Tonight I saw The Fitzgerald Family Christmas, starring Edward Burns and Anita Gillette.
Jerry (Burns) wants his siblings to gather and celebrate his mother's birthday a few days before Christmas but they all have other commitments, so plan B is to reunite the whole family—including their estranged patriarch—for Christmas dinner.
The youngest of the bunch want nothing to do with their father, still holding onto anger from his abandonment years ago; the older children are more sympathetic, but vow to leave the final decision up to their mother (Gillette).
In the midst of all of the shuffling, one sister is dealing with an abusive husband, while another brother is hoping to propose marriage to the younger girlfriend he "likes a lot." Oh, and Dad announces that he has cancer.
What I love about Edward Burns' films (he wrote and directed this one as well) is that there are always a lot of moving parts, and plenty of characters who we may or may not really get to know. Why do I love this? Because it's just like life.
Every breathing soul in our world is not necessarily someone we know, but somehow in some way, they may have a lot to do with our life. And who lives a life free of drama? None of us. So it's nice to see that dysfunctional existence brought to the surface on screen.
Everyone here feels as if they have an actual beating heart, and everyone here is someone we may like. Or not. None of the members of this family are perfect (though Jerry probably comes the closest), but all of them have redeeming qualities. The beauty is that though conceptually the family is very stereotypical (Irish, Catholic, etc.), the characters are so well fleshed-out, they're anything but one-dimensional.
Location is less of a character compared to past films such as Sidewalks of New York and Purple Violets, but the cozy interiors tell enough of a story to satisfy a sense of place.
My only real criticism of this story would lie in the underuse of Connie Britton who plays nurse Nora. She's an endearing break from the core family drama, and sparks impressive chemistry with Burns. I wish she'd had more of a prominent spot later in the film, but perhaps she's being saved for the sequel?
I suppose time will tell, but until then, I'll wonder about who will be seated at next year's Fitzgerald Christmas dinner.
~~~
Showing posts with label Irish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Irish. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Deliver Us From Evil
Today I saw the documentary Deliver Us From Evil about Father Oliver O'Grady, a convicted sex offender who the Catholic church moved around Northern California for 30 years before any charges were brought against him.
In the film, Director Amy Berg speaks with a surprisingly candid O'Grady (now living an unfairly comfortable life in his native Ireland) and several of his forever-damaged victims.
The accounts are horrific—the sodomy of a young boy who was helping with the landscaping outside the church; the rape and molestation of a 5 year-old girl (while the Father lived with her family); penetration of a 9-month old baby. And this man only served seven years behind bars, yet his number of victims is estimated into the hundreds.
What's nauseating about this story is how easy it was for the Catholic Church to dodge legal bullets throughout the tenure of this priest. They did so little to help the families and put an end to the abuse, you have to wonder if any of the higher-ups have a conscience, let alone an ounce of actual faith. What God would let this happen?
The most heartbreaking element to watch is the guilt of the parents who trusted this monster with their kids and didn't learn of the abuse until their children were grown. It's not their fault, but you can understand the responsibilty they must feel for O'Grady's actions and their absence in noticing.
Hopefully, this documentary will spark a revolution from the victims—those who have been brave enough to come forward and those who have remained silent, but want to somehow make sure this doesn't keep happening. They (along with each and every Catholic on the planet) need to demand reform and justice so this most hypocritical abuse of trust can finally be put to an end.
In the film, Director Amy Berg speaks with a surprisingly candid O'Grady (now living an unfairly comfortable life in his native Ireland) and several of his forever-damaged victims.
The accounts are horrific—the sodomy of a young boy who was helping with the landscaping outside the church; the rape and molestation of a 5 year-old girl (while the Father lived with her family); penetration of a 9-month old baby. And this man only served seven years behind bars, yet his number of victims is estimated into the hundreds.
What's nauseating about this story is how easy it was for the Catholic Church to dodge legal bullets throughout the tenure of this priest. They did so little to help the families and put an end to the abuse, you have to wonder if any of the higher-ups have a conscience, let alone an ounce of actual faith. What God would let this happen?
The most heartbreaking element to watch is the guilt of the parents who trusted this monster with their kids and didn't learn of the abuse until their children were grown. It's not their fault, but you can understand the responsibilty they must feel for O'Grady's actions and their absence in noticing.
Hopefully, this documentary will spark a revolution from the victims—those who have been brave enough to come forward and those who have remained silent, but want to somehow make sure this doesn't keep happening. They (along with each and every Catholic on the planet) need to demand reform and justice so this most hypocritical abuse of trust can finally be put to an end.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Saint of 9/11
Tonight I saw Saint of 9/11, a documentary about FDNY Chaplain Mychal Judge.
