possible, and their shared dream makes them fast friends. In the course of time, they grow up, fall in love, marry, and grow old together, always promising each other they would someday make it to Paradise Falls like their hero.

We return to the present to find a fiercely independent Carl, widowed and alone for the first time in 50 years. With his cottage  threatened by urban development, the retired balloon salesman devises a plan to tie thousands of balloons to his house and sail it to South America, inadvertently taking along Russell, a Wilderness Explorer. Carl and Russell face far more than the simple difficulty of getting to the falls, however. Charles Muntz is still searching for his giant bird, and he has become rather territorial about the falls and the birds that live there, complicating matters when one of the rare birds attaches itself to their convoy. The explorer is convinced the man and boy are out to get him, and sends his trained dog packs out to find and stop them. Russell must learn courage and Carl patience if they are to survive this blue-yonder adventure in one piece.

Up continues Pixar’s long tradition of breathtakingly beautiful cinematic panoramas of computer-generated imagery. The setting of the main part of the movie — the ground and skies of Paradise Falls — is richly, wonderfully detailed. With Up, however, for the first time Pixar experimented with wide-release 3D in its films. While I did not see it in 3D (3D showings are dependent on the theater and are typically $3 to $5 more expensive), I have heard that, as usual, Pixar hit the 3D version out of the ballpark. In my own experience, though, the 3D version of a film may be distracting or confusing and can even cause some people headaches; your mileage may vary.

The true theme of the movie isn’t about helping the elderly, or never forgetting your dreams, or anything else. Russell needs leadership, needs to learn how to be a man. Carl needs to remember who he is. You can’t forget a dream, yet dreams are not enough — sometimes you have to leave them behind. In short, it’s “If” in cinematic form — Rudyard Kipling’s challenge to courageous manhood:

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master,
If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same.

Be advised: the emotional intensity of Up may be a little too much for some kids. The family in front of me in the theater had to take their little girls out three times, as the suspense got to be too much for them. Unlike some of Pixar’s previous films, this time the heroes in danger are near and dear to us — a vulnerable old man and a little boy rather than a talking car, a clownfish, or a teenage chef. The film is hardly all seriousness, though. The explorer’s trained dog pack is fitted with collars that allow them to talk … until their attention is interrupted by a passing squirrel. Ever wondered how a dog thinks? Pixar’s nailed it — “Sir, I have just met you but I LOVE you. … ” Talking dogs, a giant bird that loves chocolate, and the escapades of an irrepressible 8-year-old Wilderness Explorer do a lot to relieve the tension of the film.

Carl regains the sense of adventure, of youthfulness, he lost when Ellie died. And Russell learns how to be a man at last. Carl’s childhood hero failed the test, but Carl and Russell have come a long way together, and it shows. Pixar has done it again and created a beautiful, wonderful, heroic tearjerker of a movie. In today’s culture, we can do far worse for our kids and for ourselves.

Last night I drove to Roanoke to see the new movie Watchmen, based on the graphic novel by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. I expected the film to be violent, considering the tone set by the graphic novel, but the finished work was far more violent than I had foreseen. Each of the scenes I mentioned above was in the movie, and many worse. At my count, there were at least 4 sex scenes, 4–8 extraordinarily violent murders, and a near-innumerable count of other gory and horrifying deaths, including dozens vaporized, obliterated, or simply exploded by Dr. Manhattan.

Now don’t get me wrong–not all violence is wrong, and often times it is necessary, even in a fictional story. I had no problem with Night Owl and Miss Jupiter’s fight scene in the prison riot–it was superbly choreographed and not unduly violent. I’ve watched a number of films with very violent wartime scenes, such as Gods and Generals, The Last Samurai, and the Lord of the Rings. These films largely did not bother me. What offends me though is the macabre fascination with death that would have us watch as a character takes a cleaver to another man’s head or a paralyzed man is made to fall on a sword, as in Serenity.

