Hancock's personal exploits seem almost mundane. At first glance, we are treated to an individual with otherwise extreme powers who has somehow lost his reason for even trying. Hancock revels in public intoxication with no regard for his immediate appearance. He enters with an impulsive shock and leaves with the same level of bravado, logically concluding that his strengths are beneficial. Except that Hancock has a tendency to scare everyone. With every crashing locomotive and thunderous crunch of yet another demolished building, people everywhere who simply want to live in peace shout, "Enough!" Take your talents elsewhere! We're doing fine with what we have so far. But it isn't quite that simple.

Today's reality begs for some sort of reconciliation between the mesh of cultures and generation gaps experienced on a daily basis. The Baby Boomers are still very much in charge, while Generation X is certain their way of looking at things will actually work for the better. But Ray Embrey's marketing vision of giving away expensive products for free falls on stubborn ears. And what about the Millennials or Echo Boomers, as they are sometimes referred to? They are also convinced of the supremacy of their path. Add to this the different viewpoints between African-American, Latino, and every other culture represented, and what you have are individuals who may feel the only way to be adequately heard is merely to be indifferent. Stop paying respect to another establishment because it stopped paying respect to you.

Films these days are becoming increasingly complex, no doubt reflecting the challenges and frustrations in today's cross-cultural, multi-generational reality. Hancock recognizes these situations, hoping to alert ourselves to the incredible strengths we as individuals have to offer to society as a whole. Of course, all of us at one point or another wish to escape into the relative security of like minded thinkers, but at the risk of diluting and even eliminating our personal talents. Yes, it is possible to live in a chaotic world of differing cultural and generational agendas. Hancock did it!

All the same, Hancock did have to go to a self-imposed prison, desperate to learn some sort of control in order to effectively operate as a contributor to society. It wasn't easy. The learning process never is. But what Hancock left with was empathy. Empathy for those around him. We've all been exposed to sympathy. But empathy? The ability to step into someone else's shoes?

With his powers now focused and far more streamlined, Hancock's next dilemma comes when he encounters someone just like him. Through Mary's instruction, Hancock learns that this partnership will eventually destroy him. Much like what happens when we desire to only be around those who think like we do. Are we really contributing or are we simply looking for a safe place to be? Perhaps learning to live as individuals while at the same time benefiting the group as a whole IS the best course of action to take. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but then nothing in this world ever seems to. We all might as well be superheroes, crackpots, and a**holes!

And perhaps that is the final message delivered throughout the final scenes of Hancock. Frustrated as individuals, mortal and falling apart as a whole. We are all one big Justice League with superpowers all our own. Why not learn to respect another's as much as we respect our own?

We'll live forever with a big red heart on the moon that way.

   Mumbai was formerly known as Bombay.  It is the capital of the Indian state of Maharushtra and the financial capital of India. It is the most populous city in the world with well over 13,000,000 residents.

   Mumbai is located on the west coast of India. It is the commercial and entertainment center of India.  Mumbai is home to important financial institutions such as the Reserve Bank of India, the Bombay Stock Exchange and the National Stock Exchange of India. This prosperous city is the corporate headquaters of many Indian companies and numerous multi-national corporations.

   This city also houses India's Hindi film and television industry known as "Bollywood".  Mumbai is the birthplace of Indian Cinema.  It boasts of having a large number of cinemas, including the world's largest IMAX Dome Theatre. The residents and visitors avidly attend the many film festivals throughout the year.  Mumbai residents celebrate Western and Indian festivals with great fanfare.  Diwali, Holi, Christmas and Good Friday are just a few of the popular festivals that are celebrated in the city.  

When it was over my wife said to me, "Well, I sort of got caught up in it, but what really happened? I mean, speculating on the motives of fictional characters??"

That alone I take as a thumbs up, because the screenwriter can do something other than - tires squeal, or hero sneaks around corner holding gun. This movie is an unofficial companion piece to "Becoming Jane," the biographical period piece of the author herself. Here, the attempt is made to parallel the lives of Austen's characters with a group of modern day Californians.

Again, how bold to attempt to portray two such disparate groups as essentially, and inherently possessed of and pursuing, respectively, the same qualities and dreams.

I'm reminded of another little known piece; Danny Devito teaching Army recruits Shakespeare. For anyone with even a year of community college, think of the possibilities; women do a Jack London book group, men in prison have a weekly discussion on Dostoevsky. My point is character in both fiction and real life is richer than any plot because without character plot cannot exist. And while plot can be made quite interesting, without adequate character you have "the Da Vinci Code," and nothing more.

I'm writing this to celebrate this film as a mainstream effort at character study, a blow against the prevailing  wind, both in arts and life, of the plot-driven life culture. What happens? Is too often the question in film and life- who wins, who loses, what mystery is solved, and other such formulaic questions, when the real interest is: who do we get to know who helps us get to know ourselves better?

