HERCULEAN LABORS

It was a busy and oddly Italianate weekend for Your Humble Narrator. Luckily, I had the stamina to get through it, as this rare shirtless photo of me demonstrates…

Sunday afternoon my pal Dave and I saw Arizona Opera’s Hercules vs. Vampires, Patrick Morganelli’s operatic setting of the 1961 Mario Bava “peplum” Hercules in the Haunted World, performed live to a screening of the film. It was a great time, from the show itself to the witty pre-show Q&A by Morganelli to the wacky props in the lobby with which we were encouraged to play... 

All of this came on the heels of my adventure up north the previous day.

Despite having lived in Phoenix nearly 26 years, and despite having had its virtues extolled to me multiple times from multiple sources, I had never visited the city of Prescott, an hour and half to the north. Never, that is, until they offered me pizza.

When I was asked to judge the inaugural edition of Prescott Pizza Palooza, a fundraiser for Prescott Meals on Wheels, this was a duty I did not shirk. I mentioned this honor to my pal Richard, one of the town’s extollers, and he kindly offered to drive me up to and drop me off at the event. He did not, however, join me for pizza, as there was a German restaurant nearby at Lynx Lake he wanted to try.

The event, held on a blocked-off street adjacent to Courthouse Square, featured six pizzerias. For fifteen bucks, you got ten tastings—a great deal in any case, and all the more so when you know the money’s going to a good cause. Only two of the pizza-makers there were local—Mama’s Artisan Pizzeria in Prescott Valley and Two Mamas’ Pizza near downtown Prescott. The rest were familiar chains: Papa John’s, Rosati’s, Pizza Hut and…

 

…Little Caesar’s.

There were four categories of competition—traditional, exotic, gluten-free and dessert. Trying to pace myself, over the three hours or so I was there I dutifully sampled at least one slice of everything that was in competition—something like 13 pieces in all—although toward the end I was just taking a bite or two and dumping the rest. I’m capable of serious eating, but I felt pretty woozy by the end, and I belched audibly, twice, while chatting with the lady who planned the event (she just laughed, which made me feel all the more like an uncouth lout).

It wasn’t a blind tasting, but insofar as I can be unbiased, I really think that the best bites I had all day came from the local joints, especially Mama’s Artisan’s luscious ricotta-topped Mama’s Pesto Especial. I was pleased to see that my voting was reflected in the outcome; both Mama’s Artisan and Two Mamas’ were among the winners. In coming years, I would hope to see more local, independent pie-makers represented, and maybe some from elsewhere in the state or region, but in any case it was a fun and delicious way to spend a gloriously cool, sunny Saturday.

Then, when I got back to Phoenix in early evening, The Wife and The Kid requested to be taken to California Pizza Kitchen for dinner. Fish tacos for me.

HOTSHOTS, HITMEN & HERCULES

Opening this week:
 

Only the Brave—Wildland firefighting is regarded, on the whole, as more strenuous and demanding than structure firefighting, and usually more dangerous. But it isn’t more cinematic. A structure firefighter with a hose gets to enact one of the iconic cinematic dynamics—shooting at an enemy. But the methods of wildland firefighters, while no less agonistic, are subtler—digging in the dirt, cutting trees and brush with chainsaws, and sometimes, counterintuitively for us laypeople, actually setting fires.

This is what we get in the firefighting sequences of Only the Brave, the story of the Granite Mountain Hotshots, the wildland crew connected to the Prescott, Arizona fire department. Nineteen of these young men—all but one member of the active crew—died in the Yarnell Hill Fire in June of 2013, in the worst loss of firefighters since 9/11, and the worst  loss of wildland firefighters since the ‘30s.

There’s terrifying spectacle, certainly, in a wildfire, but the response to it is guys hiking, digging, sawing. So the meat of the film is less this drudgery than the lives of hotshots, and especially that of Brendan “Donut” McDonough (Miles Teller), who was assigned as a lookout that day and thus became the Ishmael of the Granite Mountain Hotshots. McDonough had a history of substance abuse and petty crime until he became a hotshot, and was mentored by Granite Mountain Superintendant Eric Marsh (Josh Brolin).