Sometimes violence is simply necessary for the plot, as in Ben Hur or Passion of the Christ. But in many cases understated or suggested action can be even more powerful that directly showing it. In Watchmen, three organized-crime types try to break into Rorschach’s prison cell to extract retribution for his vigilante work. The first two are gruesomely killed–the first dismembered with a circular saw and the second electrocuted, all in the midst of a prison riot–but the third’s death is not shown. Rorschach chases him into a bathroom, from which we only hear a flushing sound after a long moment. All the teens in the theater looked at each in horrified fascination–“WHAT did he DO to him?” This scene was far more powerful than the bloody deaths gruesomely depicted all around the characters, we recoil in disgust even though the only visual image we are left with is blood-tinged water flowing underneath the door. We were simply left in shock from the previous killings, but this one was left to our imagination, and it was far more effective than the others.

While I was thinking over this topic this morning, the thought-provoking song “Junkyard” by Celtic Christian band Ceili Rain came on the radio.

Saw a movie where a guy
Kills another guy, twice
Don’t know if I can forget about it

Saw a guy finish a fight
With a butcher knife, slice
Pretty sure I won’t forget about it

Is it OK If I say?:

My heart is not a junkyard
My mind is not a dump for all the gunk around
My spirit’s not a junkyard
No, it’s Holy Ground

Saw a photo on the net
Can’t believe that I’ve seen
Don’t know if I can forget about it

Two kids were playing in some dirt
That will never come clean
Wish to God I could forget about it

No one’s safe till we all say:

Wanna keep, keep the temple clean
Gotta keep, keep the temple clean
Tryin’ to keep, keep the temple clean
How do I keep the temple clean?

Vicious rumor went around
Wrecked my Uncle John’s life
Guess he never could forget about it

The song is right–our hearts and minds are not places to fill with this kind of gratuitous filth. Some violence is necessary to a plot or unavoidable–crime is evil, war is violent, it would be pointless to try to deny it–but to voyeuristically dwell on these sorts of elements is not healthy or desirable. The Apostle Paul states in Philippians 4:8,

“Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.” (NKJV)

Gruesome death, rape, fornication, and murder are not true, noble, just, pure, lovely, or of good report. Let us not meditate on these things.

In His Service,
John Calvin Young

My review was published in Carolina Journal’s February issue. As always, CJ makes a good read, but I’ve included my review below.

War films, conspiracy thrillers, and action blockbusters are not rare, but one that fulfills all of the categories like “Valkyrie” is a treat. Director Bryan Singer brings us the powerful story of the July 20 plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler in 1944 — an action that, if successful, could have ended Germany’s part in the war nine months early and saved thousands of lives. Tom Cruise stars in this unusual epic, showcasing the real, not fictional, bravery of a small group of men who tried to bring down one of the worst dictators that ever lived and redeem their nation’s reputation.

The film opens with a young German Army Col. Claus von Stauffenberg (Cruise), recently invalided home from North Africa, coming to a realization that he could no longer in good conscience support the Fuehrer — Hitler had become “not only the archenemy of the world, but the archenemy of Germany.” Other officers, such as General Tresckow (Kenneth Branagh), had reached the same conclusion and determined to act on it — a recent attempt to plant a bomb on Hitler’s transport plane had failed. The brilliant young von Stauffenberg, transferred to the German High Command (OKW), was quickly recruited for the plan to stop Hitler.

The conspirators were torn between their oaths of loyalty to the Fuehrer as officers and the conviction that he had to be stopped. In his position in OKW, von Stauffenberg stumbled across an existing plan named “Operation Valkyrie” designed to secure the government in case of a coup. As a trusted officer who briefed Hitler frequently, von Stauffenberg was the perfect courier to deliver a bomb to kill the dictator. With Hitler’s own plan for securing the government, he could manipulate the expected response in their favor.