Al Pacino may be Patrick Henry reincarnated in terms of oratorical ability. Even at nearly 69 years old, I'll put him up against Obama any day. Which is why it was so disappointing to watch "88 minutes," and how Al basically slept walked through the whole cliche-ridden piece of tripe, tantalizing us with sneak ppeks only of the glory that was "Dog Day Afternoon," and the grandeur that was "Godfather."

I haven't seen it but understand his latest "Righteous Kill," is also a mistake. How do you make a mistake with Pacino and DeNiro? Pandering/scripting to the lowest common denominator audience/market and you can't blame the actors really for just making another pay day. At least I wouldn't to their face. No, I'm not talkin' to you Bobby. Especially since the script selection they probably have to choose from has all the appeal of a 2-day old buffet. "Al, maybe we can do something with this piece of gorgonzola, it doesn't smell too bad yet."

Speaking of bad smells, need we say "Oceans 13"? Which is just to say the brightest stars eclipse themselves from time to time, but even in the most dismal efforts ("Simone"," Revolution"), their genuis is apparent, even in the seamiest of stories ("Insomnia","Sea of Love,") their ability to convey in the character the universal struggle for goodness comes through.

Finally, my favorite Pacino effort, "Serpico," may soon be eclipsed; or at least there is the chance that the actor has found, now in pre-production, his best role: Salvador Dali.

Oldboy opens rather curiously with a small, agitated dog, dangling perilously over the edge of a tall building, clinging tightly to a man, who unfortunately for the dog is attempting suicide. He is prevented only by the bad timing of another man who has just appeared from a large suitcase and is insisting on telling his story whilst clumsily stroking face of the -would be- self effacer. Within twenty minutes of the opening stanza, director Chan-wook Park has explained to us that the man in the suitcase is Oh Dae-Su, a previously heavy drinking bad father and husband, who has been mysteriously kidnapped and kept in a hybrid prison cell/ bad porn motel room for fifteen years then inexplicably released. He also informs us that whilst held captive, Oh has been framed for the murder of his wife, routinely gassed for reasons to be revealed later in the movie, and got himself into fighting shape by mercilessly pounding a wall until his hands bled then calloused and hardened. Now freed for no apparent reason, Oh is challenged via a mobile phone, to find his tormentor and find out why he… well, just why? And it is with a firmly straight expression that I say- it because of movies such as this that, admittedly only the bravest and sterner stomached of curious westerners are turning east for their dose of dramatic texture, so sorely missing in Hollywood.

Asian filmmaking has been labelled (and sometimes fairly) as a “gore fest” and in extreme cases, only a small step away from mimicking snuff movies. Films such as “Ichi the Killer” and “Battle Royale” seemed to glorify violence and turn it into something common place. And whilst it could be argued that in Oldboy, Chan-wook Park is somewhat detached and unsympathetic regarding the violence and the plight of the movies “hero”, once all is revealed his reasons for this become clear. Without wanting to give away the ending, Park is not wanting to take sides too much as he does not want us to feel sympathy for Oh Dae-su to the point were we are willing him on to gain violent revenge in order for us to gain some form of catharsis. His entire point in fact is to question how rewarding revenge is and in turn how unnecessary the violence is.

Saying that, when we return to the point of the story where we left Oh, we find him entering a café and having to repeat himself when he growls “I said I want to eat something that is alive.”! Two things we must consider here are that firstly, in Korea and other Asian countries, this can in some forms be considered a delicacy and that secondly, Oh is after fifteen years in captivity, perhaps feeling the need to demolish a life in return. Or even in his confused and clouded state, that he can “jump start” things by consuming the life force of another. That said, a scene were a man grasps and bites the head off a baby octopus, whilst its tentacles lash out in a last attempt for survival, is not soon forgotten. Though an extreme example, Oldboy is littered with memorable scenes which are all beautifully shot. Park seems to have taken time to make sure each still is a piece of art in its self- which at times can be overwhelming and. The colour is intense and only add to the horror- a gloomy room is sickly pea green, when Oh is forced to mutilate himself, his blood is red. However it can also add so much in the opposite direction, most notably in the last scene which is set in the most surreal of snow covered forests. Each scene is a story in itself, and when added to the almost Italian sounding melody which plays constantly throughout, the film takes on an operatic feel, with all the high emotion of the theatre. Whilst Hollywood may also, with its huge budgets, be capable of recreating such breathtaking scenes, it would never have the time to spend making each one so relevant to a story. For the fact of the matter is, not one word or movement in Oldboy is without reason. Even the setting of scenes have double meaning- a snow covered forest encaptures a fresh new beginning perfectly, and the huge room where Oh learns the reasons behind his torment, signals an end to his imprisonment. It is here that Park shows that he is more than another shock movie maker attempting to cash in on the success of Tarantino (who incidentally campaigned on Oldboy's behalf during the 2005 Cannes Film Festival). No matter how improbable a scene may appear or how unrelated to or announced by the previous scene it may be, it is never there just to fill the time. Park has led us into the most elaborate of labyrinths, all the time knowing his way out. Whilst being wholly original, Park also shows his love for film in the nods he casts to some of the great filmmakers past and present. His split screen technique is an obvious homage to Hitchcock as is the dramatic score. Whilst the “neo noir” feel to the movie coupled with his narrator's cynical, unemotional tone, appear to have taken direction from David Fincher's work (Alien 3, Se7en, Fight Club etc).

