Monday Morning Movie Review: Sound of Freedom (2023)

Before beginning this review, let me state that you must see Sound of Freedom (2023).  It is likely the most important film of the last decade, if not this century, so far.  If you’d like to contribute to help others see it in theaters, Angel Studios has a pay-it-forward program.  If you are financially strapped but want to see it on the big screen—and, trust me, you want to see it on the big screen—Angel Studios allows you to claim free tickets (well, tickets, other folks have paid for).  Lead actor Jim Caviezel compares the film to Harriett Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852), which President Lincoln (apocryphally) claimed “started this great war” (the American Civil War) because of the impact it had on the burgeoning anti-slavery movement in the United States.  For what it’s worth, I think Caviezel is correct:  Sound of Freedom is waking people up to the terrifying realities of child sex trafficking.  —TPP

If cinema does one thing well, it is creating an experience for the audience.  We’ve grown used to watching big-budget, CGI-infested foolishness that overloads our senses and shuts down our brains—an experience in and of itself—but the real power of film is to make something beyond our personal experience real for us.  Sound of Freedom (2023) has that effect in bringing to life the real-world tragedy of human trafficking, specifically child sex trafficking.

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Lazy Sunday CCXIII: D.C., Part I

Back in March 2023 I chaperoned a particularly difficult group of students on a trip to Washington, D.C.  Some of the behavior and shenanigans I witnessed from other kids—and, sadly, even from my own students—was quite discouraging.  That aside, it was a good, albeit whirlwind, trip, and I’m in the process of finishing off the essays in this mini-saga.

With that said, here are the first three installments of the Washington, D.C. Trip series:

Happy Sunday!

—TPP

Other Lazy Sunday Installments:

SubscribeStar Saturday: Washington, D.C. Trip Part VI: Arlington, Holocaust Museum, Home

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After a hairy night of elevator-related shenanigans, everyone was pretty ready to hit the road.  That said, we still had a long hike through Arlington National Cemetery, followed by a trip to the Holocaust Museum, before heading home to South Carolina.

Sadly, it appears I lost the photographs I took at Arlington National Cemetery, as well as the powerful World War II Memorial from the previous night.  It’s a shame, because it’s a humbling and breathtaking place.  The cemetery is massive, with graves everywhere; even so, it is running out of space.

We chanced upon the changing of the guard ceremony, where the guards stand vigil over the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  Our tour group was a bit late hiking up the hill to the Tomb, but our students managed to position themselves in such a way as to witness the guards perform the ceremony.

Even with our typically rambunctious group and dozens of other school groups, it was very quiet.  After two long days of trying to explain to them why these places were sacred, the awe and reverence of Arlington did more to quiet their ever-running mouths more than any of my self-righteous jeremiads ever could.

Following the quiet, contemplative morning at Arlington, we had a quick lunch at a mall food court, then headed to the Holocaust Museum—a sobering final coda to our trip.

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The Joys of Fasting

Yours portly got very portly over the last year.  I struggle against two of life’s greatest delicacies:  food and women.  Without getting into too many specifics, the untimely implosion of involvement with a member of the latter led to a self-drugging with the former.  Combined with the cold winter months, when all I want to do in the evenings is eat an entire pizza while watching horror movies, yours portly’s weight ballooned from around 235.5 pounds to a disgracefully fat 271.8 pounds in a matter of six months or so.

Being morbidly obese is certainly on-brand for this larger-than-life blog (and the chunky personality behind it), but it’s not exactly good for mental and physical health.  I’d like for readers to continue to have something to read from me, so after months of overindulging, I’m finally taking steps to right the ship and throw some of the blubber overboard.

My solution is one I followed last summer, when I found myself in a similarly bechunked state (though not nearly as bechunked as I am now):  intermittent fasting.

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TBT^2: Modern Art and Influence

Doing these retrospective TBT posts reminds me of the cyclical nature of life.  Just like least year, we’re in the slow, lazy days of high summer, when the heat is so intense, a permanent haze hangs over the land.  There is something surreal about it being blindingly bright and languidly hazy at the same time.