On July 20, at a routine briefing at the Fuehrer’s Eastern Front headquarters, von Stauffenberg armed the bomb while a confederate cut off communications with Berlin to gain time to implement their plan. Von Stauffenberg waited until he witnessed the blast, then bluffed his way out of the compound in the ensuing confusion. Unknown to him, the bomb had been moved aside by another officer who was not in on the secret, and Hitler was shielded from the full force of the blast when it went off.

Returning to Berlin, von Stauffenberg found the other conspirators had not taken advantage of the three-hour communication blackout to start Operation Valkyrie, as the dictator’s death had not yet been confirmed. Word began leaking out that the Fuehrer was not dead, and when von Stauffenberg’s communications were cut off by Hitler’s order, the plot, and the lives of the conspirators, were doomed.

“Valkyrie” remains largely faithful to the historical account, deviating in a few places but carefully following the main narrative. Many small details are faithfully included, such as an unsuspecting officer’s careless handling of one of the early bombs that scared one of the conspirators. The initial announcement of the production met with mixed reactions in Germany. Concerns were raised over the casting of megastar Tom Cruise as von Stauffenberg, both as a highly public Scientology adherent (the religious group is considered a cult in Germany and the government has considered a ban) and as the star of “Top Gun,” likely resulting in a watered-down story to emphasize the action. Not least, they needed permission to shoot at historic locations and display the Nazi flag and symbols — strictly verboten in Germany.

These well-considered reservations were resolved, however. The German government granted permission to film and backdate to Nazi times a variety of historic sites, including the Benderblock in Berlin where the chief conspirators were shot. The filmmakers may have dramatized a few scenes, but the project as a whole upholds the factual account. Valkyrie keeps up the tension through the final minutes, even with the ending never in doubt. The result is a very straightforward, clean, historically accurate depiction of the heroism of a small circle of men willing to risk and give their all.

I was extraordinarily impressed by the historical accuracy of the film and their treatment of a spy/war plot with little-to-no language, little gore, and no nudity or other inappropriate behavior. I felt the film would not have been out of place showing at the San Antonio Independent Christian Film Festival–despite its Big Hollywood origins, the film gave a accurate, sympathetic portrayal of real heroism in the character of Colonel Von Stauffenberg, and they didn’t ruin it with gratuitous content errors.

The writing was also superb. Even where the lines are most likely entirely fictional, the writing is quite memorable–at one point Treskow, leaving the plot in Stauffenberg’s hands when he is transferred to the front, turns to von Stauffenberg and says, “You know, God promised Abraham that he would not destroy Sodom if there were ten righteous men. I feel for Germany it may come down to one.” When the conspirators are facing the firing squad at the end, Colonel Von Stauffenberg says to one of the others, “Look them in the eye; they’ll remember you.” This film powerfully tells their story for a new generation.

Going into the theater to watch the much-anticipated sequel to the 2004 hit National Treasure, I expected an action film with an emphasis on golden treasure and historical mystery. Surprisingly unlike the first film, Book of Secrets is not really about the treasure, or the mysterious Book at all; Ben Gates couldn’t be less interested in actual gold–he is far more concerned with clearing an ancestor of a heinous crime than with the “find”. The film isn’t all that concerned with the history either—the focus is more on what the hunt does to the principals of the drama than either the clues they follow in their quest or the treasure at the end. Despite these departures from the original film’s format–or rather because of them–Book of Secrets is a stronger film overall.

The story opens a few months after the conclusion of the first film. Historian Ben Gates (Nicolas Cage) and his girlfriend, National Archives conservator Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger), have broken up and Ben has moved back in with his dad, Patrick (Jon Voight). Geeky sidekick Riley Poole (Justin Bartha) has published a book on historical mysteries and urban legends, while Patrick and Ben are collaborating on a speaking tour.