The versatility of the camera is exploited beautifully throughout. Feelings of panic and frustration are accompanied with sharply cut scenes, and claustrophobic awkward angles. Shots cut cleverly away at the last possible moment to leave us fooled into seeing something gory, because what we imagine will always outstrip what can be shown in terms of horror. When in his “motel cell” Oh tells us how the television in his room had become his only friend, just as he does so the camera focuses on a shot of an old Frankenstein movie playing the background. This brilliantly encapsulates all of Oh's fears of isolation and how he is scared of becoming a monster in order to gain revenge. One scene notable for its unusual use of the camera is when Oh faces off in a narrow hallway with a gang of fifteen or so henchmen. Fight scenes are normally very snappily edited to create urgency and to make the combatants appear more skilled than they are. Park chooses to shoot one long continuous scene which slowly pans along the hallway until Oh reaches the lift. It feels slower than what we are used to, as if to say “Oh has waited a long time for this so will take as long as he wants”, it also finds some humour and realism in the obvious lack of skill we are allowed to witness!

Oldboy is a powerful, visceral, beautiful assault on the numbed western senses. It plays like a fairytale for grownups and should be applauded for its bravery in showing real reactions to albeit completely unreal situations rather than following Hollywood's idealised version of reality. The ending may leave some feeling a little cold or used, but Park is bold enough to maintain that he owes us nothing. Throughout the film he openly strips the human heart bare, and as we lapped up every second, we deserve everything we get.

The irony is that capitalism is ashamed of its own materialist measures, so its stories always add an extra layer to cover the economic drive. Robin Wood calls this surplus “the Rosebud syndrome” (2004, p. 719), a reference to Orson Welles's famous movie Citizen Kane. After a lifelong pursuit of power and wealth, Kane, on his deathbed, longs for Rosebud, his childhood sled. Disney's Rosebud may be best represented by the kite of the unemployed father at the end of Mary Poppins: it symbolizes the sentiment of family love-one can be poor and happy at the same time.

In a traditional patriarchal American family, the father is the protector and breadwinner, and the mother is the nurturer and caregiver. Consequently, classic Disney male heroes fight for survival and success, while the female protagonist is preoccupied with love and marriage. If she has a job, it is usually babysitting or teaching. This division explains the gender distinction between Dumbo's flight and Cinderella's fantasy. Beneath Cinderella is the domestication of women-girls being socialized by their stories to wait in their tower, like Rapunzel for Prince Charming.

That which is rarely represented or altogether hidden can also be ideological. Whitemale centered, Disney classics rarely feature other races and cultures. If they are represented, they are often stereotyped: the blacks sit by the railway to sing while foreign or aboriginal cultures are locked in their past, romanticized or demonized. For example, the crows in Dumbo are one notable representation of African Americans. Seemingly uneducated and unemployed, they nonetheless are happy (Rosebud syndrome). Similarly, homosexual relations are taboo. Critics like Eleanor Byrne and Martin McQuillan argue that the “brotherhood” of the Merrie Men in The Story of Robin Hood and the “friendship” of the Seven Dwarfs project “homosocial desire” (1999, p. 137), but such interpretation may be overdriven by the political scope of the critics.

Nevertheless, the difficulty in connecting Disney classics to homosexual themes proves that Disney has a schema of compulsory heterosexuality. Even today, when the issue of gay and lesbian relationships has become an open social discourse, Disney's representation of non-heterosexual orientation remains in the dark, with only an occasional portrait of a womanly man (such as Hannah Montana's stylist) or a comic moment of gender transgression (such as the cross-dressing scene in Mulan).

As Disney began to identify with the children's market, his style began to change. By studying Mickey Mouse's change of appearance over time, paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould demonstrated that Disney unconsciously discovered the evolutionary principle of “neoteny” (Gould 1980, p. 104). Because we mammals require parental care for an extended period of time, we developed a natural affection for the baby face (big head, large eyes, bulging craniums, weak chins-in short, the “cute” look) so that we remain attracted to our young.

