The LAST PATROL review

DOLPH LUNDGREN SHERRI ALEXANDER
DIR. SHELDON LETTICHSCI-FI ACTION 1999

I have a confession to make. I am a bit of a Dolph Lundgren fan. Yes, it’s true. Now, normally I would make this confession without any shame, guilt or trepidation. I mean, this is Dolph we’re talking about; the big Swede. One of the 80’s Action Movies Old Guard. Into his fifties now, and he’s still pumping out the tough guy roles with more on screen power than any of the young bucks today. I had never come across a Lundgren flick I couldn’t get into...until I came across The Last Patrol, that is. And it’s this old ’99 piece that is the source of my mild shame.
The story of a cluster of survivors after an apocalyptic earthquake (scarily apt at the moment) is a sound one. The premise has extensive potential for engaging story telling and action, the hostile, ravaged Earth concept always proves popular, just look at the Book of Eli, Omega Man or Mad Max. But sadly, unused potential is basically worthless. TLP’s script is an abomination. Collapsed civilisation and lawlessness do not make for good comedy, yet the story far too often meanders off into poor attempts at light humour and absurdity. Thus we cannot take any aspect of the film with any semblance of seriousness. The dialogue is weak and as for the characters themselves...well, you would get more depth from using a thimble as a diving pool.
Lundgren, of course the lead here, is ‘renegade’ Army Captain Nick Preston, and he does have the screen presence and, dare I utter it; charisma, to hold his own amongst one of the worst collections of no name ‘actors’ assembled. In fact, the acting is so poor that Dolph starts to look like De Niro. Still, the scenes that call for any emotional resonance, however, fail dismally, again because of amateurish delivery and a music score that is more insipid than that apricot pastel paint you had on the bedroom walls of your flat in the late ‘80s.
The voice over narrative doesn’t work, the desert locations of Israel are wasted, the apple pie patriotic American ending is just too much and you simply cannot engage with anything happening on screen. There are some good points still, and it’s only these that garner this ‘effort’ its single star rating; Dolph looks the part when he belts the bad guys, you believe he can really hit like that, and how he seems to be totally unaffected when the shovel thrown at him just bounces off. But that’s it.
So don’t bother. Unless you simply have to watch something, and your set top box is dead, you’re snowed in, your other DVDs have been kidnapped by Jean Claude Van Damme and your ankles are broken, then and only then, could The Last Patrol be viewed as a last resort...
*

RAISE YOUR GLASS...

Originally published in Coastal Views magazine, SA May 2011

It’s in the water, but where’d it come from and why?
No, that’s not the lyrics to a new Kings of Leon song; it’s just a question that has recently entered my mind. I saw a documentary about the way our government has added fluoride to many of our water supplies and how many people appear to be having hypersensitive reactions to it. I had my researcher look into this issue and we discovered that there was quite a large portion of the populace whom are actually against this procedure of adding fluoride to the drinking water supply. According to one government of QLD document, the stated reason for the additive, and I paraphrase here, is that it provides a constant defence against some dental problems, particularly for people that eat a lot of sugar. Right. So blanket medicate everyone then.

Now, bear in mind there is pharmaceutical grade fluoride and there is the fluoride derivative that is scraped away from industrial waste. This latter variant is very cheap and easy to come by, of course, and simply has to go somewhere for dumping...

Now, before I go off on too far of a tangent, I just must state that I am not here to discuss the pros or cons of fluoride in water, no, what I am getting at is that people are not being given the choice to have it or not. The decisions are being made by others in positions of power, claiming it be for the good of all the subjects in the kingdom. Seemingly however, without regard to the possibility that some of these subjects may in fact be acquiring health problems from it, not benefit. That’s not to say that if one person gets sick, then it’s bad for all, no, no. I mean, many people are allergic to peanuts; they can go into anaphylactic shock and die if they come within a foot of Charlie Brown or Snoopy, but for most of us, we can wolf down a satay without breaking a sweat. Now, having used that as an analogy, you will note that products containing even a hint of a peanut must be clearly labelled, so that the consumer with the allergy can choose not to buy said product, but still allowing the unaffected people the option to add the peanut simmer sauce to their stir fry.
Did you notice how that worked? The affected people can choose not to have the product that is making them

unwell. They can choose and get on with their shopping like nothing has happened. So why not with fluoride in water? Must those suffering adverse reactions to the affected water supply avoid the water altogether? So, no drinking, no showering, no washing, no doing dishes? Yet I bet they get hit with a supply charge from the water utility company. No, the order is wrong. If people want fluoride in their water, then they can buy pharma grade fluoride capsules and tablets very easily, the government could even subsidise them if necessary. There are fluoride enhanced toothpastes on supermarket shelves. It’s not hard to come by. We don’t need a mass medication for all, as ordered by decree of the mighty elected powers that be. Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone.

