The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: Touch of Evil

Touch of Evil
PN1997 .T68 2000

This baroque nightmare of a south-of-the-border mystery is considered to be one of the great movies of Orson Welles, who both directed and starred in it. On honeymoon with his new bride Susan (Janet Leigh), Mexican-born policeman Mike Vargas (Charlton Heston) agrees to investigate a bomb explosion. In so doing, he incurs the wrath of local police chief Hank Quinlan (Welles), a corrupt, bullying behemoth with a perfect arrest record. Vargas suspects that Quinlan has planted evidence to win his past convictions, and he isn't about to let the suspect in the current case be railroaded. Quinlan, whose obsession with his own brand of justice is motivated by the long-ago murder of his wife, is equally determined to get Vargas out of his hair, and he makes a deal with local crime boss Uncle Joe Grandi (Akim Tamiroff) to frame Susan on a drug rap, leading to one of the movie's many truly harrowing sequences. Touch of Evil dissects the nature of good and evil in a hallucinatory, nightmarish ambience, helped by the shadow-laden cinematography of Russell Metty and by the cast, which, along with Tamiroff and Welles includes Charlton Heston as a Mexican; Marlene Dietrich, in a brunette wig, as a brittle madam who delivers the movie's unforgettable closing words; Mercedes McCambridge as a junkie; and Dennis Weaver as a tremulous motel clerk. Touch of Evil has been released with four different running times — 95 minutes for the 1958 original, which was taken away from Welles and brutally cut by the studio; 108 minutes and 114 minutes in later versions; and 111 minutes in the 1998 restoration. Based on a 58-page memo written by Welles after he was barred from the editing room during the film's original post-production, this restoration, among numerous other changes, removed the opening titles and Henry Mancini's music from the opening crane shot, which in either version ranks as one of the most remarkably extended long takes in movie history. ~Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Watch the trailer

Watch the film's famous extended opening-shot

The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: This Is Spinal Tap

This is Spinal Tap
PN1997 .T552 2000

If there has ever been a funnier and truer film about rock music than This Is Spinal Tap, no one has had the courage to show it in public. Rob Reiner's hilarious mockumentary chronicle of the misadventures of a group of intellectually challenged British rock musicians touring the U.S. manages to laugh at and with its protagonists at the same time. While the unending cluelessness of Spinal Tap's core members, David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean, Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest), and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer), is a marvel to behold (especially the scene in which Nigel is baffled by the miniature pumpernickel on the deli tray), the leading characters also exude a goofy charm. As we watch their career slowly collapse around them, it's difficult not to feel a certain sympathy while laughing at their travails (it helps that they've seen enough of this coming to be more annoyed than despairing about their careers). Guest, McKean, and Shearer, who improvised most of the film's material, all did time in rock bands in the 1960s and 1970s, and it seems as if they didn't forget a thing; no one who has ever been in a band, no matter how lowly, will fail to recognize the arguments at rehearsal, the on-stage screwups, the frustration of getting lost en route to a show, the thrill of hearing yourself on the radio, the chore of playing for an audience that doesn't care, and the excitement of a show that goes over. While This Is Spinal Tap takes deadly (and wildly funny) aim at the absurdities of the music business and the pompous excesses of the Heavy Metal scene, it's also made by people who understand the kick of a good rock show (for both performer and audience), and much of the humor comes from the fact that this seemingly absurd tale is not far at all from the truth. ~Mark Deming, All Movie Guide

But these go to 11...

The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: Favorite Martin Scorsese Films