As Gould pointed out, in over 50 years of gradual transformation, Mickey's appearance has grown backward, from adult to baby (pp. 95-107). Walt Disney might not have known the scientific principle, but his identification with the family market was conscious. Not only does Mickey Mouse gradually grow “younger,” but he also becomes increasingly better behaved. The use of juvenility in Disney's house style is developed out of a prolonged process of experimentation; it is connected to Disney's role as a perpetuator of the American dream in the family setting.

The mature Walt Disney played the role of educator and cultural guardian. This role was not very different from that of the Grimm brothers and Hans Christian Andersen. Disney's storytelling-original as well as adaptive-had the same motivation as that of the collectors and writers of nineteenth-century fairy tales, who believed these stories should be a tool of domestic education. Their view led to the “refinement” of the old wives' tales: removing coarse language, minimizing sexual and excremental references, and so on (Carter 1990, p. xvii); similarly, Disney's classic tales carry this sense of “refinement.”

Disney's classic stories are references for life's many challenges, yet also cast a sweetened reality for the wives and children of the traditional household. At the same time, Disney's masterpieces can indeed underscore a reality that tastes more like dark chocolate than candy. When Disney's classics have happy endings, they do so only in the context of greed (Snow White), social discrimination (Dumbo), the destructive nature of humanity (Bambi), sacrifice (Old Yeller), the cycle of life and death (Perri), and cruelty (Cinderella). As the narrator of Perri explains, “Death is a necessary evil; some die that others may survive.” Or as Bambi's theme song reveals, “[L]ife may be swift and fleeting; hope may die.” Bambi can be regarded as Disney's response to a time of darkness, even though it was conceptualized, based on Felix Salten's book, before World War II. The film preserves Salten's themes of life and nature while spinning a poetic realism to portray human destruction.

In Bambi, nature, represented by a harmonious animal world, is set against a common enemy - namely humanity. As film critic Leonard Maltin described it, “The drama in Bambi is one of understatement, and its effectiveness is great. Dialogue, which is kept to a minimum, is used in a quiet way to contrast the vociferous nature of the film's climaxes. Man is never shown in the film, yet the simple statement by Bambi's mother, after a frenzied chase with dozens of deer running for shelter, that "man [pause] was in the forest" creates an impact no literal device could accomplish” (Maltin 1973, p. 56). Although Bambi survives the forest fire caused by the faceless humans-a happy ending, one may suggest-the film is overshadowed by environmental destruction and anguish. Its ending is cathartic, bringing about a release of negative emotions rather than providing a lighthearted, “happy” resolution.

In this context, the adorable portrait of the animals in Disney's house style is an effective tool for teaching children about the love of nature as well as the nature of love. Love can be defined as a necessary good that motivates one to confront death for the sake of others' lives. It is an engine of survival.

In general, Disney classics demonstrate a balance between entertainment value and artistic quality, revealing life's various challenges and expressing the diverse emotions that a child might feel. They seem to follow certain thematic patterns, some appealing to children generally and others relating specifically to girls. These themes are addressed individually in the discussion that follows.

Alice's Wonderland

The Alice theme involves the exploration of an imaginary world that is full of illogical wonders. From a child's point of view, the world is magical and strange, often overwhelmingly incomprehensible, so this theme is an attempt to identify with children's confusion and to encourage them to go on with life's journey. Obviously, the entire Alice in Wonderland is about meeting strange people in strange places. But the Alice theme also recurs in many Disney classics: the visit to the whale's stomach in Pinocchio, the dream of the pink elephants in Dumbo, the Never-Never Land in Peter Pan, the “Jolly Holiday” episode in Mary Poppins, and so on.

The journey to the strange world always provides a new perspective on life. Most of the time, Disney's adventurer does not return to reality, concluding, as Dorothy does in The Wizard of Oz, that “there is no place like home.” The protagonist in Disney's classics gains new insights about life through the magic of Fantasia. Figuratively, Walt Disney's version of Alice's wonderland is Disneyland itself.

The Pinocchio Symptom

The Pinocchio symptom is also a key element in Alice in Wonderland. Instead of the strangeness of the world, this theme refers to the strangeness of the fast-growing, constantly transforming body of a child. The Pinocchio theme is about coping with growth and socialization. It identifies with children's feelings of being out of control in both body and mind, best represented comically when Pinocchio is partially turned into a jackass.

Usually accompanying the Pinocchio symptom is the realization that things will turn out all right in time-that is, when the potential of the character's humanity is fully realized. Beneath the Pinocchio symptom is the promise of the ugly duckling's transformation into a swan (the motif of the ugly duckling being best known through Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale of that name).

Bambi's Lament

Perhaps because he identified closely with the tradition of fairy tales in great literature, Walt Disney was not afraid of discussing the loss of loved ones with children through stories. The death of Bambi's mother is certainly the most memorable moment in all of Disney's tales. But the theme also has many variations-for example, the imprisonment of Dumbo's mother, Old Yeller's rabies infection, and the entire cursed kingdom in Sleeping Beauty. Most of the time in children's films, the loss of a loved one is implied rather than portrayed.

