Planet Utah

"The King's Speech"

Better late than never, right? I wrote the review below for an arts/entertainment Web site. (It won't be published. It was more of a proposal/audition.) Thought I'd share it with you, too:

I saw “The King’s Speech” very late in its theatrical run. In truth, I was dreading the experience the way I used to dread those weepy Merchant-Ivory costume dramas. Sitting through the latter always reminded me of the hard slog through the Sunday New York Times. I knew  it was good for me. I knew it was something that cultured, well-educated people were expected to do. But I never really enjoyed it.

For months, I felt the same way about “The King’s Speech.” Having finally seen it, though, I’m sorry I waited so long.

By now you know the story: At a dangerous moment in European history, a reluctant monarch must conquer his speech impediment or risk losing the confidence of his subjects. What you may not know is how well told the story is.

I speak from personal experience. For 20 years of my life—from, roughly, age 14 to age 34—I had a terrible, crippling fear of public speaking. I don’t mean “butterflies in the stomach,” sweaty palms, and a shaky voice. I mean hyperventilation, blackouts, an overwhelming sense of doom, bodily tremors, a physical inability to force words out of my mouth, a feeling of lost physical and mental control—in short, full-scale panic.

When you fear public speaking in this way, occasions on which you are requested, or required, to speak are utterly withering. Colin Firth captures that feeling expertly in “The King’s Speech.”

When he is forced to the microphone, he gets a dead look in his eyes, as if he is being marched to the gallows. He swallows uncontrollably, uncomfortably, and his face grows slack. He responds to well-wishers flatly, if at all; he knows that their hopes for a good showing will only add to his humiliation. He does not panic, because he is not permitted to: He is a dignified, buttoned-down Englishman, and a royal one at that. But the pitiable look on his face tells you that he would give virtually anything to be anywhere else doing anything but this.

Firth captures all of this in small ways, primarily through subtle changes in voice, expression, and body language. It is a quiet performance (apart from occasional, and surprising, flashes of temper), befitting a quiet character. But it’s no less powerful for its lack of showy actor’s tricks and tics.

Though Colin Firth anchors the film, Guy Pearce deserves special notice for his role as King Edward VIII.

I’ve always liked Pearce, and have wanted him to do well on screen (as corny as that may sound). But I’ve often sensed that he was trying too hard as an actor: undergoing assorted physical transformations, attempting to hide his leading man looks by appearing greasy and unshaven, affecting a mincing speaking style, or struggling mightily, and not always successfully, to shed his Australian accent.

In “The King’s Speech,” though, Pearce looks like the well-fed movie star that he is, and speaks in a more or less conventional style—albeit with a modest English accent. Even so, he conveys perfectly the selfish, immature, sometimes cruel behavior of a man who is not fit to be king, and whose choices ultimately force him from the throne. It’s a surprisingly modest performance, and it works well.

So does most everything else about “The King’s Speech.” It’s an entertaining, inspiring story, but one that’s told in a way that doesn’t make a shameful play for tears or cheers, and that ties things up with a bow that isn’t too perfect or pretty.

The oil intervention argument

There's so much ignorance surrounding U.S. foreign policy and Middle Eastern oil.

Tonight, for example, I saw a video clip in which Joe Scarborough argued that we're involved in military action against Libya because Libya has oil, and that the U.S. only gets involved in the region militarily when oil supplies are at risk.

This isn't an argument. It's not even a bumper sticker.

The Middle East has oil. We need that oil. When there's political stability in the Middle East, we can be sure we're getting the oil we need. That is, when Middle Eastern dictatorships are secure, we know that current oil arrangements are also secure.

Think about that point for a moment. When we go into the Middle East and upset secure dictatorships--as we did in Iraq--we are threatening the security and predictability of oil supplies, at least temporarily.

This means that the "no blood for oil" crowd has it exactly backwards. When we mess with Middle Eastern regimes, we are generally threatening existing oil arrangements, not protecting them.

Okay, fine, you say...but what about when we get involved in places like Libya, where previously stable regimes are at risk?

Well, ask yourself this: What does the Middle East have that the rest of the world wants? Technology? Cheap, skilled labor? Cool action movies? A great tourist industry? 

No. The Middle East has oil. That's it.

This means that whoever controls the reins of Middle Eastern governments has two choices: (1) sell oil to the rest of the world; or   (2) watch as their countries recede even further into economic and cultural darkness. 

And what does THAT mean? It means that the U.S. does not NEED to intervene in the Middle East to ensure the continued flow of oil. Middle Eastern countries--no matter who controls them, be it the forces of democracy or the forces of radical Islam--would no more turn off the oil spigot than McDonald's would stop frying up hamburgers.