Despite the hopeful outcome of McDonough’s story, there’s no good way to present this material that isn’t horrifying and heartbreaking, and director Joseph Kosinski doesn’t try. There’s a sense of restraint and dignity to his work, and that of the actors. The flavor for much of the movie’s length is that of a John Ford/Howard Hawks/Raoul Walsh male bonding drama, and there’s action and humor and touching sentiment and inspirational uplift, but a somber tinge hangs over it, at least for viewers who know where the story’s heading.

This is reflected in Brolin’s performance. The movie’s Marsh has a look in his eyes that suggests a foreknowledge of disaster, and a sad acceptance of it. It’s an old-school star turn in the Henry Fonda vein, one of Brolin’s best. He even gets a Sam Shepherd-ish Oscar-clip monologue about the flaming bear that haunts his dreams. But Teller also does strong work in the “tenderfoot” role of McDonough, Taylor Kitsch throws a charge into his scenes as hotshot Christopher Alan MacKenzie, and Jeff Bridges, as wildland chief Duane Steinbrink, has a great moment, a small groan of grief that’s like a gut punch.

I had the opportunity to talk with Kosinksi and Brolin before the film’s opening, and they both stressed how they spent a lot of time in Prescott with the families and friends of the hotshots, and became close to them, in order to achieve authenticity. But this may have led the filmmakers, in understandable deference to the feelings of the survivors, to omit or soften errors or interpersonal conflicts within the crew that maybe had a bearing on the disaster. The climactic scenes, though inevitably powerful, also leave it unclear as to what led to the decisions that placed the crew in the path of the fire.

Partly, no doubt, this is because it remains unclear even from reports of the official investigations. But in terms of the movie’s narrative, it’s just confusing, and it’s about all that keeps this well-crafted, well-acted movie from feeling like a triumph.

You can check out my interviews with Brolin and Kosinski, by the way, on the New Times blog.

On a lighter note...

Killing Gunther—Saturday Night Live alumnus Taran Killam wrote, directed and stars in this broad, zany comedy about murder. Killam plays Blake, a high-end assassin leading a plot to kill a legendary veteran hitman known as Gunther (Arnold Schwarzenegger).

Blake's team includes a bomber (Bobby Moynihan), a sniper (Hannah Simone), an insufferable tech whiz (Paul Brittain), a poisoner (Aaron Yoo) and other wacky specialists. The central absurd gag is that Blake has hired a film crew to chronicle the mission, so that as with The Office and Modern Family, this movie can employ faux-documentary devices, including straight-to-the-camera monologues.

It's possible that Killing Gunther simply suffers from unfortunate timing; its bloody shootings and mayhem didn't seem as funny to me right now as they might have at another time. That said, just about any six or seven minute stretch of this movie would make a servicebly amusing SNL sketch, and is good for a few chuckles. The cast is strong, but Schwarzenegger, who doesn't show up until quite late in the proceedings, probably shows more gleeful comic energy than anyone.

Killam's principal comedic mechanism here is deflation. Again and again, someone will be on the verge of a dramatic flourish, and they'll be interrupted, or forget what they were going to say, and the mood will be broken. It's as if the anger under the gags is at life's failure to be like the movies.

One more note: In case you haven't had your fill of me, you can check out my very short article, on The PHiX, about Arizona Opera's production of Hercules vs. Vampires this weekend.

ROCK OPERA

This weekend Arizona Opera presents Hercules vs. Vampires...

...Patrick Morganelli's musical setting of Mario Bava's goofy but visually lush 1961 sword-and-sandal fantasy Ercole al Centro della Terra (known in English as Hercules in the Haunted World). So...

Monster-of-the-Week: ...this week's honoree is Procrustes, here depicted as an ambulatory rock...

...but still up to his traditional shtick of stretching people, or chopping them down, in order to get them to fit in bed.