The loss of the natural mother in Snow White and also in Cinderella is a good example. This theme is a main ingredient in the fairy tale tradition. Years ago, as Angela Carter explains, “The maternal mortality rates were high and a child might live with two, three or even more stepmothers before she herself embarked on the perilous career of motherhood” (1990, p. xix). Even with the present-day low rates of maternal mortality, the danger of the world and the unpredictability of life remain. Storytelling is a human way of coping with the hardship and complexity of life; the theme of loss and the cycle of life are crucial to children's mental health.

Dumbo's Flight

Dumbo's flight is particularly fascinating. In contrast to European literary themes that Disney inherited through the tradition of children's literature, it is the most “American” in terms of its social and political assumptions. It dramatizes the idea that, if one finds one's own individuality and strength, one can rise above hostile circumstances and become successful. It encourages children to pursue their dreams and live up to their potential. Structurally, Dumbo's flight requires a character who is socially unpopular and/or emotionally confused.

Like Dumbo, not knowing what to do with his life, the character will go through a painful process of self-realization. When the dream is realized, the character will surprise the crowd in triumph. Dumbo's flight does not recur very often in Walt Disney's films because Disney's mantra is more about “never giving up your dream” than about actually “realizing your dream.” Nevertheless, this theme will eventually become central to contemporary Disney girl culture.

The Cinderella Fantasy

Similar to Dumbo's flight, the Cinderella fantasy is about coping with hostile circumstances; however, unlike Dumbo, Cinderella finds love rather than a career. Like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella is passive. She has a good heart but no ambition. Escape, not success, is the incentive.

Unlike the case with Alice, the ordinary little girl who finds selfcontrol in dreamland, Cinderella's journey is incomplete without her Prince Charming. Although this theme has been heavily criticized for presenting a passive model of femininity to girl viewers, in Walt Disney's defense, he did not produce many princess stories in his lifetime, even though the box office receipts suggested that they had universal appeal. Loved by the public, the Cinderella fantasy is a dream of glamour, a fantasy about transcending the meritocracy of modern life through wish fulfillment in the imaginary space.

The idea that Hollywood is a different culture than that of the rest of America is an idea that must be agreed upon before one continues reading. Though most of the filmmakers in Hollywood are indeed American, several factors shove it further away from the mainstream culture. The most prominent is that Hollywood is an industry rather than a geographical location with citizens and a local economy (though this area does exist, it is not being discussed in this piece). The context of culture within an industry, then, is different than the culture of a country in many aspects. One difference is that the industry is young. It does not have the history or timeless quality of many nations. Also, the industry is faceless, as opposed to nation who has many faces, women and children. When something is faceless and removed from human experience it is much easier to become the victim of prejudices and ridicule, making it perhaps more sensitive than a country. This is represented in the many times Hollywood has been attacked over the years for being too liberal, too sexual, or too violent. Another aspect to consider when thinking of Hollywood's culture is that, like it or not, Hollywood communicates to the world, even more effectively than any other speaker for the United States.

Hollywood also looks at money differently than the rest of America. America is Hollywood's target audience. The need to cater to America's culture, thoughts, and feelings is all about survival. In his book Hollywood Genres, Thomas Schatz points to the real ruler of Hollywood, the audience that pays to see the film: “We are considering a form of artistic expression which involves the audience more directly than any traditional art form had ever done before.” With an estimated average cost of sixty million dollars per film, the producers need to be tied to the audience and create works that they will pay the money to see. Schatz goes on to say “The American cinema has been able, in an extraordinarily competent way, to show American society just as it wanted to see itself.” Because the industry caters to the audience in what they create, one could think that Hollywood then mirrored American culture. But Schatz' last quote elucidates us to the fact that Hollywood is something different, though it supplies society with what it wants it does so through the lens of its own different culture.

Suggestive of many studies into literacy it is imperative to learn the culture of the communicators. If the worldview is different, than the literacy of the community is different. In the article “Literacy and Individual Conciousness,” F. Niyi Akkinaso expounds upon this idea of “individual consciousness” and worldview affecting literacy.

“In this view (recognizing literacy as not simply being able to understand marks on a page), literacy is given an extended definition to include ways of perceiving, thinking, speaking, evaluating, and interacting that characterizes a group of individuals and sets them apart from others. The implication here is that “literate thinking” involves ways of perceiving the world and talking about it, a perception that may result from interacting with either text or text users”.

If Hollywood has a different culture or world view, than the art they produce will obviously be different (for how could art be produced that was not different when the culture of the producers thinks, perceives, speaks, and evaluates differently?). It is then a great error to assume Hollywood operates under the same cultural stipulations as you or I, especially while taking our worldview and applying it to the art Hollywood creates, assuming all the while that this is a literate choice.

