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Authors Posts by Jeffrey Sanzel

Jeffrey Sanzel

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Kathy Najimy, Bette Midler and Sarah Jessica Parker are back in 'Hocus Pocus 2'. Photo from Disney+

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In 1993, Disney released the comedy-fantasy Hocus Pocus. The film starred Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Kathy Najimy as the Sanderson Sisters — Winifred, Sarah, and Mary. After their execution in Salem in 1693, the trio of witches are accidentally resurrected three centuries later. Directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay by Neil Cuthbert and Mick Garris, the film received negative reviews, and the studio lost over $16 million. However, Hocus Pocus became a cult favorite, with home viewing a Halloween tradition.

Now Disney offers a direct-to-streaming sequel helmed by a completely new production team. Anne Fletcher directs Jen D’Angelo’s script of Hocus Pocus 2. 

Sarah Jessica Parker, Bette Midler and Kathy Najimy with the Book of Spells. Photo from Disney+

The prologue, set in Salem in 1653, shows the young Sanderson Sisters (played with great humor by Taylor Paige Henderson as teenage Winifred, Nina Kitchen as young Mary, and Juju Journey Brener as the child Sarah) confronted by the puritanical Reverend Traske. The minister wants to marry off Winifred on this, her sixteenth birthday. The girls flee to the woods, where they encounter Mother Witch (a nice cameo by Ted Lasso’s Hannah Waddingham). The mysterious sorceress provides them with the spell book that brings them into a life of the occult.

The action jumps to the present: Halloween, 29 years after the first film’s events. Becca and her best friend, Izzy, celebrate her sixteenth birthday with a ritual in the woods. Having received the infamous black flame candle from Gilbert, the owner of the Olde Salem Magic Shoppe, Becca and Izzy accidentally conjure the witches. The newly restored enchantresses announce their desire for revenge on all of Salem. The ensuing plot rehashes much of the original film: similar situations, clumsy jokes, and mid-range magical effects.

The Sanderson Sisters visit Walgreens in a scene from the film. Photo from Disney+

The sequel’s sole reason is the return of Midler, Parker, and Najimy. The roles have achieved a certain iconography, not-so-subtly parodied. Halloween celebrants and trick-or-treaters traipse through, dressed in identical costumes. The gag builds to a look-a-like contest featuring outrageous drag queens (RuPaul’s Drag Race’s Ginger Minj, Kornbread Jeté, and Kahmora Hall). 

The usual time-travelers-out-of-time setups include a requisite but amusing visit to Walgreens. Here, Becca and Izzy convince the Sanderson Sisters the plethora of beauty products contain children’s souls. The visit ends with Midler flying off on a broom, Parker on a Swiffer, and Najimy balancing on a pair of Roombas. They conspire, bicker, and sing snatches of popular songs with alternate lyrics. Nothing new is on offer, but the drive is nostalgia, not reinvention. They truly are the “Gothic Golden Girls.”

Belissa Escobedo, Whitney Peak and Lilia Buckingham in a scene from the movie. Photo from Disney+

However, what works surprisingly well is the young cast. Whitney Peak is wonderful, making Becca real, resourceful, and appealing. She lands her punchlines without precociousness. Her wryness perfectly complements Belisssa Escobedo’s Izzy. Escobedo’s mild handwringing and edge of perpetual panic make her the ideal foil for the cooler-headed Becca. Rounding out the trio is Lilia Buckingham as Cassie Traske, the girls’ estranged friend. While she is less prominent, when she finally reunites with her best friends, her presence provides the wide-eyed incredulity that helps drive the last act.

Tony Hale doubles as the fanatical seventeenth-century pastor and his descendant, Cassie’s goofy father, who happens to be the mayor and the witches’ prime target. Hale is a gifted comedian who makes the on-the-nose quips fun and even occasionally smart. Sam Richardson charmingly mines the slightly bumbling but well-meaning Gilbert. Returning from the original film, Doug Jones gives the same easy performance as the zombie Billy Butcherson. Froy Gutierrez earns honest laughs as Mike, Cassie’s clueless boyfriend.

In the end, Hocus Pocus 2 covers little new territory. The film is often loud and busy, where it could have been clever. Many jokes are forced and do not necessarily play. 