The Gates’ lectures tell of an ancestor Thomas Gates, who was asked by Lincoln’s assassins to decrypt a coded document the night of the murder. When the loyal Gates realized the document contained the key to a treasure which could rejuvenate the Confederate war effort, he tried to destroy it. Gates was shot by the conspirators, but the mysterious document, missing 18 critical pages, survived.
Their narrative is challenged when a rival historian, Mitch Wilkerson (Ed Harris), comes forward with a missing page from the diary that implicates Thomas Gates in the conspiracy. Dumbfounded, Ben and Patrick realize that they must disprove the authenticity of Wilkinson’s artifact or lose their family’s good name—and a mysterious cipher transcribed from the fragment offers a clue to an older mystery that may validate the Gates legend.

The trail leads on to the titular “Book of Secrets”, a shadowy volume for Presidents’ eyes only that Riley claims holds the answers to dozens of mysteries from prehistoric America to Area 51. Ben all-but kidnaps the President to ask him for access to the Book, but unexpectedly it is not the Secret Service but Wilkinson who nabs the group. They quickly find their lives, as well as the Gates family name, depend on foiling Wilkinson’s scheme to affix his name to the greatest pre-Columbian discovery of all time.

The action of the film skillfully highlights the thematic focus of the film: the value of reputation and relationships, and how both may have life-or-death implications. Ben’s desire to redeem his ancestor’s good name drives the story. Later on, he appeals to the President’s honesty to gain access to the Book, and pledges his own word of honor to gain Abigail’s release from Wilkinson. Ben’s assurance in the innocence of Thomas Gates, and his willingness to risk all to prove it, is based on his trust in his ancestors’ honesty. The restoration of trust in Ben and Abigail’s relationship is integral to the story as well, underscored by a parallel reconciliation between Patrick and his estranged wife Emily (Helen Mirren).

Historical purists will probably prefer the first film, as the plot of its sequel leaves documentary history early on and leaps from conspiracy to conspiracy with gleeful abandon. Detective fans may wish for a tighter mystery. Overall, though, Book of Secrets hangs together very well and improves on the first film in many ways. While there are a few suggestive lines and spooky moments, more than the first film, the filmmakers have succeeded very well in reprising their family-friendly action thriller with a historical twist. The cynicism sometimes seen in National Treasure has been replaced by a welcome emphasis on heroism and nobility in the sequel, the constant repartee is back, and yes, there is a hook for the next sequel, if you can find it.

IHS,

John Calvin Young

However, this review includes some very interesting scrutiny of how morality and our impressions are manipulated in this film. I don’t know how accurate George Will is overall, but this is pretty incisive.

In “American Gangster,” Frank Lucas, proud of the purity of his Blue Magic heroin, upbraids a dealer for selling a less-pure product under that name, denouncing the “trademark infringement” that damages “the brand.” Message: A drug kingpin can master MBA-speak; the line between commerce and crime is blurry. (paragraph 5)

Read the whole story here.

This sweeping storu, shot on location in Iwo Jima, Hawaii, and Texas, chronicles the stories of:

–Johnny Boy Butler, who was 5 when his father was killed in action on Iwo, but who lived his entire life striving to live up to his father’s standard of victorious manhood.

–Leonard and Fletcher Isacks, whose grandfather died on the island, but whose copious letters on life, morals, politics, and the Christian life became the model for 3 generations of manly Isacks.

–“Colonel” Bill Henderson, who survived Iwo Jima and the moral and physical perils of the war through his desire to never disappoint his own father, and who has now seen his duty to devote the remaining years of his life to telling the stories to disciple the current generation.

They tell the tremendous story of the men who gave their lives to make the world safe for freedom, as well as the story of those men who have brought their sons and grandsons here, to tell them how to be men.

Scott Brown said he wanted desperately to travel to Iwo Jima, to walk where his father walked, and to see the places his father saw. He realized that was a desire that God put in every boy’s heart, the desire to walk in his father’s footsteps. The sons who came back to Iwo Jima, to remember their fathers, living or dead, to walk in their fathers’ footsteps, are those who Doug Phillips calls the “League of Grateful Sons”.

This is their story.

In His Service,

John Calvin