Category: Books

A Story of the Land and the People: Centennial Miniseries

CentennialIn October 2012, Alex Karras, a defensive tackle for the Detroit Lions passed away. Many will remember him for his excellent play on the field or his nights in the Monday Night Football booth. Or maybe they will remember him as Mongo in Blazing Saddles (1974) or as George Papadapolison the TV series Webster (1983-1987). But to me he will always be Hans Brumbaugh, the immigrant who started out as a gold miner and ended up as a Colorado farmer in the miniseries Centennial.

I have already written about one of my favorite TV miniseries, Lonesome Dove, but another one of my all-time favorites is the 1978 12-part Centennial, which originally ran on TV in two and three hour segments over a four-month period. The show dramatized the settling of the West over centuries by focusing on one town in Colorado.

Like many of the 1970s miniseries, the show was a who’s who of TV stars and others, including: Chief Dan George, Robert Conrad, Richard Chamberlain, Lynn Redgrave, Sharon Gless, Timothy Dalton, Barbara Carrera, Robert Vaughn, Brian Keith, Raymond Burr, Richard Crenna, David Janssen, Donald Pleasence, Dennis Weaver and Alex Karras. Another two of the stars, Andy Griffith and Chad Everett, also recently passed away. Rotten Tomatoes reports that at the time, Centennial was the most-expensive, the longest, and most complicated miniseries up to that time, with four directors and more than 100 speaking parts.

When the miniseries first ran, I rushed out and bought the very long book by James Michener, who wrote many other novels adapted for film or TV like South Pacific (1958) and Hawaii (1966). Like many of Michener’s other books, Centennial tells the story of an area in Colorado beginning with the land and following animals and generations of people through centuries.

In the TV version, the land formation information is condensed down to a few minutes in the opening clip and we begin following the people on the land. But even the mentions of the animals and the land foreshadow how they will affect the humans on the land in later episodes. The story really begins when the narration drops off and Robert Conrad appears as a trapper.

While the miniseries and novel are not about real people, many of the characters are based upon real people and many of the events reflect real events. One of the things that makes the series work so well is that Michener and the producers convey real history while also telling compelling stories about people using fiction’s freedoms.

Among other things, Michener’s practice of doing extensive research results in a tale that incorporates many people often underrepresented in Westerns. The series’s portrayal of strong pioneer women and the struggles they faced, as well as its portrayal of the tragedies heaped upon the Native Americans will likely go beyond what you might expect from a 1970s TV miniseries.

It is hard to tell a compelling story when a large time period and generations are covered, but the miniseries keeps the focus on several characters from youth to old age. Some of the episodes, such as one about a cattle drive, seems to digress to a new group of characters, but eventually you see the connections.

If there is a weakness in the series, it is when it finally jumps ahead to modern times in the final episode and tries to tie all of the history together through a local election. While the final episode does not quite live up to what it should be for such an outstanding miniseries and it does not give the payoff you should get from a 26-1/2-hour series, it does not diminish the enjoyment of the rest of the show. I like what the writers tried to do with the final episode, even if it does not live up to the rest of the series, and the final show goes out on a high note with a touching performance by Merle Haggard.

Conclusion: If you like tales of the American West and do not mind history mixed with fiction if it tells a good story with interesting characters, then check out Centennial, an excellent Western and human saga in the form of a mini-series. The series is available on DVD.

What do you think of Centennial? Leave your two cents in the comments.

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    Not a Liar or a Hypocrite: Gore Vidal vs. Norman Mailer

    Gore Vidal on Dick Cavett with Norman Mailer

    I was sad to hear that author, playwright, commentator, etc. Gore Vidal passed away Tuesday from complications from pneumonia. Vidal was a rare breed who was able to be intellectual, thought-provoking, controversial, and a celebrity all at the same time. Popular culture often takes the easy well-worn path down to a common denominator, but Vidal was able to be both smart and entertaining, whether one agreed with him or not.

    I have enjoyed several of his books, including his historical novel Lincoln and his collection of fascinating essays in United States. But when I heard he died, my first thought was of his famous feud with Norman Mailer that was brilliantly captured in December 1971 on The Dick Cavett Show. It was an exchange between two men you would not expect to see on television today. Several years ago, Slate even suggested the confrontation be made into a play.

    Mailer was drunk and had head-butted Vidal in the green room before the appearance as revenge for Vidal’s negative book review of Mailer’s Prisoner of Sex. In the review, Vidal wrote that Mailer — along with Henry Miller and Charles Manson — were part of “a continuum in the brutal and violent treatment of women.” Mailer took the criticism as a reference to an incident where he was arrested in 1960 for stabbing his wife with a penknife. The two writers continued the argument in front of the audience with Cavett and writer Janet Flanner in the middle. . .

    Well, okay, it is a little like reality TV, but with two great writers and intellectual giants of their generation. Note that after Mailer called Vidal a “liar and a hypocrite,” he then pointed to Vidal’s reference to the wife-stabbing. Vidal responded with great wit, “But that wasn’t a lie or a hypocrisy.” Ouch.