Mean Streets
PN1997 .M4 2003

Mean Streets was not Martin Scorsese's first film, but it was the first one that really mattered, an alternately troubling and exhilarating look at one man's obsessions and at a subculture that other movies rarely examine beneath the surface. Scorsese's fascination with sin, redemption, guilt, and crime first bore real fruit in Mean Streets, and in many ways Charlie (Harvey Keitel) is the ultimate Scorsese character: a sincere Catholic who, as a low-level gangster, has chosen to live outside the laws of God and Man, and who tries to find a penance and personal moral code that will mean something to him. Charlie's inner turmoil underscores the film's every movement, as his loyalties are torn among the church, his boss Giovanni (Cesare Danova), his irresponsible best friend Johnny Boy (Robert DeNiro), and his epileptic girlfriend Teresa (Amy Robinson). Meanwhile, Scorsese and his camera revel in the details of Charlie's world, finding a dizzying excitement and strange beauty in the violence, drunkenness, and intrigue of life along the criminal margins. Charlie seems to have one foot in the present and the other in turn-of-the-century Sicily, and the soundtrack, which combines the rickety Italian folk melodies of the Feast of Gennaro with classic jukebox rock-and-roll (drawn from records in Scorsese's own collection, complete with scratches), plays this duality for all it's worth. Mean Streets is packed with superb performances (it made Keitel and DeNiro major names overnight, and deservedly so) and remarkable moments that stick in the memory long after the film is over: the drunken welcome home party, the fight in the pool hall, Johnny Boy's strange little dance while Charlie is trying to get him out of town. If Scorsese's first two films were about refining his ideas and learning his craft, Mean Streets was where he first put the pieces together properly, and the result was the first great work from one of the most important filmmakers of his generation. ~Mark Deming, All Movie Guide

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Raging Bull
PN1997 .R34 1991

Martin Scorsese's brutal character study incisively portrays the true rise and fall and redemption of middleweight boxer Jake La Motta, a violent man in and out of the ring who thrives on his ability (and desire) to take a beating. Opening with the spectacle of the over-the-hill La Motta (Robert De Niro) practicing his 1960s night-club act, the film flashes back to 1940s New York, when Jake's career is on the rise. Despite pressure from the local mobsters, Jake trusts his brother Joey (Joe Pesci) to help him make it to a title bout against Sugar Ray Robinson the honest way; the Mob, however, will not cave in. Jake gets the title bout, and blonde teenage second wife Vickie (Cathy Moriarity), but success does nothing to exorcise his demons, even as he channels his rage into boxing. Alienating Vickie and Joey, and disastrously gaining weight, Jake has destroyed his personal and professional lives by the 1950s. After he hits bottom, however, Jake emerges with a gleam of self-awareness, as he sits rehearsing Marlon Brando's On the Waterfront speech in his dressing room mirror: "I coulda been a contender, I coulda been somebody." Working with a script adapted by Mardik Martin and Paul Schrader from La Motta's memoirs, Scorsese and De Niro sought to make an uncompromising portrait of an unlikable man and his ruthless profession. Eschewing uplifting Rocky-like boxing movie conventions, their Jake is relentlessly cruel and self-destructive; the only peace he can make is with himself. Michael Chapman's stark black-and-white photography creates a documentary/tabloid realism; the production famously shut down so that De Niro could gain 50-plus pounds. Raging Bull opened in late 1980 to raves for its artistry and revulsion for its protagonist; despite eight Oscar nominations, it underperformed at the box office, as audiences increasingly turned away from "difficult" films in the late '70s and early '80s. The Academy concurred, passing over Scorsese's work for Best Director and Picture in favor of Robert Redford and Ordinary People, although De Niro won a much-deserved Oscar, as did the film's editor, Thelma Schoonmaker. Oscar or no Oscar, Raging Bull has often been cited as the best American film of the 1980s. ~Lucia Bozzola, All Movie Guide

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Or watch a clip from The Flintstones with dialogue from Raging Bull (contains profanity):

