Pretty good film.
All things considered.
Alan Arkin is impressive.
Second half drags.
Pretty good film.
All things considered.
Alan Arkin is impressive.
Second half drags.
Here is a troubling masterpiece.
Because as history unfolds, old modes of expression fall out of style.
They become crude.
And yet, this is a funny fucking film.
We encounter almost the same phenomenon with the priceless, all-world The Party of 1968.
If you like Peter Sellers as an Indian (“Do you speak Hindustani?”), then you are racist.
This is what we are told.
So, then, we are not allowed to laugh at Peter Sellers anymore.
However, notice the double-standard at work in the Pink Panther films.
No one ever says, “Clouseau is such a racist depiction of the French!”
It is because “the white man” has had the rug pulled from underneath him.
The French have everything…
The Louvre, great bread, Dijon, Bordeaux…[a nice meal coming together there, that!]
So therefore, the French should be dispossessed of their wealth in all its many manifestations.
And, sadly, that’s socialism.
Make everybody the same.
Take by force.
Doesn’t sound very civilized to me…
Rather, sounds fairly barbarian.
A shortcut on hard work.
But I’m really aiming to get under your thumb (er, skin) as regards “race”.
I put it in skeptical quotations because modern genetics has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that the concept of “race” is ridiculous.
As Geoffrey Carr of The Economist puts it, “One group of 55 chimps in West Africa shows more genetic diversity than the whole of humanity.”
I usually don’t trust The Economist farther than I can throw it.
Because there are no bylines.
And it is a clearly globalist rag.
But Mr. Carr has a point.
To put words in his mouth…if there are no races, then there must be no racism.
I’m sure some other word will suffice.
I’ll get back to you once I wade through Euclid’s Elements.
But I hope my point is clear.
If races don’t exist (a notion the globalists are pushing very hard…for ulterior motives), then racism is an absurd concept.
But still, SOMETHING exists.
Perhaps it’s just a “rose” by another name.
Which brings us to this film.
Three Amigos. It’s racist, right?
I mean, the Mexicans in this film aren’t doctors and lawyers.
They don’t speak flawless English with no hint of accent.
And though they run a small gamut, there are indeed stereotypes at work.
But is it mean-spirited?
I would argue it is not.
Or else, the Pink Panther films should all be banned out of deference to the French.
Which is no less absurd than saying John Landis’ masterpiece under review is “racist”.
But let me bring a different slant (no pun intended) to this dialogue.
In my area, south Texas, a mixing of “races” is apparent.
There are white people. And a few black people. But mostly there are brown people.
And then there are gradations.
So-and-so is darker than what’s-his-name. And so on and so forth.
And we know that this darkness in skin pigmentation (for Mexican-Americans) comes largely from the Native Americans who populated what is today the U.S. and Mexico.
Before the Europeans arrived.
But here’s my personal two bits.
This film, Three Amigos, was cherished by me and all my school chums when we were growing up.
People with last names like Lopez, De Los Santos, etc.
We were all friends.
And though we may have fallen out of touch with one another, we all seemed to find enjoyment in Three Amigos.
Indeed, my Hispanic (Latino) friends apparently found the characterizations of Mexicans the funniest.
And, dare I say it, because (as the adage goes), “It’s–so–true!!!”
Whether any characterization of Mexicans in this film is or isn’t true…that’s immaterial.
I am not the ultimate judge.
But things have changed.
And it’s not just the Trump effect.
Over the years, people have become more and more “polite”.
That’s a good thing, right?
Well, I’m not so sure…
Because it’s not a genuine politeness.
It’s a politesse which is enforced topdown.
It’s not really a choice.
And, to make dead clear, it is our old nemesis: social engineering.
It is in this sense that social engineering is truly defined.
Any other definition (the activities of a pickpocket, a conman, a hacker) is insufficient and misleading.
Social engineering is, by-and-large, practiced at the highest levels of government, at policy institutions, and in commerce by Ivy League jerks (both male and female) who wish to mold society into a shape pleasing unto them.
And like those pernicious Fabians of old, they have no qualms about smashing the world to bits if such means lead to their desired end.
The Fabians, of course, never rush anything. Unless they panic. At which time they reveal themselves. To be the losers they are.
Yes, I am no fan of the Fabian socialists.
Because their whole programme is predicated on deception and secrecy.
And, as such, it should be thoroughly suspect whenever encountered.
But this is a comedy, right?
Yes! Amen!! Something we can agree on!!!
This grand apologia is to introduce one of my favorite films.
It is not “politically correct”, but then NOTHING was in 1986.
And with “correctness” we have lost our sense of humor.
We are too easily offended.
We need “safe spaces”.
