Archive for March, 2007

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The Man from Calanda (An Inevitable Bit of Discussion)

March 5, 2007

A screenwriter named Jean-Claude Carrière once stated that if Luis Buñuel had been born in a different time, he still would have been the same Luis Buñuel. Fortunately, for us, Buñuel was born in a great time that seemed suited only for him. The time of the Surrealist.

From the moment he showed the slicing of young girls eye by a straight edge razor on screen, we knew that he was to be the czar of all filmmaking oddities. We also knew that he was to be a giant of controversy. His general dislike towards the message of Christianity was a constant theme in his films, and was never subliminally brought across; it was in the open for all men to see.

As odd a man he was, and fundamentally disagreeable to myself, he is one of the most influential giants, of whom’s shoulders I stand upon. His work contains a sheer magnetism that cannot be surpassed (especially by the filmmakers of today). The fact that he openly stated his beliefs and disgusts towards society, and was not afraid to do so, is quite inspiring.

His work wasn’t always dealing in the sanctity of religion, but sometimes in the throws of sex. It was his second most talked about subject. Another inspiring aspect of the man’s work; the ability to talk about the taboos of “S” word in the time 1920s-1970s world.

The funny little bastard would have never survived the Reagan era. I guess that’s why it seems so appropriate that death came to him when it did. When he died just before the “dark years” of cinema, he left a note in his work that said he would never be tied down, never be stopped. Not by the church, not by politics, and not by the weak stomached. Sure some of his work had been once banned, but not by the likes of which the 80s would have dealt. It shows that it was not meant to be.

It’s safe to say that Luis Buñuel was born at the right time and he died at the right time.

Kyle W. Sutton

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Of Mice and Mold

March 4, 2007

They cross the world’s great oceans to spill their blood upon the sands of a one day forgotten desert. They perish for a land that is not ours. Their end is one of sacrifice, yet many of them return unsung. Most of them.

The Wounded SoldierThose who return from their call of active duty with the wounds of battle upon them, are promised a caring treatment from our great government along with one of it’s appointed curators, Major General George Weightman. They are given the privilege to stay in the halls of building 18 of the Walter Reed Hospital; the rotting, pest infested, molding infrastructure that houses our heroic wounded.

How devilish that “our boys” are sent to a hell across the globe, and return harmed (mentally and physically) only to find recovery in a wet paper bag. It is a testament as to why so many have come to distrust our great government. They constantly prove that the objective matters over the human element, and that a casualty is statistic; not a human life. It is then us who have to shoulder their great follies for the rest of the world to see.

Their mistakes like this reflect the people of our society in the eyes of every other nation. We can only hope that they can salvage the pieces of their sunken act, before our empire makes it’s great fall.

Kyle W. Sutton