Taxi Driver
PN1997 .T39 1995

"I'm God's lonely man," says Travis Bickle, played by Robert De Niro in one of his finest and most memorable performances. Travis, the protagonist and focal point of Taxi Driver, is severely out of his element in New York City, though it's hard to imagine where else he would fit in; he goes through life as if the world speaks a dialect unknown to him. He seems incapable of relating to anyone beyond superficial pleasantries or casual violence, and when he does attempt to reach out to others — to beautiful campaign manager Betsy (Cybil Shepherd), to philosophical cabbie Wizard (Peter Boyle), or to teenage runaway-turned-prostitute Iris (Jodie Foster) — he runs into a brick wall despite his best intentions, as he can't fully comprehend others and they can't fathom him. Screenwriter Paul Schrader and director Martin Scorsese place this isolated, potentially volatile man in New York City, depicted as a grimly stylized hell on Earth, where noise, filth, directionless rage, and dirty sex (both morally and literally) surround him at all turns. When Travis attempts to transform himself into an avenging angel who will "wash some of the real scum off the street," his murder spree follows a terrible and inevitable logic: he is a bomb built to explode, like the proverbial gun which, when produced in the first act, must go off in the third. While De Niro's masterful performance brings Travis to vivid life, it's Scorsese's dynamic, idiosyncratic visual storytelling (given an invaluable assist by cinematographer Michael Chapman) that provides the perfect narrative context. Capturing New York's underbelly with a palate of reds and yellows that burn with an evil glow, Scorsese fills the story with tiny details and offhand moments that form the fully rounded reality of Travis' fallen world. If De Niro produced one of film's most troubling portraits of a lost soul, Scorsese created a painfully vivid purgatory for him to live in, and, alongside Raging Bull, Taxi Driver marks the finest work of this actor/director team. ~Mark Deming, All Movie Guide

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The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: Don't Look Back

Don't Look Back
ML420.D98 D95 1967

Bob Dylan is one of the most important figures of 20th century America and 1965-1966 was his most prolific period. Within this short time he wrote, recorded, and released three masterpieces (Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, and Blonde on Blonde), plugged in and got booed at the Newport Folk Festival, toured Europe twice, and changed the face of rock & roll. The first European tour was chronicled in Don't Look Back, a documentary by D.A. Pennebaker, who was wise enough to give very little screen time to stage performances. Instead, he turned the camera on inside limos, hotel rooms, and backstage, giving us the man behind the music. Seeing performers behind the scenes is common today with Behind the Music and similar programs, but in 1965, the idea that someone could be just as interesting off-stage as on was radical thinking. The film captures a critical time in Dylan's career, having just released Bringing It All Back Home, his first "electric, rock & roll" record; he is changing so quickly that he literally can't even keep up with himself. When he booked the tour, he didn't assemble a band, because at that time, he was still a solo performer. Now, he clearly wants to move past the old material, but can not due to the fact no one is backing him up. His frustration runs so deep that at one point in the film when a mic cuts out while he's performing, he keeps playing despite the fact he can't be heard. He's annoyed with journalists who want him to explain what his impact has been when he just wants to keep going, and not look back. Much is made of his savage treatment of the press in this film, but it's the smaller moments that make this a must-see. These include an impromptu hotel room performance of "Lost Highway", a view of Bob working out a song on a piano, and a hysterical conversation where Dylan and his manager, Albert Grossman, try to figure out why the English press is calling him an anarchist. Other treats include very rare footage of Dylan at 19 performing for a small group of blacks in the Deep South and the famous "Subterranean Homesick Blues" clip. Don't Look Back is an uncompromising look at an artist dealing with the burdens of fame while trying to grow, and is required viewing for all music fans. ~Scott Engel, All Movie Guide

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Watch a clip from the film (contains profanity):

Watch two student-filmmakers who are obsessed with Don't Look Back travel to N.Y.C. to find Bob Dylan:

The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: Miles Davis Trifecta

Birth of the Cool / Miles Davis
M1366.D38 B57 2001

So dubbed because these three sessions — two from early 1949, one from March 1950 — are where the sound known as cool jazz essentially formed, The Birth of the Cool remains one of the defining, pivotal moments in jazz. This is where the elasticity of bop was married with skillful, big-band arrangements and a relaxed, subdued mood that made it all seem easy, even at its most intricate. After all, there's a reason why this music was called cool; it has a hip, detached elegance, never getting too hot, even as the rhythms skip and jump. Indeed, the most remarkable thing about these sessions — arranged by Gil Evans and featuring such heavy-hitters as Kai Winding, Gerry Mulligan, Lee Konitz, and Max Roach — is that they sound intimate, as the nonet never pushes too hard, never sounds like the work of nine musicians. Furthermore, the group keeps things short and concise (probably the result of the running time of singles, but the results are the same), which keeps the focus on the tones and tunes. The virtuosity led to relaxing, stylish mood music as the end result — the very thing that came to define West Coast or "cool" jazz — but this music is so inventive, it remains alluring even after its influence has been thoroughly absorbed into the mainstream. ~Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide

Kind of Blue / Miles Davis
M1366.D38 K5 1987

Kind of Blue isn't merely an artistic highlight for Miles Davis, it's an album that towers above its peers, a record generally considered as the definitive jazz album, a universally acknowledged standard of excellence. Why does Kind of Blue posses such a mystique? Perhaps because this music never flaunts its genius. It lures listeners in with the slow, luxurious bassline and gentle piano chords of "So What." From that moment on, the record never really changes pace — each tune has a similar relaxed feel, as the music flows easily. Yet Kind of Blue is more than easy listening. It's the pinnacle of modal jazz — tonality and solos build from the overall key, not chord changes, giving the music a subtly shifting quality. All of this doesn't quite explain why seasoned jazz fans return to this record even after they've memorized every nuance. They return because this is an exceptional band — Miles, Coltrane, Bill Evans, Cannonball Adderley, Paul Chambers, Jimmy Cobb — one of the greatest in history, playing at the peak of its power. As Evans said in the original liner notes for the record, the band did not play through any of these pieces prior to recording. Davis laid out the themes before the tape rolled, and then the band improvised. The end results were wondrous and still crackle with vitality. Kind of Blue works on many different levels. It can be played as background music, yet it amply rewards close listening. It is advanced music that is extraordinarily enjoyable. It may be a stretch to say that if you don't like Kind of Blue, you don't like jazz — but it's hard to imagine it as anything other than a cornerstone of any jazz collection. ~Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide

Watch a clip from 1958 of Miles Davis and John Coltrane performing "So What":




The Complete Bitches Brew Sessions / Miles Davis
M1366.D38 B582 1998

Columbia's continuing summation of the career of Miles Davis through lavish box-set reissues resumed in 1998 with The Complete Bitches Brew Sessions, a four-disc set including all the music from the original 1970 double-album Bitches Brew plus over two additional hours of music from the six-month period during which the album was recorded. (Some of those tracks were previously released on compilations like Big Fun and Circle in the Round, but almost one-third of the material lay unissued until this release.) The music is simply fabulous — the simultaneous birth and peak of jazz-rock/fusion, with a host of major players (John McLaughlin, Chick Corea, Joe Zawinul, Wayne Shorter, Jack DeJohnette) and many innovations. There is a bit more evidence of tape hiss than in Columbia's last American remastering of the album, but the revelations of depth and timbre more than make up for it. Though the unreleased selections are distinctly inferior to those released on Bitches Brew, "Yaphet," "Corrado," and "Trevere" are intriguing jam sessions that reveal much about the creative process between Davis and producer Teo Macero during recording. Unlike Columbia's previous sets in the series (one treating Miles' period of collaboration with Gil Evans and one featuring the music of his second classic quintet), the Bitches Brew sessions lend themselves well to a box set of this type — presenting the music in chronological order does no harm to original LP configurations as it did on previous sets, and the music here is another glowing testament to Miles' importance to the development of jazz in 1969, as in 1949. ~John Bush, All Music Guide

Listen to the title track from the album Bitches Brew

The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: Mighty-Fine Old-Timey Music