Ok, ok…I promise I’m not about to get all Bill O’Reilly here.
Because I have railed AGAINST Fox News for many years.
And, dare I say it, the real heroes in the USA were those who took CHANCES…BIG FUCKING CHANCES…to preserve liberty.
Trump came to the party late.
And I came to Trump even later.
But the real heroes are people like Alex Jones.
Indeed, there is no one like him.
But with the “Joneses” came others like Steve Pieczenik.
And so the tables have turned against the globalists.
Thank God for BREXIT!
Thank God for Trump!
And may God bless Marine Le Pen!
Because the neoliberal nightmare in which we are now mired (including the neoconservative, never-ending wars) has set the globalist agenda back decades.
The European Union is falling apart.
And rightly so.
Because it was a bad idea in the first place.
France must get rid of the atrocious Loi Gayssot.
And other European countries must follow suit.
We must be allowed to TALK!
The Internet will not allow tyranny.
Every government which seeks to control will find itself obsolete.
And so call it whatever you want.
If you’re “free market”, then the Internet is the genius of capitalism.
If you’re fond of sharing (so am I), then the Internet is the redistributive genius of socialism.
And, finally, we have the monstrosity of China.
Clearly no longer a communist state.
Yet neither a capitalist free market.
The mutant which is China…that juggernaut has been smashing the world in terms of productivity.
But there is a limit.
Now the people want FREEDOM.
[or so we are told]
At any rate, the blowback of globalism will ensure that the Chinese people crave the OPPORTUNITY (at least) to behave like Westerners.
THAT much is human nature.
And so I am not against natural globalization.
In that respect, the Fabians are right.
If “gradualism” is taken to mean “let nature take its course”.
But I am and will forever remain AGAINST synthetic globalism.
Globalization vs. globalism.
Suffice to say, I am very much against FORCED globalization.
And perhaps Erdoğan is a manifestation of reaction.
“Reactionary”, as the socialists always say. The worst insult a leftie can level!
As such, I have nothing against Erdoğan, but he can’t hold on to power IN SPITE OF the people.
Same with Trump.
Trump barely squeaked out a victory.
Because the globalist machine is so strong in America.
But rural pride was stronger.
And the Electoral College defeated Hillary Clinton.
But Trump will have to produce.
He knows this.
The clock is ticking on his four years.
And he has had adversaries on all sides.
So it remains to be seen…whether he will make good on his campaign promises.
I am standing behind him.
I am supporting him.
But I am ready to call “bullshit” when the moment is ripe.
Hopefully that moment will never come.
Hopefully he will be a wonderful President.
Which brings us back to “race”.
It’s not meant to be “a symbol”, it’s meant to be a wall.
And we in America have long known that the story of 9/11 is seriously flawed…like Swiss cheese…it is not plausible.
I often shoot my mouth off (my defining characteristic), but I have done my research on 9/11.
It may be the most complex event ever.
But it certainly was not the work of 19 blokes with boxcutters.
And everywhere…we saw the stand-down.
Two parts to Roberta Wohlstetter’s pet theory.
9/11 was no more Islamic than Mickey Mouse.
And so many signs proved this case.
If it had been an attack actually emanating from outside the United States (as opposed to an inside, CIA job), then our southern border would have been secured toot sweet.
But such was not the case.
And those of us near the southern border had all the information we needed to put the final nail in the coffin.
That 9/11 was a self-inflicted attack.
[with help from Israeli Mossad and others]
It was a team effort of the globalists.
However, to paraphrase Guy Debord, “deceit deceived itself”.
9/11 was the day when the Ivy League lost.
Once and for all.
Never again will Yale be the same.
Never again will Harvard be guiltless (if they ever were [and they weren’t]).
Brave people spoke out.
Webster Tarpley (of Princeton).
Steve Pieczenik (of Cornell and Harvard).
But now our Ivy League President (Penn) has a chance to reverse the sustained-lie–the 8-year-nightmare of Barack Obama’s unreality.
The Democratic Party squandered its chance to see the neocons swing from the gallows.
It would have been the end of the Republican Party.
But the Democrats chose more deception.
You can’t kill a dead man (bin Laden).
The fraudulent War “on” Terror waged on…with many innocent patriots deceived unto death.
And now race…racism…is but one problem plaguing us.
So, my friends, I urge you to see Three Amigos.
Let yourself laugh.
And “think about it” (as Jerry Lee Lewis was wont to say).
But don’t think too hard.
Because hell too is part of the divine comedy.
For most of the world, life is an endless battle. There are precious few who enjoy existence in a comfortable parentheses. Indeed, we here in the West can look to the beginning of our literature: The Iliad. Rage. Yes, it is the most intense disgust possible. Perhaps there are few who take the rage to heart.