And this brought me to another observation. We in SA, well, a lot of us it would seem, don’t actually like our tap water. Why do I say this? Well, have a look at how many of us buy bottled water, cartons of water, plastic containers of water and Pura Taps and other filtering devices en masse. We know there’s a multitude of toxins, metals, chlorines and other bugs and nasties in tap water, so we want to filter it first or drink spring water instead, because we believe it is doing us harm. We all seem to know this and consumer figures seem to back this up. We won’t drink it but we still shower in it. We still wash our dishes in it. We still bathe our kids in it. And we still pay utility companies to pipe it to us.
And relatively very few of us are complaining where it counts. We are becoming apathetic as we ‘progress’. We are becoming complacent and docile because this country has it so good compared to many other nations. We are the lucky country. But we are this place because people of generations past were not struck down by the highly contagious apathy. They battled on and fought for change and reform. They demanded things of their leaders. Don’t worry, I’m not suggesting we go all Tunisian or Libyan on our local representatives here, but it doesn’t hurt to send them civilised, well thought out emails or letters, or even phone calls raising the issues that affect you. Don’t be afraid to speak out and ask, nay; demand that our elected representatives actually represent us. But it’s all good and well for me to sit here and harp on about it. One voice can’t be heard alone. There need to be many voices, all saying the same thing, before something is heard.

AFTER SHOCKS, AFTER THOUGHTS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE APRIL 2011 EDITION OF COASTAL VIEWS MAGAZINE, SA.

It seems that every time I sit down to write a column, that the world has been beset again with a disaster or tragedy of vast scale. From Tunisian uprising, Egypt and Libya, through to the floods of Queensland and the earthquakes of Christchurch. I want to write something positive, you see, to uplift and inspire. Something flippant and witty to evoke casual chuckling and mirth. But it’s hard to get in that frame of mind when half of Japan is being washed away on the news channel and people are being shot at their homes in the papers.
I like to think of the glass as being half full, but it is difficult to do when so many around us are without a glass to begin with.
But does that mean I should just give up and accept that the world is a writhing, seething entity, in a constant state of flux, where everything can be fantastic and wonderful one minute and in the next, it turns on it’s inhabitants, wreaking death and destruction at will?
I should definitely accept it but we can’t just give up and stick our heads in the sand like the proverbial ostrich. However, that is not to say we have to light candles and conduct vigils or offer virgins as sacrifices, no, but we really should try to be aware. And in being aware of what happens in this great big world of ours, we can try to keep life in perspective.
Don’t worry, I am not at my laptop in ceremonial robes nor am I wearing a white collar, I am not here as a preacher man, not even as the son of one. I merely plant seeds, the same as we all do one way or another. It is up to individuals whether or not we wish to water them.
What can we dare to learn from tragedy? In these epic disasters of recent times we have seen and heard stories of great human courage, sacrifice and mateship. Mothers hurling themselves over their babies to protect them, heroic rescuers crossing treacherous and raging flood waters to save perfect strangers in need. We have seen towns and cities wiped flat, but people rallying together to rebuild, to move on, united in that goal, bonded by devastation. In the darkest hours can sometimes be found the brightest lights.
But as with every yin, there must be a yang. Where there is chaos, there will be those who revel in anarchy. The looters, the deviants, the twisted. The opportunistic parasites that will always look out for themselves first and capitalise on the misfortune of others. They don’t help the shop owner who’s livelihood is in ruin, no they merely steal what he has left and leave. These are the vile creatures that attack a woman reporter trying to earn a living, telling the world of a plight, defiling her and leaving many scars that will never heal.
In disaster and strife we learn about ourselves. We see who are the strong and the good. We see those who are cowardly and corrupt. Humans are like teabags; you can’t tell how good they really are until they’re in hot water.
So how do we keep this all in perspective? Well, that’s up to you. For me, whilst watching Japan shake and Toowoomba drown, I didn’t hear the whining dog next door and I forgot all about the slow internet speed at my house. The minor trivialities of life were suddenly more manageable. That’s not to say that if a problem that seems big to us, it isn’t. No, we all have dramas in our lives, suffered or are suffering loss, some more than others. We all have problems that seem insurmountable, and yes, sometimes they really are. Sometimes we turn to things to hold us up, crutches. Some choose drink, others religion, some chocolate. As John Lennon said; whatever gets ya through the night.
We get one life to live. It’s not perfect. Far from it. The world is a volatile, scary place and we have to fit in it, together, as best we can, whilst trying to deal with all those who choose not to. But we still have to go to work in the morning, we still have to pay the bills that come from living in the society that we do, we still need to sweep the porch and make sure the streets are clean. Still tell the kids off for drawing chickens on the living room wall with pasta sauce. These things are part of being civilised.
But we who are doing alright at the minute should sometimes try to take stock of our lives and be grateful for what we do have and not take the good things for granted. So say to your wife that you love her. Give your kids words of encouragement. Pat the dog.