O Brother, Where Art Thou? [original soundtrack]
M1527 .O2 2000

The critical consensus at the end of 2000 was that it had been one of the weakest film years in recent memory. Which may have been true, despite O Brother, Where Art Thou?, the Coen brothers' delightfully warm and weird Depression-era re-telling of Homer's Odyssey. But for music lovers, 2000 was an amazing year at the movies, and it produced several excellent soundtrack compilations including Almost Famous, Dancer in the Dark, Wonder Boys, and High Fidelity. Even with such steep competition, the soundtrack album for O Brother, Where Art Thou? may be the best of the year. In order to capture the sound of Mississippi circa 1932, the Coens commissioned T-Bone Burnett, a masterful producer whose work with artists like Elvis Costello, Sam Phillips, Joseph Arthur, and Counting Crows has earned him a special place in the folk-rock hall of fame, to research and re-create the country, bluegrass, folk, gospel, and blues of the era. The Coens were so taken with Burnett's discoveries that the film became a unique sort of musical revue. There are no original compositions here (though Burnett is given a "music by" credit usually reserved for composers), and the characters do not generally break into stylized song and dance numbers (as they do in, say, Everyone Says I Love You). But nearly every scene in O Brother is set to a period song, and the music frequently drives and defines the action. With two exceptions — a stunning 1955 Alan Lomax recording of a black prison chain gang singing "Po Lazarus", and Harry McClintock's "Big Rock Candy Mountain" — every song was recorded for the film by an impressive assembly of old-time country veterans (Fairfield Four, Ralph Stanley, the Whites) and talented newcomers (Gillian Welch, Alison Krauss, Emmylou Harris). These recordings, which were made without the meddling clarity of digital technology, give the film much of its power and authenticity. A significant segment of the plot hinges on the (utterly plausible) notion that Dan Tyminksi's ebullient rendition of "I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow" could be a runaway hit. A memorable sequence involving three riverside sirens centers around an eerie version of "Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby." And Stanley's a cappella performance of "O Death" sets a chilling tone for a climactic struggle at a Ku Klux Klan rally. Throughout, Burnett's steady guiding hand is evident. This soundtrack is a powerful tribute not only to the time-honored but commercially ignored genres of bluegrass and mountain music but also to Burnett's remarkable skills as a producer. ~Evan Cater, All Music Guide

The Soggy Bottom Boys perform "I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow":

The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: In C

In C / Terry Riley
M1470.R44 I5 2001

If ever there were a popular work of minimalism, one that stated its purpose so clearly it could not be mistaken, Terry Riley's legendary composition In C is the one. It is a work that needs no explanation for its pulsing sequences of pitch all centering around the note and its performances have been numerous if not recordings. The Bang on a Can all-stars have recorded perhaps the most definitive version of the work so far, after Riley's own, which was issued in the 1960s on Columbia's long defunct Odyssey label. This version reads minimalism as popular music and popular music as, finally, classical. The Bang on a Can version is something that is so outrageously wonderful that no one else need ever bother recording it again. This single repeated note, meditatively engaged and then played upon in modulation, is taken by Bang on a Can and torn apart, with gritty, urban vision, rock & roll energy, and pure New York street smarts. Using a wide array of instruments (from piano, vibes, glockenspiel, cello, Wu man's pipa, clarinet, mandolin, soprano saxophone, electric guitar, marimba, chimes, and bass) for 45 minutes, this mind-flexing composition is moved through the sequence of all these instrumentalists, each coloring it just a bit, moving it a tad further outside and into the future, the dynamics shift subtly and change, direction becomes fluid, and the drama becomes white-knuckle tense after such a meditative beginning and then releases again. This is the creation of language, tonal, timbral, and spatial. There is an architecture at work in this version that erects small towers of meaning in sound and piles them atop each other until a sonic Tower of Babel is finally fully erected. The pulse never stops; it never disengages no matter which instrument or group of instruments enters or leaves the fray. It is there, constant, always being born and always dying and being transformed, reincarnated as some other sound, some other phrase, but always identified by the pulse. This is more hypnotic than any rock & roll, and more powerful than any Beethoven symphony is taken in with openness. This is music — ultimately made by a truly gifted and disciplined ensemble that share a singularly optimistic vision for modern music — that can, and will, change your life. ~Thom Jurek, All Music Guide

Listen to an excerpt of Terry Riley's original recording of In C (requires RealPlayer)

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Listen to an excerpt of In C performed by Bang On A Can:

The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Soundtracks

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring / music composed, orchestrated, and conducted by Howard Shore
M1527.S56 L671 2001

Appropriately enough for the film adaptation of one fantasy literature's most enduring favorites, Howard Shore's score for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings is traditional and majestic, using sweeping strings, brass, and choral sections to create moments of fire-and-brimstone menace as well heroic triumph. An ominous, bombastic feel runs through much of the score, particularly on pieces like "A Journey in the Dark," "Flight to the Ford," and "A Knife in the Dark," but Shore also includes respites such as the sweetly elfin, Celtic-tinged "Concerning Hobbits" and the stately "Many Meetings." The vibrant "Bridge of Khazad Dum" and "Amon Hen" combine the score's major themes into dazzling climaxes, while Enya's contributions, "Council of Elrond" and "May It Be," add a subtle serenity that gives the score balance. While it's not a particularly melodic score, Lord of the Rings nevertheless does an excellent job of conveying the film's moods through music and has more than enough presence to be appreciated outside of the film's context. ~Heather Phares, All Music Guide

Watch the video for Enya's song "May It Be":

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers / music composed, orchestrated, and conducted by Howard Shore
M1527.S56 L672 2002

Like the second installment of Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy, Howard Shore's score is big, bold, dark, and majestic. This is fitting as the movie is more action-oriented than the first, The Fellowship of the Rings, which — necessarily — spent more time on exposition and character development. It's also a good value for the money, as it features over 70 minutes of music, both instrumentals and vocal tracks (concentrated on the second half of the disc). These include "Evenstar" with the Canadian Opera Company's Isabel Bayrakdarian (who also contributed to Mychael Danna's Ararat soundtrack), "Breath of Life" with Sheila Chandra (formerly of Monsoon), "Forth Eorlingas" with Ben Del Maestro, "Isengard Unleashed" with Del Maestro and Elizabeth Fraser (the Cocteau Twins), and "Gollum's Song" with Emiliana Torrini. The latter is a British vocalist of Icelandic and Italian extraction, who has worked with Tears for Fears' Roland Orzabal and Iceland's Gus Gus. "Gollum's Song" is a tribute, of sorts, to the half-CGI, half-actor-created character (Andy Serkis provided his distinctive voice and physical movements) who handily walks away with the film. The affecting song ("We are lost/We can never go home"), which plays during the end credits, was written by Jackson's wife, Fran Walsh, and sets things up nicely for The Return of the King, the final book in J.R.R. Tolkien's trilogy. Despite the critical and commercial success of The Two Towers, the strong orchestral work, and the more inspired selection of vocalists, the soundtrack was not nominated for an Oscar, whereas Shore took home the gold statuette (his first) for his work on The Fellowship of the Rings. ~Kathleen C. Fennessy, All Music Guide

Listen to excerpts from The Two Towers


The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King / music composed, orchestrated and conducted by Howard Shore
M1527.S56 L673 2003

The monumental task of scoring — in rapid succession — three of history's most anticipated films has done little to temper the fire that fuels composer Howard Shore's vision and enthusiasm. With each installment of New Line Cinema's Lord of the Rings trilogy, his seemingly bottomless cauldron of memorable motifs and affecting character themes washes over Peter Jackson's Middle Earth like a coat of varnish, bending each frame to its will. If The Fellowship of the Ring was its heart and The Two Towers its body, then The Return of the King is the series' soul. Opening with a Brahms-like veil of strings that deftly segues into a solo violin variation on the main melody, Shore begins by re-revisiting themes from the previous films. By the time he reaches the devastating "Steward of Gondor" — featuring a heartbreaking tune sung by Hobbit (Billy Boyd) — the mood has shifted from nostalgia to urgency, channeling the protagonists' desperation to complete their harrowing journey. "Twilight and Shadow" uses the gorgeous voice of soloist Renee Fleming to add weight to Arwen's (Liv Tyler) decision on whether or not to choose love over immortality, and "Shelob's Lair," with its dissonant bursts of percussive brass, cements Shore as this generation's Bernard Herrmann. The real magic begins with "The Black Gate Opens," a nervous breath and the calm before the storm, anchored by James Galway's tin whistle. That breath is needed, as what follows is the culmination of nearly five years of work. "The End of All Things" explodes with a variation on the choral arrangement that normally accompanies the Ringwraiths, and inter-cuts it with the voice of the ring — a boy soprano — before launching into the ten-minute "Return of the King." Like a Wagner opera, Shore methodically places familiar themes within the context of emotional turmoil, avoiding the forgettable nonstop dissonance that others apply to battle scenes with sweeping, often nightmarish melodies that linger for days. It's this dedication to memorable composition that makes "The Grey Havens" — the film's epilogue — so compelling. With its soft, bittersweet strings, it packs an emotional impact that would have resonated only on the surface had he taken a by the book approach to scoring the action sequences. Shore and Jackson are visionaries for whom this was a labor of love, and these films are a testament to their nearly inhuman resolve and tenacity. Despite the inclusion of a lovely yet unnecessary song by Annie Lennox, The Return of the King marks the end of an extraordinary collaboration that's destined to be celebrated and studied for generations to come. ~James Christopher Monger, All Music Guide

