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dragons, fantasy, flying, free, Music, snippet, sorcery, swords

After a reading at the last writer’s group meeting it was suggested that a map of Gracarin would be helpful, which is why one was already made. Plugged it in as a new page. Cover reveal coming soon.

Fantasy fans understand, and often expect, complicated plots, lots of characters and heavy doses of weirdness. Toss in a cast with unusual names, some creepy creatures, swords and sorcery. You’ve just whipped up a fantasy. So with this fourth (not in chapter order) snippet, I added the book’s map, which will have changes and additions with each following book.

The Gracarin will be released in September. Date for pre-release in a few days.

Thanks for following!

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Blog: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/

Website http://www.MLRigdon.com

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-donner

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Three Movies in Four Days Part 3

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Bryce Dallas Howard, dance, Elton John, films, Gemma Jones, interview, movie review, Music, musical, nostalgia, NPR, Richard Madden, Royal Academy of Music, Taupin

Rocketman

Spoliers? Are you kidding? Who doesn’t know about Elton John? Familiarity with his music, and a growing appreciation of his present day style, had me thinking I might pass on this one. That would have been a HUGE mistake. On and off throughout this film I made comparisons to La La Land, which had none of Rocketman’s brilliance. Yes, I liked some of the dance numbers in LLL, but they are mediocre compared to Rocketman, especially Saturday Night’s exuberance. This is what a ‘Hollywood’ musical is all about and hasn’t been seen in way too long.

Elton John’s stage persona was/is bigger than life, but that becomes secondary in this homage to his music and Bernie Taupin’s lyrics. At some point it becomes apparent that Taupin’s lyrics are so well-woven into this story about Elton’s life and his eventual triumph over addiction, loneliness, and self-hate that it leaves one awed. And somewhat overwhelmed by the writing and production as a whole.

Look for Taron Egerton’s name in the Oscar nominations and on the fast track to win. (Haven’t seen the rest of the year’s contenders, so not sure about his ‘win’ yet.) All of the performances are superb. Richard Madden is deliciously vicious as a soul-sucking user. The always marvelous Gemma Jones warms the heart as his grandmother. Steven Macintosh as Elton’s father is a heartless creep, and Jamie Bell is subtle and true as the faithful Bernie Taupin. Elton’s brash mother is wonderfully done by Bryce Dallas Howard, daughter of Ron Howard. (Remember her as pie-eating Hilly in The Help?)

A reason for my initial hesitation to see this film was because of inaccuracies that usually accompany biopics. Then I learned that Elton was a producer. NPR interviewed him a few years back. He talked about his mother being a gunner in WWII, the influence of the Royal Academy of Music, the happiness he’s enjoying now.

For many this will be a dance down memory lane to what you were doing, or where you were, when you heard each song. Tiny Dancer shot me back to younger years in LA at the parties that went all night, sometimes for days, and the look in Bernie Taupin’s face when he said that the next day he’d be going to Paradise Cove. Back then, it was a private beach, placid and gorgeous. Now, it’s paved over, impersonal, clogged with gawkers, much like Elton’s life was about to become after that party.

Since this is a musical, something must be said about the music. Giles Martin deserves every speck of attention that must be given to what he has created with the score of this film. He has done everything possible to enhance the genius of Elton’s music without being intrusive. It’s voluptuous, reverent, electrifying and eloquent as required. He does what the very best accompanist does and that is provide a safe platform for the vocalist to shine.

Don’t run to see this film. Slap on a rocket and blast off. Elton would appreciate that kind of entrance.

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Blog: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/

Website http://www.MLRigdon.com

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-donner

https://www.facebook.com/Julia-Donner-697165363688218/timeline

Three Movies in Four Days

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ballet, dance, Dinklage, Fiennes, film, film review, Harve Villechaize, Jamie Dornan, movies, Music, Nureyev, Oleg Ivenko, Tattoo

Part 1: The White Crow

Overall, the time and money spent on this film was well worth it. If you love the ballet, it should not be missed. Since the primary subject, Rudolph Nureyev, was not a pleasant person, the emphasis on controlling an artist’s artistic freedom became an important, if not imperative, subplot. No apologies were made for the less attractive aspects Nureyev’s personality. He was what he was and no attempts were made to mask that aspect of the man.