Appreciate it now. Just in case it’s not there tomorrow

SHERLOCK HOLMES Reviewed

ROBERT DOWNEY JR. RACHEL McADAMS JUDE LAW DIR. GUY RITCHIE
ACTION SUSPENSE 2009

Guy Ritchie may be best known for his geezer capers such as Lock, Stock... and Snatch, but for this reviewer, his reimagining of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s’ classic character is his finest work so far. By blending detailed sets and smooth CG backgrounds, Ritchie recaptures Victorian era London with great success, locating his characters in time without ever overshadowing them with overdone scenery.
From the first strings of composer Hans Zimmer’s hypnotic score over the opening credits, we know we are in for a treat, a piece that is original and timeless.
Robert Downey Jr embodies himself as the title character, bringing to it a wit and presence that is at once most engaging and fantastic. His delivery of the rapier sharp and staccato dialogue is never overplayed and one doesn’t ever doubt him in the many action scenes, his Sherlock having a strong body in addition to the brilliant mind.
Jude Law brings us a Dr Watson that is more related to the Watson of the original texts; tougher and more involved, clever, not the bumbling comedy sidekick so often depicted in some of the other film adaptations of the character, such as Nigel Bruce’s Watson to Basil Rathbone’s Holmes back in the ‘40s.
The on screen rapport between the new Holmes and Watson is well constructed, we believe their years old friendship, their verbal shorthand, the banter back and forth between them entertains and captures our attention, laced with subtle humour and refinement. But it is not a boys club all the way, no, the double edged character of Irene Adler brings rich colour to the oft black and grey landscape, her portrayal by American actress Rachel McAdams is balance to the testosterone of the male dominated cast. Not that she is the damsel in distress; instead she is the foil to Holmes’s logical processes.
The film style and quick cuts allow us the ability to keep up with the plot, by moving back in time strategically, so we can see what has occurred so rapidly through the mind and actions of Sherlock, almost within a slight of hand style parlour trick. The fist fight sequences are a highlight, Holmes’ mental planning of his movements is a clever device, so much you almost can feel each impact. Even the explosions on the docks scene is executed in more elegant fashion, not underplaying such an intense event, but placing the viewer right there beside the characters, the film slowed down, revealing such details that you may possibly singe your eyebrows watching it.
Some may find Sherlock Holmes a tad long, a little over two hours, but there is a lot going on and the pace is fast for the most part. There is more to come, however, a sequel is due out later this year, to continue on from the unfinished business left us in this chapter.
I, for one, shall be looking forward to it, but you of course, can make your own deductions...
****

THE SORCERER’S APPRENTICE review

NICOLAS CAGE MONICA BELLUCCI
JAY BARUCHEL ALFRED MOLINA
DIR. JON TURTELTAUB
FANTASY 2010

Given that Hollywood has lost the ability to come up with new and original products, it is at least refreshing to see the House of Bruckheimer has chosen to draw from a 1797 poem by German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and it’s previous celluloid adaptation, a sequence in Disney’s animated 1940 classic, Fantasia, (You know the one, where Mickey Mouse casts a spell to have all the mops start cleaning by themselves) for inspiration for their latest outing, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Of course, being a modern fantasy adventure film, we trade the cartoons for big budget CGI effects, add in Nicolas Cage as the ancient Sorcerer and have popular awkward guy Jay Baruchel to replace Mickey. And it works.
TSA is a Disney backed film also, and as such is family friendly; there is of course the colour and spectacle of the action, but there is an underlying moral story about believing in yourself that can never be driven in to our kids too much. The romantic angle between Baruchel’s apprentice Dave and his dream girl Becky (Teresa Palmer) is sweet without being irritatingly so but the love story between Cage’s Balthazar Blake and fellow Sorceress Veronica, (an underused Bellucci) never really hits it’s peak, despite being a crucial, motivating part of the story. The action is primarily effects driven spell casting between the main protagonists and the brilliantly villainous Maxim Horvath, (a perfectly cast Molina) but this doesn't get repetitive or as tedious as it can in genre cousin Harry Potter’s films. This could be due to TSA’s much shorter running time of 109 minutes against Potter’s two and a half days…
The car chase through New York is a clever blend of live action and CG, and will prove a popular sequence for some of the Dads who will enjoy the 1935 Rolls Royce (Cage’s own vehicle in reality), Ferrari 430 and the SLR Mercedes blasting through traffic while they wait for Monica Bellucci’s next scene.
All in all, an easy to watch, family friendly slice of escapism that parents won’t mind the kids watching again and again. And again. But only once the floors are mopped.
****

ABRA CADABRA

THIS COLUMN ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE MARCH 2011 ISSUE OF COASTAL VIEWS MAGAZINE. ABRA DENOTES THE ALDINGA BAY RESIDENTS ASSOC.

March issue already. Thanks to my loyal readers for your continued support and enthusiasm, I appreciate both of you. (And by the way Mum, I’ll pop round on Thursday.)

Mmmm. Support and enthusiasm. That’s what allows Coastal Views to be what it is today. A fine, informative, quality Community magazine. It needs the support of local businesses for funding, and the enthusiastic dedication of ABRA and its members to put it all together each month. Pat yourselves on the back, people. You know who you are.

But, and here’s the rub, ABRA needs your support and enthusiasm to continue in its role as a voice for the Community. Meetings are only once every couple of months, and they are a great way to get your opinion heard in regard to this little part of the world in which you live.

We all like to complain about what isn’t right in the area, and moan about that which the Council is doing all wrong and speak in disdainful tones about the locations of shopping centres. But few of us actually get the chances to say anything to the right people. We are oft too busy with that thing called life, and that is perfectly understandable. The twins need changing, the dog is smoking again or young Marjorie has tripped on a tin of Werther’s Originals and sprained her elbow and can’t play Mah Jong anymore. Hey, we’ve all been there, right?

But once you’ve done with all that, and the chickens are finally asleep, perhaps try to stop in at one of the ABRA meetings and air your grievances amongst similar, like minded locals. Members of the ABRA board may be able to pass on your complaints or issues to Council or at least point you in the right direction. ABRA wants to know what the Aldinga and surrounding community is happy about or concerned with. But they can’t raise the issues that concern us if we don’t tell them. Fair enough?

But perhaps I have put you on the spot. Maybe you’re feeling like I’m pressuring you or guilting you. Maybe you’ve already turned the page and are looking for the movie review. Relax, brothers and sisters, I ain’t the man standing over you, telling you what to think and do. We all remember the sixties, people. Peace.



Maybe I can just get you started with some ideas. What about the local nature strips? Happy with those? Happy for nature to be represented by weeds, dirt and random gravel? No? Well, perhaps we could ask Council to get on with planting some trees, some native shrubbery or the likes? You know, really get the streetscapes and roadsides looking attractive and enticing. Sunday Estate has the right idea and it’s looking quite nice through there. I believe we all pay council rates here, so shouldn’t it be everywhere? But ah, I hear the voices of the Nay Sayers...yes that’s them, with fingers pointed and brows furrowed in consternation like a rolled up quilt cover in a napkin holder. “But who would plant this greenery? The council has not the time or money, they have more pressing issues! Bah, humbug!”
A valid point, old foe. You are a worthy adversary. But alas, there could be a solution. There are local volunteer groups, but I think it would be great to use the fit unemployed contingent of society. A Work for the Dole like program for the visual and environmental improvement of the area. Rates dollars provide the trees, tax dollars provide the labour. Bring that up at meeting.