I don’t have much more to write about modern art, although I got an eyeful of it at the Art Institute of Chicago.  Some modern art is quite striking and challenging, to be sure, but when I saw a canvas that was literally painted black, I groaned internally.  A former colleague of mine, an art teacher, always said of modern art, “well, somebody had the idea to do something, and did it, so it’s art” (I’m paraphrasing rather loosely there).

It’s one of those things that’s so stupid, it sounds profound.  Her argument was essentially that if you did something—even something asinine—first, you were creating art; you just weren’t born early enough to be the guy to paint a canvas solid black and offer up some lame justification for why it’s a study in how we perceive color.

I’m fairly certain that if I painted a canvas a solid color and donated it to the Art Institute of Chicago, they would not put it on display.  I understand that modern art seeks to “shock” viewers, but the only thing shocking about a black canvas is that it’s presented to the public in one of the finest of fine arts institutions in the country.

But I digress.  It’s all just wealthy idiots smelling their own farts.

With that, here is “TBT: Modern Art and Influence“:

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The Nature of Nature

As a people genetically and spiritually descended from the English, we Americans love nature.  The United States is a land known for its natural splendor and beauty, and our entire history is one of constantly encountering, subduing, conquering, and/or making our peace with nature.  Frederick Jackson Turner in his famous “Frontier Thesis” argued that our young nation’s constant struggle against nature—the frontier—reinvigorated our democratic and republican spirit and institutions, as we constantly adapted concepts like liberty and constitutionalism to new, often hostile environments.

Yet we retain something of the (perhaps naïve) English notion of nature as fundamentally benign, a bounteous garden for our enjoyment and leisure, not to mention our sustenance.  We imagine rolling hills of lush greenery, absent of any nasty critters or conditions that might interrupt our bucolic stroll through the countryside.  Our conception of nature is thoroughly Romantic at times, feeling more like Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony than Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (although, to be fair, both feature massive thunderstorms!).

Of course, we Americans also know something our Anglo-Scottish-Irish friends don’t:  nature is a b*tch.

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Open Mic Adventures XL: “Parada”

I’ve just got a couple of more open mic nights before I get into my school year schedule and become a slave to the grind, but I’m going to do my best to keep pumping out the goods.  This time in two weeks, I hope to have a new song uploaded for your delectation; stay tuned.

In the meantime, I’m continuing my deep dive into my obscure deep cuts, songs that I’ve never managed to get recorded in a studio.  Some of these songs are very good; some need some polish.  Whatever the case, I’m realizing that I have enough material for another EP, and I might need to get back into the studio.

This week’s feature is “Parada.”  I wrote “Parada” in 2015 during a particularly fertile period of open mic attendance. The Spanish word “parada” roughly translates to “stop” or “bus stop/station” in English. I wanted to capture the notion of lingering in a moment—stopping a poignant moment in time, trying to freeze it in place as long as possible.

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Monday Morning Movie Review: Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One (2023)

In an era of declining box office receipts and regurgitated intellectual properties featuring race- and gender-swapped protagonists to appeal to “modern audiences,” it seems the only surefire way to make a smash hit is to attach Tom Cruise to the project.  Last summer’s smash blockbuster was Top Gun: Maverick (2022); one year later, it’s Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One (2023).

Unwieldy title aside, Dead Reckoning Part One is an excellent film.  Cruise returns to portray super spy Ethan Hunt, the most resourceful asset of the mysterious Impossible Mission Force (IMF).  What makes the flick so compelling, and not just another rehash of past M:I films, is its antagonist:  a powerful Artificial Intelligence (AI) called “The Entity,” an enemy that is “everywhere… and nowhere.”

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Lazy Sunday CCXII: Ponty Week 2023

If the week of Independence Day was MAGAWeek2023, then last week was the unofficial Ponty Week 2023.  Regular contributor and right good bloke Pontiac Dream 39 (or 39 Pontiac Dream?)/Always a Kid for Today/Ponty sent in a trio of great pieces, and I decided to schedule them all for the same week.

So, in case you missed any of these excellent contributions from our favorite Englishman, here are Ponty’s posts:

That’s it for this ultra-British edition of Lazy Sunday.  Cheers!

—TPP

Other Lazy Sunday Installments: