Sexual Politics from Trump Slime

 DATELINE: Move Over, Mayor Pete!

scream up close Moral Outrage Endangered?

If you are among the throngs who wonder what the hell is wrong with Senator Lindsay Graham, we may now have a theory to postulate.

This week another Trump plot was under-covered:  his rich minions who lack all forms of ethical integrity and moral accountability, came up with a plan to use a Republican college student in a Kevin Spacey kind of smear of Democrat Mayor Pete.

The student, who has some integrity, named Hunter Kelly charged the operatives in the Roger Stone manner, of recruiting him to make charges that Mayor Pete raped him. That’s how you deal with gay candidates, or anyone, by making false witness.

Never mind that it is low on the broken Ten Commandments. When you are dealing with Trump supporters, convenience outweighs all else. It is easy for them to swallow, not spit out, the poison.

The same slime-balls used a similar attempt with Robert Mueller, accusing him of being photographed kissing James Comey. It would be laughable if the tweet didn’t come from the Number One Idiot of the country.

Which leads us back to Lindsay Graham. We suspect, and it is a suspicion, that he too is being blackmailed by the super-rich Trump types: they have an affidavit by some cute little Republican college boy who claims Graham assaulted him.

It is the easiest and simplest way to control a closet-case United States senator.

We know sexual politics is alive and well lately: look at the Trump supporters like Robert Kraft, now fighting charges of consorting with prostitutes. The proof is in the video, which was made a few blocks from Trump’s golf hole White House in Florida.

So, Lindsay Graham may be the goose whose gander at Mayor Pete and Robert Mueller could render us insights into the nasty backside of Trump’s gang, which is a broad base.

 

 

 

 

Hollywood Takes on the Bible

DATELINE: Testament of the Trailers

hollywood bible

From 1994, in time for the Passover/Easter season, comes a two-part documentary that relies heavily on newsreel footage and trailers of Bible movies from silent days to the heydays of the 1960s epics.

You can find rare clips from all your favorite epics like King of Kings and The Greatest Story.  It’s all subverted by dry humor.

Of course, the fly in the ointment is that the streaming part two comes before part one. No way to stop that cart before the horse. The Bible According to Hollywood is a fast-paced sermon on the mount.

The narrator sounds like Robert Osborne, late of TMC fame, but it is a wit named Henry Stephens. And, the Old Testament starts off with a hoot and a half as it lambastes all those tacky Adam and Eve movies.

The light-tone and word play certainly makes this an enjoyable documentary. Since Cecil B. DeMille is the name on the marquee most of the time, you have mostly clips from his movies and his interviews.

Now and then, you hear from one of the stars of yore, like Virginia Mayo or Charlton Heston, They offer a few amusing morsels too. Heston contends he made only two Bible movies: the others were costume dramas. We’ll let you guess which ones he believes a truly Biblical.

Most of these sword and sandal films use a copyright free source to save money—and the early silent movies set the tone, and likely made the most money. Profits over prophets seemed to be the Hollywood motto.

Alas, most of the movies flopped:  the Old Testament stuff is far livelier than the New Testament, which is hamstrung by political forces: evangelicals want referential, and Jews don’t want to be scapegoats. The New Testament movies walk a tightrope.

All in all, the two parts could be interchangeable, and they will make you laugh and roll your eyes. What else can you expect from parables adapted for the screen?

Lost City of Cecil B. DeMille Found & Lost

DATELINE:  Sphinx Knows

 Sphinx nose

It may sound like something from John Waters, but this documentary marks a failed 30-year attempt to find the buried Egyptian city built by DeMille for his 1923 version of The Ten Commandments.

In 1982 young Peter Branson was inspired to go out into the desert, like some prophet without honor to locate the giant city with its dozens of sphinxes. No one told him it was a foolhardy endeavor.

Intermixed with the story of how Cecil B. DeMille single-handedly made the genre of the Hollywood epic, the film shows how little Hollywood knows of its own history. Its title is The Lost City of Cecil B. DeMille.

Time and again, over three failed archeological digs, the studios would not fund this project to dig up what is under ten feet of sand in Guadalupe, California.

When done with his expensive movie, DeMille buried the city to prevent rival studios from using it for knock-off movies.

DeMille nearly broke Paramount and Adolph Zukor with his silent version with a cast of thousands, endlessly wrecked chariots, and technicolor scenes.

When he tried to remake the Charlton Heston-Yul Brynner version in 1955, he met nearly as much resistance as the documentary filmmakers who think they wasted time and money spinning their wheels in the sand.

Of course, the importance of the film is how it collects the memories and images of those silent film extras and production crew as they slowly went on to a production of their own deaths.

In that way, Peter Branson may have lost his fellow producer, his original archeologist to the terrible political idiocy of the Santa Barbara County bureaucrats, but he saved a special part of Hollywood history.

This film is a testament and a gospel for movie aficionados.