Film is Text. Film is communication, indeed a permanent communication, such as literature, or the epic poem, and unlike speech which is gone the moment it comes into existence. This permanent type of communication is able to be studied and scrutinized. The mysteries hidden inside these “texts” become revealed. In his article, “On Reading a Video Text”, Robert Scholes places the importance of the mass media and film with other “Cultural Reinforcers” of periods past. “What the epic poem did for ancient cultures, the romance for feudalism, and the novel for bourgeois society, the media … now does for the commodified, bureaucratized world that is our present environment.” With film sitting comfortably as a “text”, something to be studied, we bring in ideas of interpretation to shape the true meanings of the text. Now that we understand Hollywood as a different culture in at least that it is an industry rather than a nation, we may lay the groundwork for a literacy study.

Understanding the Discourse of Hollywood and its structures for telling a story will help involve the audience more thoroughly in the film and the culture. In “Literacy, Discourse, and Linguistics”, James Paul Gee writes, “A Discourse is a sort of "Identity Kit" which comes complete with the appropriate costume and instructions on how to act, talk, and often write, so as to take on a particular role that others will recognize.” Belonging to a Discourse separates your culture further from others. In this case the structure of storytelling in Hollywood, or the “instructions on how to act, talk and write”, might seem foreign to many onlookers. It is important to realize the culture's structure for storytelling (films) because we will use these films as markers and indicators that show a shift in the industry. Films are broken up into three acts, introduction, rising action, and climax. The inciting incident appears on page seventeen roughly seventeen minutes into the film (a page of screenplay is roughly a minute of finished product) this is the point the conflict is introduced. Films have two plot points. The first comes just before the end of act 1. This is the point where the protagonist chooses to either continue the conflict or not (most do to prevent boredom in the audience). The second plot point carries the second act into the third. It is the point of hopelessness where the hero is furthest from his goal. One of the clearest example of these is the recent film The Matrix. In this, near the thirty minute mark, the hero is given a choice, the red pill or the blue pill. He is then furthest from his goal at the end of act two when he dies. Understanding the different discourse of this culture helps define it. It sets in stone within the minds of those who study it.

Films, like all texts, are a response to other texts, texts such as manners, morals, values, the things children begin to learn before they can read and write. In “A World Without Print”, Victoria Purcell-Gates suggests children read their world through the society presented them. “… children do not wait to begin to learn to read and write until they start school. Rather, they begin to learn about reading and writing from birth, in their homes and communities, as they observe others using print for various life purposes…” They begin to learn the meanings of stop signs and pick up the social norms of storytelling and even the discourse of those around them. When we study the texts and learn what they are in response to, this defines the culture and brings us closer to becoming literate in our study of film. Since examining film as a text in response to another is something different for most, we will look at a few examples of particular films which act as cultural indicators, showing us what Hollywood is thinking, perceiving, placing value in, and evaluating culture. We will understand the communication of Hollywood like never before.

Hollywood released the film Invasion of the Body Snatchers in 1956. Around this time, several major social occurrences rocked America and Hollywood. This was the time of the “red scare,” the “duck and cover”, and the “Hayes Code”. If one, when interpreting this film, asks the question, who are the body snatchers supposed to symbolize? The answer could definitely be the communists, with dialogue describing the snatchers as “cold”, “Souless”, “Evil”, “About to take over the world” or “They look like you and me”. This is an acceptable argument, especially when considering the impact of the “red scare” and the similarities between the snatchers and America's view of communists. With our understanding that Hollywood may perceive things differently, let us look at the film from the point of view of the industry. During this time a man named Hayes was implementing a code, a stamp of approval he gave to socially acceptable films. It was a pass or fail system, unlike the varying degrees of rating the Motion Picture Association of America has today. The considerably Christian conservative Hayes imposed his morals on an industry that needed to transform in order to survive. They acted as most artists do when censorship is imposed upon them, they lashed out. The retribution came hidden in subtext and beneath as symbol. Perhaps the body snatchers in this film are the Christians that are imposing their morals on them, taking over slowly and soullessly. I am not here to judge the Hayes Code as right or wrong; this is simply an observation of how Hollywood reacted.

Implementing your own culture to interpret a film from a different culture is akin to what Renato Rosaldo experienced when studying the world of Headhunters. In his article “Grief and a Headhunter's Rage” Renato Rosaldo tried to impose his own culture and beliefs onto a situation he did not understand. He, at first, explored the “exchange theory” to find a deeper explanation for headhunting; this however was deficient, “puzzling” the headhunters when they heard it. When his wife tragically died he finally understood the grief that was associated with headhunting, this combined with the cultural belief that there was no after-life led to an understanding of the headhunting that was a part of this culture. Just like trying to understand these Philippine people, if we were to impose our beliefs and understanding on something that may not also hold those same beliefs, we miss the messages within, falling short of literacy.