Listen to excerpts from Return of the King

The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: City of God

City of God
PN1997.2.C53 2003

Fernando Meirelles' City of God starts with a bang, and it doesn't just unfold quickly -- it flies at the audience like it was shot out of a cannon. Based on the novel by Paulo Lins, it's a vibrantly hyperkinetic, hyperstylized gangster-drug saga in the tradition of Goodfellas and Trainspotting, complete with jump cuts, whip pans, split screens, freeze frames, elliptical leaps back and forward in time, and wry, self-conscious narration. But City of God has its own unique soulfulness as it explores a vortex of intense poverty and violence that sucks in young men and boys of varied temperaments, who grow up more cynical and violent with each successive generation. Based on actual events and well-cast with nonprofessional young actors pulled from Cidade de Deus, a government-built slum outside Rio de Janeiro, the film exposes a shadow world just miles from a tourist paradise. Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues), a good-natured boy who comically learns that he's not cut out to be a hoodlum, decides to become a photojournalist. He's the film's audience/author surrogate, narrator, and moral center. Lil' Dice (Douglas Silva), meanwhile, is a natural-born killer, a sociopath who craves power and loves violence. He grows up, changes his name to Lil' Zé (Leandro Firmino da Hora), and takes over most of the city's drug trade. They're surrounded by an assortment of colorful, well-drawn characters, each of whom eventually have to confront the consequences of their violent lifestyle. While Lil' Zé is the closest the film comes to a real villain, he's shown to be fully human, winning a little bit of audience sympathy when he confronts the fact that he can't find a girlfriend, before again veering off into psychotic mayhem. City of God is a thrilling, sardonically witty, vital, and disturbing cinematic tour de force. ~Josh Ralske, All Movie Guide

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The All-Time Mabee Top Ten: The Complete Hank Williams

The Complete Hank Williams / Hank Williams
M1630.18.W52 C65 1998

Between 1986 and 1987, Mercury launched its first effort to chronicle Hank Williams' complete recorded works, releasing a series of eight double albums/single CDs which were later collected as a box set. Both the individual compilations and the box set were pulled from the market in the '90s, clearing the way for The Complete Hank Williams, a ten-disc box set which purported to contain all of Williams' recordings. Mercury, however, played it a little loose with their terms, deciding that "complete" covers the studio recordings, demos, and selected live performances, leaving overdubbed tracks and many live cuts (including much of The Health and Happiness Shows, which was released as a separate collection) in the vaults. This is bound to frustrate some collectors, but it makes for a better listen, actually. Instead of piling all the recordings into an impenetrable chronological trawl through Williams' recording life, the compilers logically devoted specific discs to the studio sessions, live cuts, and demos. In particular, the studio discs are quite compelling, but for hardcore fans, the previously unheard live performances (including several songs that Williams only performed in concert) are the real treasures. Then again, only hardcore fans will invest in such a lavish, extensive box set as The Complete Hank Williams, and there's little question that they'll be quite pleased with it. ~Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide

Watch a video for the Hank Williams song "Honky Tonk Blues":



Here's a clip from 1964 of Hank singing "Your Cheating Heart":