There. I said it. That's all you need to know about the relationship between oil security and U.S. millitary interventions in the Middle East.

All the rest is just ignorance or ideological cant.

No consequence for reversals and broken promises?

You may not remember this, but back in 2007 when Barack Obama was still a dark horse candidate, he pledged to use only public funds if he were to become his party's nominee, and he challenged his rivals to join him in this pledge.

Then it turned out that Obama could raise money like the IRS, and so he abandoned his pledge. He offered a couple of lame explanations/ excuses for his reversal, but virtually no one disputes the fact that he made the pledge when he thought it would serve his interests, and he abandoned it when he realized that his interests would be better served by doing the opposite of what he had pledged to do.

And you know what? I'm one of about six people who even know what the hell I'm talking about. In other words, Obama paid no price for his self-serving reversal.

Now think about the individual health insurance mandate. During the 2008 campaign, Obama said he opposed this as a policy tool. In fact, he repeatedly criticized Hillary Clinton's advocacy of it. Then, once he became president, he made the individual mandate the centerpiece of his healthcare reform. 

Or how about this? During the campaign, Obama said he wouldn't support a "surge" in Afghanistan because a surge wouldn't work there. Then he became president and authorized a surge. He said he would close Guantanamo Bay, too, within a year of becoming president. Well, not only is it still open, but Obama recently announced the resumption of military tribunals at Gitmo. (I'm authorized to use that nickname because I saw "A Few Good Men.")

What do all of these reversals and broken promises have in common? No one gives a damn about them. Well, no one but me. I question whether we can have a healthy democracy when there is no political consequence for this kind of blatant backflipping.

Footnote: If you want an example from the other side of the aisle, Congressman Jeff Flake pledged to serve only three terms in the House. He broke that promise and will now likely be elected to the Senate. In a healthy democracy, voters would say to Flake: "You requested our votes in part on the basis of your assurance that you'd only serve in the House for six years. Your six years have come and gone, but you seem to have forgotten what you said about returning home. We'll help you remember by not voting for you." 

Dumb isn't a sin...

...but not knowing you're dumb may be.

I refer, of course, to Sheila Jackson Lee, who was not at all pleased that Rep. Peter King was holding hearings on radical Muslims in America.

Congresswoman Jackson Lee's "zinger" was that if there were truly radical Muslims in America, they wouldn't cooperate with a Congressional hearing of this sort. And yet, the Muslims at the hearing were, in fact, cooperating.

Here's exactly what she said:

"Muslims are here cooperating. They are doing what this hearing is suggesting that they do not do. ... Where are the uncooperative Muslims?"

In the face of this devastating logic, Rep. King shut down the hearing then and there. What else could he do?

Actually, the hearing continued, with everyone ignoring SJL, the way they normally do.

I hope, though, that one of her young staffers whispered something like the following in her ear: "Ma'am, just to be sure you've thought through all of the angles on this one, some of us were talking, and we think maybe the uncooperative Muslims aren't at this hearing because, well, just sort of by definition--you know, because they're uncooperative. I mean, the fact that there are no uncooperative Muslims here doesn't prove that there are no uncooperative Muslims. Instead, it may prove that uncooperative Muslims don't cooperate with stuff like this...by virtue of their uncooperativeness. See what we're saying?"

 

Don't use your Charlie Sheen jokes now

Everywhere you go, there are now references to "tiger blood," "Adonis DNA," and being "a bitchin' rock star from Mars." If you drop one of those phrases in the next few days, you'll get a knowing chuckle. If you're still saying those things a week or two from now, you'll get a pity laugh. A month from now? You might as well tell someone to "sit on it."

HOWEVER, if you keep your powder dry for now, and wait, say, four months, and then drop a "tiger blood" reference...well, that's how legends are born.

My very first colonic (a Kenner product)

If you've been within a few miles of me over the past month or so, you know I've been doing the Clean detox program. You know that because I've been bitching about it LOUDLY, pretty much the entire time. Why? Because it's been like a month-long hangover.

It's not supposed to be this way. After a week or two of misery, you're supposed to feel better than you ever have in your life.

I'm doing the detox with a guy in Phoenix who actually DOES feel that way. He talks about how he's never been so focused or energetic...how he's found a deeper level of happiness...how he's sleeping like a concussion victim. You can find similar testimonials online, all about the life-changing benefits of Clean.

I, on the other hand, not only have not felt good, I've felt downright rotten. I've had a headache for 27 of the last 30 days. (Days 8, 9, and 10 were the last headache-free ones.) I'm grumpy, and hungry, and weak, and lightheaded, and disgusted with the food options. 