Those mired deep within the entertainment business are affected sometimes because they are simply in the spotlight. This culture is held up on a pedestal for the scrutiny of the world. When studying the culture one must understand the differences brought on by being in the spotlight. This is another attribute that separates Hollywood and the rest of America. This is important when grasping the literacy of Hollywood because the users of this culture, the producers, the writers, the actors and directors, are so entwined with the culture that their work reflects the struggles affecting their world. This is most prominent in a film by Eli Kazan entitled, On the Waterfront. In this film the main character played by Marlyn Brando, is a dock worker who, through family ties, gets involved with the local organized criminals. When an “accidental” death disturbs Brando, he wrestles with the choice of whether to tell on his “friends” (the criminals) or to let it stay hidden and go against what he knows is right. Before we give the ending to this story away let us look at the cultural ramifications of certain political figures of the time. During the period before the movie was released, a man named Joseph McCarthy started a witch hunt to expose the communists that may have already infiltrated the political and entertainment industries of America. During this time he pressed members of the entertainment industry to name names and give up the other communists that may have influence in society. This shook the movie industry. Those who were named as communists included industry greats such as Arthur Miller and Charlie Chaplin. Hollywood was divided into two factions, those who named names and those who did not. Eli Kazan named others “involved” in communist activities or those who even attended a meeting, his friend, Arthur Miller did not. Later each of these men created pieces of art that reflected their own struggle and made an argument for what they did. Arthur Miller wrote a play entitled “The Crucible” where a man was caught up in a witch hunt, started by a little girl who named the names of witches to get out of trouble. Understanding the culture of Hollywood and the pressures placed upon it by McCarthyism will lead you to guess the outcome of On the Waterfront. Eli Kazan Directed a film where the Main character struggled with the burden of truth and whether to tell on his friends or not. In the end he did the right thing and told on them. Realizing the text of the situations that this film responds to helps the viewer make critical literate readings about the film. Knowing how strains on the Hollywood culture affect the players in the spotlight we, as scholars, are able to examine with renewed fervor the literate choices the artists make.

Know that film is text. It is able to be studied and, according to Robert Scholes in his article, “Reading Video as Text,” it is our duty to scrutinize what is placed in front of us. To do this, we must not look only at the surface attributes of film but dive deeper into subtext, theme, and symbol. To do this, we must learn to understand a culture that, though it resides within the boundaries of the United States, is different from our own and reacts in different ways than the rest of us would. This is the burden and the responsibility of viewing film as literature in that it is a permanent text in our culture.

In the year known as “The year that changed movies”, 1999 saw an upheaval in Hollywood culture. With releases such as, Magnolia, Run Lola Run, Dogma, Matrix, American Beauty, Fight Club and several others, we saw movies all dealing with something greater than ourselves. For further information on these movies specifically, I suggest the book A Matrix of Meanings, part of the “Engaging Culture Series”. These films address the concept of searching, something Hollywood has become, a place of searching. These films are giving Americans questions and making them look for the answers on their own. This is fantastic for believers as us, who know where the search for truth will end, with the Author of Truth. It has grown into entertainment that makes people think. Unlike one Walt Disney who said, “I'd rather entertain people and hope they learned something, than teach people and hope they were entertained.” These words embodied the thinking of 20th century film, and 1999 then revolted into a new era of filmmaking that teaches and thus entertains. It is this reason that the movie theatre is being called the new church of America. Now I also must clarify this last statement. Notice the “c” in church is lower case; this statement is not trying to say that movies are going to take over the Church at all or that it threatens church in anyway. All this is saying is that like Church, the movies are becoming a place to search for the divine.

Many people see the most recent movies coming out and believe that this trend is completely Christian. And I can see why they think this, with movies such as, “The Passion”, “Constantine”, “Bruce Almighty”, “Saved”, and “Kingdom of Heaven” all coming out within the last couple years. And most people also feel that this movement was begun with “The Passion”. This is in a sense a good observation, but it seems as though to take this point of view on, is to look at it backwards. For years (basically as long as they have existed) movies have been under attack by the Christian Organization. All The Passion really accomplished, and I don't mean to sound trivial because it is a huge accomplishment, was to show Hollywood that there is a new era of filmmaking, where the Christian audience will not automatically shun whatever product is made, as in 1988. So this is just one path, another avenue of exploration that Hollywood is traveling, and don't expect it to stay forever. It is a piece of the great quest Hollywood began in 1999.

Now is an exciting time for Christians in Hollywood, Christian movie goers and non-believers. Marvel as God works through his servant Hollywood to touch the lives of hundreds of millions throughout the world. A word of caution though, do not be discouraged if Hollywood strays from the Christian route and wanders onto other paths. Please do not revert back to our old ways of disgust and hatred revolving around what many Christians thought to be a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. Just know it is but a part of the search that we all must take, and again we all know where the search for truth leads, to the Lord our God.