It often stems from lies. Honor. Respect. Sympathy. We do not like it when our fellow humans are sacrificed. It gives birth to divine disgust when we see innocent people murdered.
Yes, some remember. Some take it to heart. And some search for the answers. They know the story is a lie. It does not honor the dead for them to be buried in lies.
From the start of this film we see Bruce Lee clawing through the lies just as he claws through the dirt which covers the casket of his dead teacher. Perhaps few can understand this sort of devotion.
There are very strong emotions which cause such lasting connections. The emotions are imprinted in our memory. We become bound to others. It is our duty to honor them in life and death.
Let’s face it: the Japanese chose poorly. How on earth did they ever (with a good conscience) ally themselves with the country which nuked Hiroshima and Nagasaki?
Likewise, F.D.R. let those men die in Hawaii. His policies might have been in the best interest of the people, but he was a cynical bastard. The blood of Pearl Harbor will forever be on his hands.
And so, we have an ethnic, nationalistic slant to this film. It is China vs. Japan. And to a lesser extent it is China vs. Russia.
The setting is Shanghai. A man returns in a white suit to marry his fiancée. But when he returns, he returns to disaster.
In some respects this film has a rather fumbling plot compared to The Big Boss, but overall it is quite an artful film. Lo Wei’s direction is generally very good.
Paul Wei perfectly plays the sniveling traitor Wu. Wu is a translator…basically the opposite of Sibel Edmonds. Though Bruce Lee initially maintains his composure when taunted by Wu, Lee soon enough returns the gift.
We must remember than Gift is German for poison. Just as Mist is German for shit. Dick, by the way, means fat.
Yes, the bearers of gifts turn out to be intimately acquainted with poison. Perhaps we can find hints of their Nazi leanings in Lo Wei’s direction. The Japanese seem to have an unfair hold on procedural law in Shanghai at this time.
There is another fleeting bit of cultural symbolism when Chen (Bruce Lee) is refused admittance to a park. He seems to simply want a thoroughfare to return to his school (after schooling the Japanese dipshits). Yet now he must answer to a Sikh guard enforcing a “no dogs and no Chinese” policy for the commons. And so we have a short bit of China vs. India.
Ah, but we risk so much by playing the hero. The true heroes often lose everything. That’s what they don’t show you in the Hollywood version. At least in Hong Kong, they seemed to know that life is a constant battle. There is such a thing as honorable defeat. Defeat rarely enters into the Hollywood lexicon when describing the protagonists.
But then arrives on Earth the phenomenon of the fist of fury. It is strength. It is passion. It is torque. It is velocity.
When Chen discovers the truth, he kills the murderers. But that is not enough. It’s time now to track down the enablers and the grand conspirators. Lee does just this. Talk about cleaning house!
Listen to “Peace Frog” by The Doors. Sure, it’s great rhythm guitar from Robbie Krieger, but the lyrics might be Jim Morrison’s best. Blood in the streets. Up to my knees. Up to my thigh. I’m not sure if Morrison ever read Gérard de Nerval, but it wouldn’t surprise me. It’s hard not to think of Nerval and Vlad Țepeș when seeing Lee gradually string up body after body from that lamppost.
But let’s talk about more pleasant things, shall we? Like Nora Miao, for instance. She is so beautiful in this film. And what a cute name! I can’t help conjuring a cat to mind…Chairman Miao perhaps.
On the humorous side we have Inspector Lo and his two assistants…sartorially identical to Bogart from the neck up. The disconnect comes when seeing their fedoras juxtaposed with traditional Chinese garb. It is truly surreal! Marlowe as Mar Lo.
The Russian connection comes from a visiting martial artist named Petrov. We must remember that Putin joined the KGB in 1975. Likewise, before Vladimir became a sixth degree black belt (or red and white if you want to get closer to Russian colors) in judo he trained in the Russian art of sambo (beginning around 1966). So perhaps the Petrov character is a lucky match to current world leaders.
The villain of the film, Suzuki, propagates a massacre of Chen’s school (which bears a striking resemblance to the thuggery from The Big Boss). What’s new is the Inspector Clouseau aspect of Lee’s persona. We see him in disguise as an elderly newspaper salesman, a telephone repairman (!), and a rickshaw driver. There is even a Chaplinesque visual humor to the telephone company employee portrayal–almost like an invocation of Jerry Lewis.
What is more, director Lo Wei eventually adds a further mystical dimension to Lee’s fighting prowess when his hands move with psychedelic tracers trailing in blurred wonder. But for every true hero a firing squad awaits. In the end, perhaps it’s better to run towards the bullets.