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Movies You Missed: Apocalypto

Here is a fine example of “apology culture”; I’m about to write an article about a Mel Gibson movie, and unless I want the average reader to think I’m misogynist, racist, or anti-Semitic, I have to open by addressing Gibson’s reputation outside of film.

You know what? I don’t care what people think. I’m not here to signal virtue. I’m going to discuss the Mel Gibson film Apocalypto based upon its own merits, which are considerable. Had Gibson never acted and spoke as he did, according to the police reports and gossip vultures, I’d be talking about an Oscar winner for Best Picture. Apocalypto is the kind of film John Boorman used to make. See it if you’re skeptical. If you have acquaintances who might look askance at you for enjoying the work of Mel Gibson, go elsewhere. Continue reading →

Atlanta Is My Lady

You wanna know how to tell if a city is your home? When terrible things happen to you there, and it never occurs to you to leave. You don’t abandon your home. You stay and tough it out.

There was a night during my stay in Fulton County Jail where all of us were herded into the rec area, so that the guards could search the ward for contraband. Apparently some inmates had been smoking weed in their cell. Since that cell was mine, and one of the inmates was me, I spent my time in the rec room deep in contemplation. As time wore on no quicker than molasses, we all started to chat to break the tension.

The cement room was sweltering. The walls were nine feet high, rimmed with cyclone fencing. If I jumped vertically, I could catch a glimpse of the glimmering Atlanta skyline I missed so terribly. This was soothing. Some of the inmates I’d befriended took notice, and I eagerly explained myself. It was the first view of the city I’d had in a month.

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