There. I said it. If that makes me seem old and out of it, stuck in another century (that would be the 20th), I'm fine with that. I don't mind admitting that if I was forced to delete channels from my personal cable universe, TCM would survive untouched.

Turner Classic Movies, for those of you who do not have access to it, is a cable station that plays nothing but movies. Showing movies on TV is nothing new, of course, nor is TCM unique. Television has been showing movies from the dawn of the medium, but nobody does it with the style, élan, and attention to detail of TCM.

So what's so special about Turner Classic Movies? Let me count the ways.

1. TCM is unedited and commercial free. (How this channel makes a dime I do not know. But since it was started by Ted Turner, the unfathomably wealthy southerner best known as the creator of CNN and as being Mr. Jane Fonda for a time, I'm guessing it does.) No ads and infomercials to interrupt the flow of the plot; no editing for political correctness, language, nudity or violence. Commercials, and their shockingly inept insertion into films, is why I never watch any movies on commercial television. TCM treats films with respect, even ones that don't especially deserve it. To be honest, not every film on TCM is deserving of the classic moniker. But it doesn't matter whether its “Citizen Kane” or “The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-up Zombies”- which would make a heck of a double-bill - all films are given their proper due. To be fair, it is relatively easy for TCM to show its films unedited. Until the 1960s, you didn't have to worry about being assaulted by F-bombs and gratuitous (if sometimes welcomed) nudity, sex and graphic violence. That's another reason why I like TCM so much. I'm just old enough that hearing the F-word (or worse) bandied about in movies and TV still makes me a little uncomfortable.
2. TCM means black-and-white. To many people, watching a film in black-and-white is like listening to 78 rpm played on a gramophone. My three sons hate B&W; to them, it is the sign of an old movie, and old movies are as relevant to them as Elvis. Me, I love it. When I was a kid, B&W movies on TV were commonplace. I still find black-and-white films to be more evocative. Old horror movies, a favorite of mine, are best seen in black and white. It's worth noting that ten of the top twenty films on the American Film Institute's list of best American films of all time are in B&W, including modern classics like Schindler's List and Raging Bull.
3. In its look and feel, TCM is the classiest, coolest channel on TV. The channel's graphics are real art, gorgeous and fascinating. That attention to detail carries over to its website which is an on-line gold mine for movie buffs, and a thing of beauty to look at. Aside from the TCM schedule and dozens of articles, the web site features a collection coming attractions features, which have a style all their own. (They're frequently hilarious; check out the preview for the Russ Meyer's flesh-fest "Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!”).
4. While the advent of DVDs has been a boon to Hollywood"s golden age, I would argue that TCM has been even more valuable. Thanks to TCM, today's audiences (or at least those who don't mind watching B&W films) have become acquainted with the raw power of James Cagney's gangsters, the still-simmering sexiness of the likes of Jean Harlow or Greta Garbo, and the ethereal beauty of Ingrid Bergman. George Clooney is the closest thing we have to a real, old-school movie star today, but even Clooney is only a pale facsimile of Cary Grant.
5. TCM turns the remarkable trick of never being insulting to its audience, while avoiding the pitfall of being elitist. Much of the credit must go to the channel's hosts, the warm and dapper Robert Osborne, and the younger and hipper Ben Mankiewicz. I like these guys.

To gauge just how good TCM is, compare it to its primary competitor, American Movie Classics - it's like comparing a rib eye steak to a hot dog. While TCM lavishes the care and attention of an antique dealer on its movies, AMC treats its films like disposable diapers. While TCM shows films in their original aspect ratio, AMC shows versions cropped for television. Worse yet, they show edited versions (and apparently edited by a bored guy with a pair of rusty scissors), and interrupts its films in slapdash fashion with commercials - and the commercials are all for AMC!

It's a travesty, and a missed opportunity. While TCM's schedule is made up of films predominantly from the 1930s to the 1950s (with forays into the 60s and beyond), AMC is mostly into newer, color films. What a treat it would be for movie fans to see properly show, unedited, non-commercial showings of modern classics on AMC, while TCM took care of the earlier era. Alas, AMC is no better than your local affiliate showing a movie at 2 a.m., which is a shame.

What is the appeal of a channel devoted to technologically primitive old movies, with their typically overwrought acting, corn ball dialogue and hokey plot lines?

For me, watching movies from the 30s, 40s and 50s provides a painless, fascinating history lesson. I've never seen sure if movies reflected the culture of the times, or created it. But old films reflect their time better than the music or literature of the era ever could.

Thanks to Turner Classic Movies, these important artifacts - and the movies ARE important - are lovingly preserved, studied, and treated with respect.

And that includes “The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies.”