I attended a special screening made up of movie club members and guests from our own Seattle PD. I'm convinced it was the best possible way I could've spent the 5th anniversary of the attack on our country. 'Anniversary' is the wrong word, but I'm at a loss for a good synonym on this somber night.
The mood was quiet before the movie began. It might have been my imagination, but I'll swear people were more polite as they were searching for seats and settling in. The SIFF representative welcomed the audience, said a few words (folks clapped for our guests from the PD) and the lights went down. Not one peep of noise was heard for the next 95 minutes.
Father Mychal Judge was an Irish boy that grew up in New York. His father died at a young age and he and his two sisters were raised by his mother. He was always a life-loving, kind, sweet soul.
At a young age, he knew his calling was to serve God, so he began religious studies in the Franciscan order. After he became a priest, he struggled with alcoholism and his sexual orientation.
He remained a closeted homosexual out of respect for the church that he so loved, but trusted his close friends and associates with the truth. Over time, he became more open about his sexuality because he realized it humanized him in the eyes of the people.
Anecodotes and stories about his life were provided by friends, churchgoers, firefighters, politicians, priests, nuns and street people. Gay and straight, black and white. All of them mentioned his kind spirit, his sense of humor and his compassion for the poor.
An AIDS activist remembered how sad it was when the virus was still an unknown killer in the early 80s. Victims of it were isolated by friends and family in their final days for fear of spreading or catching it. Father Judge visited all of them, without protective masks or gloves and even kissed them and massaged their feet. He administered the Last Rites to dying homosexuals and spoke at their funerals with tenderness and pride for their accomplishments in life.
He was a loyal member of Alcoholics Anonymous and was 23 years sober when he was laid to rest.
He counseled families for months following the airplane crash of flight 800.
He worshiped with the gay Catholic group 'Dignity.'
He acquired winter coats for the homeless each year by persuading shop owners to give him discounts or not charge him at all, and delivered them in his official FDNY vehicle.
This hero was the first recorded death in New York City on September 11, 2001.
Footage of his September 10, 2001 sermon is played throughout the film and prior readings are told by narrator Ian McKellan.
Father Judge spoke of God's Kingdom of Heaven becoming bright with beautiful souls after devastating tragedies that capture many good lives all at once.
I can think of no one more deserving for the title of Saint than Father Mychal Judge.
I attended a special screening made up of movie club members and guests from our own Seattle PD. I'm convinced it was the best possible way I could've spent the 5th anniversary of the attack on our country. 'Anniversary' is the wrong word, but I'm at a loss for a good synonym on this somber night.
The mood was quiet before the movie began. It might have been my imagination, but I'll swear people were more polite as they were searching for seats and settling in. The SIFF representative welcomed the audience, said a few words (folks clapped for our guests from the PD) and the lights went down. Not one peep of noise was heard for the next 95 minutes.
Father Mychal Judge was an Irish boy that grew up in New York. His father died at a young age and he and his two sisters were raised by his mother. He was always a life-loving, kind, sweet soul.
At a young age, he knew his calling was to serve God, so he began religious studies in the Franciscan order. After he became a priest, he struggled with alcoholism and his sexual orientation.
He remained a closeted homosexual out of respect for the church that he so loved, but trusted his close friends and associates with the truth. Over time, he became more open about his sexuality because he realized it humanized him in the eyes of the people.
Anecodotes and stories about his life were provided by friends, churchgoers, firefighters, politicians, priests, nuns and street people. Gay and straight, black and white. All of them mentioned his kind spirit, his sense of humor and his compassion for the poor.
An AIDS activist remembered how sad it was when the virus was still an unknown killer in the early 80s. Victims of it were isolated by friends and family in their final days for fear of spreading or catching it. Father Judge visited all of them, without protective masks or gloves and even kissed them and massaged their feet. He administered the Last Rites to dying homosexuals and spoke at their funerals with tenderness and pride for their accomplishments in life.
He was a loyal member of Alcoholics Anonymous and was 23 years sober when he was laid to rest.
He counseled families for months following the airplane crash of flight 800.
He worshiped with the gay Catholic group 'Dignity.'
He acquired winter coats for the homeless each year by persuading shop owners to give him discounts or not charge him at all, and delivered them in his official FDNY vehicle.
This hero was the first recorded death in New York City on September 11, 2001.
Footage of his September 10, 2001 sermon is played throughout the film and prior readings are told by narrator Ian McKellan.
Father Judge spoke of God's Kingdom of Heaven becoming bright with beautiful souls after devastating tragedies that capture many good lives all at once.
I can think of no one more deserving for the title of Saint than Father Mychal Judge.
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