    And we are still talking about it decades later, as Cavett wrote about the interview in a 2007 essay about the experience in The New York Times. In the article, Cavett noted that both Vidal and Mailer returned to his show again, but he never had them on the same show again. Although the two writers never became great friends, they did not remain enemies. Mailer later explained, “We pass, and like two old whores on the street, say ‘Still at it, Norm?’ ‘Yep. Still at it, Gore?’ ” Unfortunately for us, neither man is still at it, but we can still read and debate their stories and their ideas, and that is not a bad legacy. RIP Mr. Vidal.

    Who do you think wins the exchange? Leave your two cents in the comments.

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    Long Live Max: RIP Maurice Sendak

    Where the Wild Things Are German Chidren’s author Maurice Sendak passed away this morning at the age of 83. Sendak wrote more than a dozen books and illustrated more than one hundred, but he is most remembered for his book, Where the Wild Things Are (1963), which is published in many languages around the world.

    Like many others, I discovered the book as a kid and fell in love with it instantly. I remember it as one of the first books I picked out myself when I was attracted to the fascinating illustration on the cover. I liked that the “monsters” were both scary and cuddly at the same time. I eventually figured out that there was something unusual in the 10-sentence story too. In its simplicity and sparse use of words, it raised questions for me that I could not articulate and left me with some questions I still do not know the answer to today. At the time, I remember asking my mom, “Why was his food still hot?” and receiving an unsatisfying answer. The book somehow captures a complex aspect of childhood that adults cannot quite interpret. So I won’t do that here (although Sendak once described how he had to fight with his publisher to keep the word “hot” because his publisher wanted to change it to “warm”).

    Spike Jonze understood the complexity of the book when he made his 2009 film version of Where the Wild Things Are, which on Rotten Tomatoes has a 73% rating from critics and a disappointing 59% rating from audience members. Some noted that the movie was more for adults than children, and the movie did a good job of taking a book that takes a few minutes to read and turning it into a feature length film. It is not the same as the book, but for those who grew up with the book, it made a good effort at recapturing that initial bewilderment from encountering the book as a child. As Nick Deigman explains on Fan the Fire, the movie is “a beautiful and languid testament to the importance of remembering how powerful our childhoods really were.”

    That complexity in the film came directly from Sendak’s work. Today, the Washington Post explains that Sendak “transformed children’s literature from a gentle playscape into a medium to address the psychological intensity of growing up.” The dark tones of reality appeared in Sendak’s children’s books because he saw that side of life as a sickly and home-bound child who had relatives die in the Holocaust. He grew up in Brooklyn where his family kept him indoors much of the time because he suffered from bouts of measles, pneumonia and scarlet fever. He became fascinated with things like the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, which he later used as an inspiration for his book Outside Over There. Sendak based the Where the Wild Things monsters on his immigrant relatives who would visit when he was a child. They spoke a different language while engaging the children affectionately in ways that were terrifying to the children.

    In an interview with Bill Moyers, Maurice Sendak explained that he originally conceived of Where the Wild Things as “Where the Wild Horses Are” until he discovered he could not draw horses. When asked why he wrote children’s books, he responds, “I don’t know.” I don’t either, but I’m glad he did. I am also glad he could not draw horses. In this interview from Tell Them Anything You Want: A Portrait of Maurice Sendak, a documentary by Spike Jonze and Lance Bangs, Sendak talks about death and looks back on his work. RIP.

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    The Myth of Redemptive Violence: 3:10 to Yuma (Part One)

    3:10 to yuma

    {This two-part series examines the use of redemptive violence in some movie Westerns to present a message that violence brings healing. This post contrasts the choices made in the original and the remake of 3:10 to Yuma. Note these posts discuss movie endings and thus contain spoilers.}

    Recently, the Trayvon Martin case in Florida has raised a number of complicated issues, including ones about the use of violence and when one should be able to use deadly force. Thus, it seems an appropriate time to consider portrayals of violence on the big screen. The original 1957 version and the 2007 version of 3:10 to Yuma, based upon an Elmore Leonard novel, show different treatments of violence, perhaps reflecting different views we have today than we had in the late 1950s.

    The key difference is in illustrated by how the movies end.

    In both versions, an upstanding farmer, Dan Evans, shows his courage by taking the bad guy, Ben Wade, from a hotel in the town of Contention to a prison-bound train.  As they try to get to the train, Wade’s gang tries to kill the farmer and free Wade.

    Also, in both versions, Evans believes that his family does not respect him.  His act of getting Wade on the train will not only give him payment to save his farm, but it will gain him respect from his wife and sons, who are children in the original version and young men in the 2007 version.  In the 2007 version, Evans is a Civil War veteran with a wooden leg, symbolizing that his family does not see him as a whole man.