Not many actors can be as gifted a director as they are as an actor. Fiennes is marvelous as Nureyev’s dance instructor but not quite there when in come to direction. Or maybe he needed a better editor. There were moments when the story came to a halt in the attempt to mine a juicy dramatic scene, especially when Nureyev (Oleg Ivenko) slogs through the decision to defect. The agonizing internalization goes on too long. Care with this kind of scene needs to be carefully considered and rendered. When emotions don’t translate across the screen, an actor can look constipated instead of in dire emotional turmoil.

On the other hand, the dancing is absolutely brilliant, exhilarating. Ivenko is splendid, a joy to watch. Nureyev had an aggressive presence on stage but Ivenko has the grace and beauty. I did appreciate the attempt to ease viewer transition from original fifties footage to present day cinematography.  That was cleverly done. The production departments caught the era and settings effortlessly, from the brutal poverty in Russia to Parisian elegance and self-satisfied sophistication. Nureyev’s absolute arrogance combined with his thirst for art in all its forms must have confused Parisians, perhaps as much as his hunger for the arts fascinated and made for appreciation. This is a must-see film for anyone interested in dance.

Finally got to watch: My Dinner with Harvé

Before Tyrion, there were so many other roles Dinklage performed that I am always in search for his works. It was well publicized that he was interested in Villechaize, who led an extraordinary and wretched life. As a person, Villechaize was ruthlessly objectified, misunderstood, and ridiculed. In doing so, the public never got to know an intelligent, well-educated and talented man.

Since I never watched Fantasy Island, I had no interest in Tattoo and knew little about him. Thanks to this HBO film, I learned that Villechaize was also a gifted painter. That was an upside, and the rest of his life, largely horrific. He did have a marvelous father, but no matter how he searched, he never found emotional relief for his mother’s disdain and disappointment, but he never let that or anything else stop him. Per Villechaize,“Just because a man is small he doesn’t have to act it.” He was proof that big brains can come in small packages.

This film is worth seeing for its touching performances and its backstage eye-opener about Fantasy Island. Dinklage and Jamie Dornan, as Sacha Gervasi, director and writer of the biopic, are excellent in their individual roles. It’s not a happy film, especially due to Harvé’s eventual end, probably due to his ironical conclusion that people are the same “addicted to the fantasy that something or someone would take away the pain of life.”  He resorted to pain relief with a gun.

Next up: John Wick 3 (no spoilers)

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Blog: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/

Website http://www.MLRigdon.com

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-donner

https://www.facebook.com/Julia-Donner-697165363688218/timeline

WHEN ECCENTRICS COLLIDE

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Ali, awards, classical, Dinklage, films, Green Door, inspiration, jazz, Mortensen, movies, Music, review

Now that the end of the year film releases have opened the spigot and flooded theaters, it’s time to hit the cinema. I’m eager to satisfy curiosity and test the offerings—and to make comparisons and observations—so off I trotted to the nearest cinema.

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

I waited a long time for this one. I’ve said it before and will most likely be saying it again, if you can do comedy, you can do anything. Melissa McCarthy is brilliant. Her sympathy for the abrasive, abusive, and broken Lee Israel is utterly absorbing. She made accessible a thoroughly unlikable person and will be a strong award contender and should be a frontrunner for the SAG. Richard Grant is also marvelous. He and McCarthy bring to life the strange and desperate friendship between Israel and Hock.

I’m not sure why this film isn’t doing better at the box office. Perhaps it’s some industry-insider thing, which is shameful. The story is entirely character-driven, which makes some Hollywood exec types crazed, much the same way they used to bash Spielberg when he made “serious” films, which reminds me, HBO and Susan Lacy did a fabulous documentary about Spielberg.

Green Book

Already slated for numerous awards, I mainly went to see Viggo. The man has the ability, as does Olivia Spencer, to communicate reams of information in silence. Those eyes. He killed me with them in History of Violence, and this movie has some comparisons when it comes to violence, understanding and forgiveness. It’s a story about how defensive, and ingrained, prejudice can invert itself, remold to become acceptance and admiration, an outcome unbelievable, except that it did happen. Tony Vallelonga (Viggo Mortensen) and Dr.Don Shirley, (Mahershala Ali) were vastly different men. Tony was raised in a close-knit community that denigrated blacks, and Shirley well-educated and gifted, could barely tolerate Tone’s crassness.

The film title comes from The Negro Motorist Green Book, written by Victor Hugo Green. The screenplay is co-written by Nick Vallelonga, Tony’s son. There has been some backlash from Shirley’s family, who disagree with the eventual relationship between the two men and are of the opinion that Ali does not portray the terror evoked then, and still today, living and traveling in the south for blacks. They have their opinion, but mine is that Shirley, or the storyline, seeks to portray the dignity and courage it took to do that tour. The two men aren’t worlds apart, it’s more like universes. Tony, so violent and gross of manner, is so blessed with love for his family, while Shirley, so gifted and elegant, is estranged from his. Shirley learns to accept and allow himself to see underneath Tony’s persona, a man who accepts who and what he is, adores his family and yet thinks nothing of smashing somebody’s face into a bloody mess. That which horrifies Shirley is just another day on the job for Tony Vallelonga.

Don’t get so involved in the story that you miss the connection made between these two fiercely brilliant actors. It’s the sort of interplay that makes for a SAG award.

I Think We’re Alone Now (DVD)

I’ve adored Peter Dinklage since his portrayal of a scary on-the-edge-of-freaking-out children’s book writer in Elf. And what sort of asshat doesn’t love the wickedly droll Tyrion Lannister?

This dystopian story dissects the emotional fallout of a catastrophic planetary event with none of the disaster/violence theme. Its haunting and quiet until it gets ugly. Character motivation is deep and complex with a few surprising twists. What you think is weird at the beginning is given relevance as the story unfolds. Buy it, rent it, whatever. It’s worth your time and money. I have yet to see My Dinner with Hervé, a story Dinklage wanted told.

Next up, I’m itching  to see The Favourite.

 

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Blog: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/

Website http://www.MLRigdon.com

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-donner

https://www.facebook.com/Julia-Donner-697165363688218/timeline

 

Farewell My Love

Tags

cars, movies, Music, Mustang, nostalgia, reviews

I saw Bullitt so long ago it was at a Southern California drive-in. I distinctly remember jamming my foot on imaginary brakes on the car’s floorboard throughout the car chase sequences. Baby Driver may put Bullitt to rest when it comes to breakneck driving but will never (be still my beating heart) remove my adoration for a Mustang GT. Alas, the stunt driving in in Baby Driver may have nudged Bullitt from its top spot.

Time to gladly eat my words. I’ve complained about films with distracting loud soundtracks, but Baby Driver makes it work in overdrive and—dare I say it—with synchronized perfection. Magnificent sound editing. Can’t see how any film could beat it come awards time. The only issue I had happened at the opening, the first bank robbery, when the robbers didn’t put masks on until they got to the bank door. That didn’t make sense with security cameras everywhere nowadays. The other issue I had was driving stolen cars to the meeting site after the robbery. That didn’t fit the slickness of these operators. Maybe it was some sort of statement about their arrogance and confidence, but it seemed sloppy to me.

I know other reviewers are raving about this flick as a “car chase action” film, but I have to take issue with that. I watched the entire movie seeing it as a beautifully written, exquisitely realized character-driven story enhanced by excellent direction. I decided to see it because of the marvelous cast and was not disappointed. The music, pacing and controlled violence will hopefully not distract from the cast’s superb ensemble work. The characters are clear-cut and diverse, ranging from the sweetness of youthful romance to the bizarrely sociopathic. The final topping on this delicious flick was the credits rolling to a fabulous rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s Baby Driver.

The driving scenes brought back memories, things done that I’d never tell my mom about, (like burying the needle on the Hollywood Freeway in the middle of the night in a Mustang, of course), and made me long for the days of the gearshift on the floor. So, if you have one, slide it into fourth and go see this film.

Dedicated to Marlane Sturm

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culture, customs, doctrine, dogma, Indian, Lakotah, Little Big Horn, Ministry, Missionary, Missions, Music, Muslim, Native American, religion, Sioux, spirituality

For almost twenty-six years, Marlane Sturm directed Music Ministry at Aldersgate UMC in Fort Wayne, IN. Music was not her only calling. She nurtured a fierce interest and commitment to Native Americans, especially the Sioux, and created the Bear Creek Mission. Her aim was to help. She understood their beliefs and culture. She never went to the reservation to preach, only to help, and in time, was given their trust and respect—not an easy achievement.

I only know bits and pieces of the indigenous peoples of the costal and southern US. Due to a character in one of my works, Jacob Sampson Williams, I had to research the plains tribes. Since there is so much written, and I wasn’t a scholar, I chose to use the perspective of the Northern Cheyenne.

John Stands in Timber, the late tribal historian for the Northern Cheyenne wrote Cheyenne Memories. His book became my source material for Jake, half Indian, whose mother was a German immigrant. In 1860, she travels west to help a relative and is nearly killed when pitched from a carriage during a prairie fire. She would have died, if not for Jake’s father, who finds her wandering in shock.

The Northern Cheyenne, at that time, had a different viewpoint when it came to crazy. We lock up, drug up, or shun people with mental issues. They considered them somewhat blessed, touched in the head by spirits, and therefore, were carefully treated. The camp accepted the woman who would become Jake’s mother as Human, one of the People.

Another profound difference between our belief systems is the Native American respect for Nature, their understanding that all things relate to all things. The world, its peoples, the stars and moon, everything is interconnected. Some plains tribes thought of farming the land as “cutting the Mother’s breast,” while Eastern tribes were wonderful farmers.

Two hundred years ago, our expansionism refused to accept that Indians had nations, spoke and believed differently, until they realized tribal feuds could be a useful tool. The battle at Greasy Grass (Little Big Horn) is quite different in Cheyenne Memories from the deification of Custer’s role. Industry and railroads owned the politicians and newspapers. It was essential to vilify anyone and anything seen as a barrier to expansion. The mutilations to dead soldiers at Greasy Grass was exploited in the press. The mutilations and horror of Sand Creek, where Black Kettle had been told to safely camp, then ruthlessly massacred, were far worse than Creasy Grass and included the women and children. Warriors had no respect for anyone who hurt the innocent and had long memories.

Unlike our culture, tribal leaders were chosen for their generosity, (often the poorest in camp due to giving away everything they owned), or for their spirituality and wisdom. All males fought, while the women and children hid. Some women stayed behind to fight, but children were cherished. To bombard a peaceful village was incomprehensible and profoundly evil to the People.

Why all the sad parts of history? The point is to illustrate the differences in cultures and how Marlane understood and demonstrated her awareness. We live in a world where strict adherence to religious dogma has created chaos and violence. I knew nothing about Muslims until one married into our family. He explained the kindness inherent in those who practice the Muslin faith with true dedication. I felt shame and despair that doctrine is used as a justification for hatred. I learned from his patience with my ignorance, discovered a need to study other religions, and have had my own faith enriched by the differences.

Marlane was graced with an understanding—the heart to know and live it. There are Lakotah who will never think of her as a waśicun but as wicaśa okinihan.

Enjoy your well-deserved retirement, Marlanie, but we will miss you.