“Oh f***, not another elf!”

Thus exclaimed English academic Hugo Dyson as his friend J.R.R. Tolkien prepared to read aloud the latest chapter in his then-unpublished “heroic romance” to a small audience of intimates in the pleasantly smoke-filled, gin-scented rooms of C. S. Lewis. Years earlier, during a fateful night of impassioned debate, it was Dyson and Tolkien who together convinced Lewis to forsake unbelief and embrace Christianity, doing such a good job of it that the future author of The Chronicles of Narnia would become the most influential Christian vindicator (I despise the word apologist) of the twentieth century.

Now Dyson was mocking the work of the man who would become the most influential purveyor of Christianized fiction of that same century, and many of Tolkien’s fellow Inklings were of the same mind. It was thus left to Lewis to spur the author of The Hobbit on to greater heights of imagination. “If they won’t write the kind of books we want to read, we shall have to write them ourselves,” he once told Tolkien, and that’s just what they did. Each used the medium known (fondly to some, pejoratively to most) as “fairy stories” to achieve the tang and ring and chime — and through them the thoughts and feelings and beliefs — that they were seeking in literature.

In between his increasingly unpopular Inkling readings, Tolkien wrote during snatches of time carved out of days filled with exhausting academic duties, and frequently only after penning worried, often melancholy letters to his sons off to war. “I sometimes feel appalled,” he admitted in one 1944 missive, “at the thought of the sum total of human misery all over the world at the present moment. . . If anguish were visible, almost the whole of this benighted planet would be enveloped in a dense dark vapour, shrouded from the amazed visions of the heavens! And the products of it all will be mainly evil….” In another he lamented that, “A small knowledge of history depresses one with the sense of the everlasting mass and weight of human iniquity: old, old, dreary, endless repetitive unchanging incurable wickedness. All towns, all villages, all habitations of men — sinks! . . . We do so little that is positive good, even if we negatively avoid what is actively evil. It must be terrible to be a priest!”

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The Telegraph:

When we think of the liberation of South Africa, we completely associate it with Nelson Mandela and what he did was extraordinary, of course – but what she did was equally as extraordinary, if not more,” said [South African director Darrell] Roodt. …

“If it wasn’t for Winnie Mandela, South Africa would have been a vastly different place. It might have ended in ruin and chaos. It is, for me, the great untold story about South Africa. It’s the ultimate women’s movie.”

The film aims to overturn negative views of the woman who once notoriously declared that “with our boxes of matches and our necklaces, we shall liberate this country” – a reference to the method of killing suspected informers in the townships by setting fire to petrol-filled tyres placed around their necks.

Under apartheid she was convicted of kidnapping a 14-year-old boy who was later found beaten to death in Soweto. In 2003, she was convicted of more than 40 charges of fraud.

But Roodt said Mrs Mandela’s image was deliberately undermined by her enemies, although he insisted the film would not be a hagiography. (more…)

My father spent the first 31 years of his life in Communist Poland, leaving him with a distrust of major media that left him inclined to espouse this adage: “The only news you can be certain is accurate and untouched is sports.” He knew the universal appeal of sports as a diversion from the bleakness of life in even the most oppressed societies, and passed that lesson on to me from an early age.

**SPOILERS COMING***

Similar principles drove Nelson Mandela to use sports as a means of forgiveness and reconciliation when he made the dramatic climb from being a prisoner in the apartheid era of South Africa to becoming the nation’s first black president. And it is that powerful process that drives the new film “Invictus,” starring Morgan Freeman as the legendary leader and Matt Damon as Francois Pienaar, the leader of South Africa’s official rugby team, the Springboks, who led the team to victory in the 1995 World Cup Final in a season that provided the first major step towards national unity after decades of division. (more…)

While offering up one of the smarter political allegories to hit theaters in a long time, after an imaginative and compelling opening based on an imaginative and compelling premise, the second half of “District 9” doesn’t live up. The idea-bottom drops completely out of what was looking to be a potential sci-fi classic when the story suddenly turns and devolves into a B-grade, actioner – most of it photographed by that infernal shaky-cam, which is guilty of ruining more movies than Julia Roberts.

High above Johannesburg, South Africa, a lifeless spaceship hovers in the haze. No one knows where it came from or how it got there and for a while everyone seems content to wait for something to happen. But as time passes and nothing does, a decision is made to investigate. Once inside, investigators find the ship’s cargo: thousands upon thousands of alien beings who will come to be known as “Prawns.”

Twenty years pass and by now it’s become obvious that these 1.8 million aliens are unable to care for themselves or integrate into human society. Like animals, they scour garbage piles for food, are hostile towards equally hostile citizens and have had to be segregated in District 9, a ghettoized internment camp guarded by Multi-National United (MNU), a private corporation involved in everything from military contracting to medical experimentation. (more…)

Is it possible for a film to be both a brilliant, exciting piece of entertainment, and also a completely illogical piece of heavy-handed political propaganda? It is, if the new science-fiction oddity “District 9” is any indication.

Led by a stunning performance by Sharlto Copley, who is not only unknown to audiences outside South Africa, but who had never acted in anything but short films before, “District 9” blasts through its running time with a furious mix of action and satire. Yet its central plotline, focusing on what might happen if space aliens approached Johannesburg and were then held in a segregated district for nearly three decades, is riddled with holes and bangs viewers over the head with its allegories of racial discrimination harkening back to the evil days of that nation’s apartheid policies.

The film kicks off with a fast-paced blend of fake newscasts and faux-documentary footage shot by a camera crew that’s been assigned to cover a mass evacuation of aliens from their home in the city’s District 9. The aliens had come in a giant mother ship back in 1982, but no one has ever figured out why they arrived and left the ship to hover eternally over Johannesburg. (more…)

The crime is complete. Judgment has been passed. The killing stones are in hand. As per the harsh stoning penal code of Iran’s Islamist thugocracy (for however long that lasts) where the crime took place, my stones are not so big as to kill right away, not so small you can’t call them stones. And I’m winding up like Nolan Ryan. Feel free to pick up a stone of your own. But wait for it!

And let me make this perfectly clear, even if they do say Jehovah!

Sentence must be read before being carried out. And unlike Soraya M., the board members of the Asylum of Motion Picture Airheads and Stooges will deserve every rock that’s thrown their way. I also believe that, in light of events in Iran today, the following commentary will stand out in much starker prominence than it did when I first started reporting on them in early March, when Team Oscar first set off for the Unfriendly Skies of Islamist Iran. (more…)