    The Original 1957 3:10 to Yuma

    3:10 to Yuma original In the original 1957 version of 3:10 to Yuma, the movie ends with Ben Wade (Glenn Ford) and the farmer (Van Heflin) going through the streets of town as the gang shoots at them.  They get close to the train and the gang closes in.  Then, at the last minute Wade saves the farmer’s life by risking his life to stand between the farmer and the gang.

    Wade’s act allows the farmer and him to board the train for the prison. As both Wade and the farmer ride off on the train, Wade says he saved the farmer because the farmer had saved him earlier when the brother of one of Wade’s victims tried to kill Wade. But the subtext is that Wade respects the farmer, who has inspired Wade to be a better man.

    Wade also mentions that he has escaped from Yuma Prison before.  And the farmer replies that his only obligation was to get him on the train.  As the train goes out of town, the farmer’s wife sees that her husband is alive with Wade on the train.

    The 2007 Remake

    In the 2007 version of 3:10 to Yuma, Wade (Russell Crowe) also gains respect for the farmer (Christian Bale) throughout his captivity.  But throughout the 2007 film, Wade and his gang commit additional acts of violence that are not in the original. For example, the original film does not have the gang burning alive a man to find out where Wade has been taken.  In the scene where the farmer is taking Wade to the train, they face not only the gang, but a number of townspeople who have been promised money by the gang if they kill the farmer.  This change in plot allows the farmer to shoot some people on the way to the train while leaving most of the gang members alive for the final scene.

    gun in 3:10 to Yuma As Wade and the farmer finally get near the train, the farmer explains he is doing what he is doing so his sons respect him.  And then, Wade begins to help the farmer get to the train.

    Once they get to the train and Wade is just on the train, though, the farmer is mortally wounded by the gang members.  The gang members give Wade his guns back.  Wade, who had discussed the Bible in several earlier scenes, looks at the stock of his pistol, where there is a gold image of Christ on the cross.  Wade looks at the dying farmer, and he pulls out the gun and shoots all of the gang members.  After a few words, the farmer dies, and Wade gets on the train by himself.

    The farmer’s sons are present to see that their father died getting Wade on the train.  Wade had earlier stated that he had escaped from Yuma Prison in the past.  And as the train takes off, he whistles and his horse follows the train, implying that he will not be on the train when it arrives in Yuma. (Embedding is disabled, but you may see Wade’s act of “redemption” here.)

    In many ways the movies are very similar, and much of the dialogue in the original is used in the remake.  The remake is longer, though, and adds some more background on the farmer’s plight.  We learn more about Wade and some new characters on the trip to Contention.

    The Myth of Redemptive Violence

    A key difference in the messages of the movies is the different endings.  In the original, the turning point and Wade’s redemption comes from Wade’s sacrifice for another.  Wade risks his life to save his captor and then gives himself up to get on the train to Yuma prison. It is redemption in the Christian meaning of self-sacrifice.

    In the 2007 version, while Wade does similar acts and implies connections to Christianity in symbols, Wade’s redemption is not getting on the train at the end.  After he gets on the train, the movie leaves us with the promise of immediate escape.  The true moment of redemption, we are led to believe, is Wade’s act of shooting all of his former gang members. Wade’s act of killing is apparently motivated by vengeance for their killing the farmer, a man he now respects.

    Thus, the 2007 film implies that killing is the character’s act of redemption.  To make sure the audience realizes it is a moment of redemption, Wade looks at the gold Jesus on his gun handle right before he does the killing. Apparently, Jesus now saves through acts of violence.

    The 2007 ending of 3:10 to Yuma portrays what Prof. Walter Wink calls “The Myth of Redemptive Violence,” in the ways that media and popular culture teach us that violence provides redemption.  Wink describes the typical movie practice of featuring a fallen hero beset by various troubles who finally provides release for the audience in a final act of violent revenge.

    The ending of the original 3:10 to Yuma was not enough, apparently, for 2007 audiences.  We can only feel the release and satisfaction if the hero’s redemption comes with an act of violence.

    The redemption is misleading, though.  Is Wade a new man if he kills all of his gang and then escapes from the train?  Are we to believe that he will no longer kill, and instead may go back to the farmer’s wife?  I don’t think so.  Because his redemption is violent, there is no hint that he will stop killing.  In the original, though, we might have some hope for Wade in that his redemption was an act of self-sacrifice to save another person.

    Why Do We Love Redemptive Violence?

    I am not sure why the 2007 version preaches redemptive violence and the 1957 version does not, and my discussion is not meant to imply that I did not enjoy the remake, as I did.

    But I do not believe the difference is merely a matter of the films being made in different eras, though perhaps we expect more violence in our movies these days.  Still, there are many old Westerns that also perpetuate the myth of redemptive violence.

    In Part Two of this discussion, Chimesfreedom will consider 3:10 to Yuma and its illustration of redemptive violence in the context of other classic Western films.

    Why do you think the 2007 3:10 to Yuma changed the ending from the 1957 version of the film? Leave your two cents in the comments.

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