I was supposed to be done with all of this last Saturday--was supposed to feel refreshed, renewed, rejuvenated, reinvigorated. I'm not done, though, because I keep hoping for a breakthough. I mean, I've been through so much deprivation and physical suffering, what's another day or two? Maybe supercharged, headache-free bliss is just over the horizon. So, I keep trying to hold out for one or two more days.

(This, by the way, is the same logic that kept us in Vietnam about seven years too long.)

Today, though, I decided to mix things up a bit. I went in for my first-ever colonic.

If you don't know what a colonic is, it's a procedure in which a tube is inserted into your rectum (or in this case, in which you insert it into your own rectum), and your colon is flooded with a continuous stream of warm water over the course of about 45 minutes.

As you may know, your colon can't accommodate 45 minutes' worth of warm water (or cold water, or sweet tea, or anything else, really). So, every couple of minutes, your colon says "return to sender," and pushes the warm water back out, along with any accumulated gunk that may have pitched camp inside of you.

One of the first questions that occurred to me--and possibly to you--was this: How does the tube stay in your butt if colon overflow is coming out your butt?

In my case, it didn't. Well, let me rephrase: It did for about five minutes. At that point my rectum said, "Look, bub, this is a one-lane tunnel...something can travel up, something can travel down, but traffic can't move in both directions at once."

So, out popped the rectum tube. I reinserted it to a depth of about 2" at least five times. Each time, my body rejected it, like an organ transplanted from a meth addict. My rectum literally forced the tube out each time...it was basically an involuntary reflex.  

At a certain point, you have to listen to your rectum. So, I called in the tech and said, "I can't keep the tube in." She said, "You mean when you're pushing the water out?" I said, "No, before things even get that far. When I put the tube in, my rectum pushes it right back out. I'm not saying it falls out or it slips out, or that I can't get it up there in the first place...I'm saying that my rectum wants no part of this tube, and is actively, of its own volition, with tremendous determination, forcing the tube back out, precisely the same way it came in."

She got a bit of a puzzled look on her face, but then said, "Okay, let me try. Just lie back and try to relax (while I shove this foreign object up your butt)."

Well, whatever she did, it worked. She got the tube in place, and it stayed.  

So, the next thing you're probably wondering is, "What does it feel like?" It's not painful, but it's definitely not comfortable. Think about that urgent feeling you have when you've got diarrhea, when you REALLY need to go, but you can't get to a bathroom. Well, repeat that about 20 times over the course of 45 minutes, and couple it with bouts of nausea. 

Of course, one difference in a colonic is that you DO get to go...but whatever relief you feel is diluted by the acute embarrassment of having a tech within eye/earshot as you forcefully evacuate your bowels. (You get some privacy, but the tech comes in to check every few minutes, and inevitably you're going to be cleaning the pipes right in the middle of some of those visits.)

The last thing you're probably wondering is this: "What comes out?" (And yes, you do get to see it...it begins its journey to the sea by way of clear plastic piping.) Given the way I've been feeling over the past month, I was genuinely hoping to see some sort of horned goblin, or maybe a spider monkey wielding a straight razor, or at least a burlap sack full of holly and poison ivy. But no, it pretty much looked the way you'd expect it to look. The volume was unremarkable too.

When I was finished, the tech and I went over the normal stuff you'd go over (drink lots of fluids, don't put anything else up your butt today, etc.). Then, in a classic upsell, she said, "If you want the full benefit of this, you should really do another one within the next 48 to 72 hours."

So, believe it or not, I'm going back on Friday.

As I said, if I can just hold out for one or two more days...

A themeless pudding

Think about the Reagan presidency. It was "about" a few different things: (a) fighting commies; (b) restraining the growth of government; (c) reducing taxes; and (d) beating 70s stagflation ("morning again in America").

Think about the Bush I presidency. What was that one about? Hard to say...but HW would probably talk about helping to create a post-Soviet, post-Saddam "new world order."

Now think about the Clinton presidency. That's a tough one, too, but I think the Clinton people would say something like this: "It was about restoring fairness and opportunity to the middle class."

Next, the Bush II presidency. I'm not sure what that one started out being about, but it ended up being the "War on Terror" presidency.

And now we get to Obama. What's the theme?

I think the administration wanted it to be, "It's morning again in America (again)." That one hasn't worked out very well, though. Another possibility was, "the post-partisan presidency." Not so great, there, either. Another one was, "the brain-o-crat presidency," where smart guys solve all of your problems. Alas, no. Final option: "the you-won't-like-me-but-you'll-respect me presidency," where the president treats us like adults, speaks frankly about the country's problems, and makes us take our medicine.

Uh, nope--that ain't it, either.

So what's the theme? I don't know, but if the administration doesn't make one stick pretty soon, its critics will.