Don’t like that one? No problem. How about using this one; footpaths. Do you want them or do you not want them? This has been a point of contention in the area for awhile. The year is 2011 and the main road of Aldinga Beach down to the Esplanade is without a true footpath. And there are a great many streets and roads around here in the same condition. How much longer are we going to be behind in proper footpaths? Dare we bring up the “we all pay rates around here, why the disparity in areas with and without?” The cost issue will come up again, no doubt. So I say use Community Service crews. You know the ones, through the Correctional Department. People that don’t pay fines, or who have been sentenced for minor criminal offences. Get them out here and put some bricks in their hands. Think about the savings. Free labour again. Well, it worked back in the days of chain gangs. Laying bricks in the hot sun, they fought the law and the law won...

Well, hopefully this has your creative juices flowing and perhaps you are even considering attending a meeting or two and getting your voice heard. Perhaps you are now preparing to flick to the front of this mag again to check the date for the next ABRA meeting, just as soon as I have stopped rambling here.

Well, go on. Now you can.

Random Acts of Compassion?

PUBLISHED IN COASTAL VIEWS MAGAZINE, FEBRUARY 2011 IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA

I was reading in the local paper about the case of Som Sawaendgee and her attempts to get a Visa into Australia. In short, Som is the Thai partner of Andrew Oake, a Seaford Rise man who was tragically murdered in Thailand.
Now, Som is applying for residency here in
Australia, with the help and support of Andrew’s parents. Furthermore, Som and Andrew have a baby daughter, Angelina. And on top of that, Som was a witness to his murder in Thailand, and looks like having to testify at the upcoming trial over there. They’re paying the fees, following the correct channels and procedures.
So, if this is all accurate, then you would think that Som and Angelina would qualify for the appropriate visa that would allow them to stay in Australia. Wouldn’t you? I would.
But at this point, it appears that the Australian Government does not. At the time of writing, a final decision had not been made, but things were not looking too promising for Som.
This confuses me.

I am an advocate for granting those in need asylum or residency under these kinds of circumstances, especially when there is a child concerned, particularly when one of the parents is an Australian.
But I fail to see why some of those refugees and asylum seekers who arrive on boats or through other non-official channels are getting in and Som is, at this point, in effect being denied.
Before you roll your eyes and turn the page, relax; I’m not going to go into another asylum seeking boat people high horse rant. No, my issue for discussion is that of compassion...
We have compassion for the mentally and physically disabled, yes? Yes. We donate to their charitable causes and buy the raffle tickets and put coins in the tins.
We have compassion towards the flood victims in Queensland in their time of need when a natural disaster ripped through their homes, leaving behind devastation and fatalities. I’m sure many of us have made donations to the appeal or the Red Cross.
Obvious and logical causes where compassion is evident and, for lack of a warmer expression, valid. But then things get, shall we say, less clear...
The Australian Government gives billions of dollars in foreign aid to its less successful neighbours, to help them get a leg up and of course, to maintain good relations. Of course, for the most part, this is rarely reciprocated to the same level, but that’s not what we do it for. These countries need assistance to control their populations, to progress and advance. It doesn’t matter how they treat Australia in return. Some can lock up our citizens without trial. Some can even send some boatfuls of refugees our way. All fine. Good for the image. This is, perhaps, compassion.
Closer to home, the Government is compassionate towards addicts, junkies and meth heads. If they admit they have a substance abuse problem, the Government provides them with free healthcare, counselling and sometimes even a house to live in. They don’t have to work or contribute to the society that provides for them, just sit back and do what they do. Yes sir, that’s compassion. Isn’t it?
Smokers, who apparently are completely unaware of any negative effects their habit may have on their health, are entitled to government subsidised assistance with quitting. Be it nicotine patches or their own special phone line. Mmm, compassion, surely.
Even those individuals who are unaware that overeating will cause you to become obese and unwell can even get subsidised medical procedures to lose weight. Compassion?

Perhaps you can see where I’m going with this. Our government hands out assistance and money all the time, and it’s labelled ‘compassion’. For the needy, the sick, the poor, the underprivileged, the weak and the foolish.
When our sportspeople play a charity match, they are legends. When our music heroes play a benefit concert, they are idols. When Mary MacKillop helped the poor and wretched, she was our Saint.

But what happens when a Thai girl sees her Australian husband killed, then wants to come to Australia to raise their baby daughter with his family, in a safer, supportive environment, following all correct procedures?

Well, we’ll just have to see about that...