Kathy Najimy, Bette Midler and Sarah Jessica Parker are back in ‘Hocus Pocus 2’. Photo from Disney+

Both films possess an After School Special vibe, but the core issue of the candle lit by a virgin makes for some interesting lunchroom conversation with the elementary school set. But the ending takes a different tone from the original, building to lessons about sharing power and the value of personal connection. The message is very traditional Disney and makes for a sweet resolution. For fans of the original, the film will be a welcome Halloween treat. For the rest, Hocus Pocus 2 is a harmless, if predictable, holiday outing. 

Rated PG, the film is now streaming on Disney+.

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Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“We can safely assume that one of the greatest threats to existence on the planet is distancing from the natural world.”

Karen Lloyd’s collection Abundance: Nature in Recovery (Bloomsbury Publishing) asks us to “bend closer” in viewing the planet. She wants the reader to see “the holes humans have created” during this current geological age (the Anthropocene). She uses her observations to “work out what [she’s] not been looking at but should have seen.” The book balances a healthy wonder with the perception of the losses incurred during the modern era and the destruction caused by human beings’ willful intent or, at the very least, ignorance.

In fourteen intriguing essays, she addresses a host of issues. She concedes that often problems are “hyperobjects”— concepts, ideas, and things that are so vast as to evade intellectual and emotional grasp. These include the biosphere, climate breakdown, evolution, capitalism, and politics. What makes her writing exceptional is that while she acknowledges this limitation, it has not stopped her from exploring them with insight and depth, offering both simple and breathtaking awareness.

The book is unique in its point of view. It is not a traditional dissection of environmental issues. Instead, it is a mosaic of thoughts and experiences. Lloyd focuses on the ecological but draws on art, photography, poetry, history, and personal anecdotes to build her case. Hers is an unusual, affecting, and effective approach. Her language is vivid and rich, even dealing with the depletion of the landscape and the entanglement resulting from modern encroachment. But, always, her anthem is that the natural world should be the center of our existence.

Her consideration of wildlife drives much of Abundance. She regards animals both as they are and in an anthropomorphized stage. When describing eight American brown pelicans rescued from an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, she sees, “the disposition of the pelicans is that of a Pieta, although without the central protagonist.” For Lloyd, the “act to save birds and other species from ruination caused by humans is not only a profound sense of engagement with our imagination but illustrates that human agency is also the dynamic of repair.”

She cites a range of examples of organizations repairing the damage, like the Wolves in the Netherlands Project, which is about coexistence. Here, Lloyd brings up the issue of doing as opposed to “we can talk about anything as long as we don’t have to live with it.” She details her scrutiny of birds and beavers and the many impacts of the “man-made mess.” Each account, whether pastoral or harrowing, is a visceral reminder to witness: “At what point did it begin to form, this void inside us that caused us to forget how to see?”

Engagement is the cornerstone and foundation, urging people to let their children experience the natural world and not through a screen. She recounts her adventures with a contrast of hard facts and beautiful metaphors, frank observations, and lyrical expression. As indicated, Lloyd highlights the human need for comparison. “To make allegiances between images and ideas. To render the metaphysical, the supra-human in form and word.” Thus, vultures look like Lawrence Olivier got up as Richard the third. Lapwings sport Robin Hood caps. A black-winged stilt summons the image of Audrey Hepburn. A pair of hoopoes flare like Incan gods. Her frustration with misinformation reveals a wit that tips towards gallows humor as in the discussion of Mr. Beaver in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, followed by hilarious but pointed imaginary discussion between beavers fleeing their home.

Enjoying a plate of olives on a beautiful Friday night, she wants to forget the danger new olive plantations represent to the bird population because of the drying of the land. She learns that wind turbines designed to fight climate change pose are a threat to the avian population. “… Electricity is progress, and green energy is more progress still. Even though there will always be a cost, I’ve chosen to be more upfront with myself about this. I still want electricity. I still want to eat olives.”

She is unusual and unusually brave in her honesty and continues to unpack the big questions. Whether meditating on the extinction of a species in our time, analyzing agribusiness, or pondering predator control, she never loses sight of the contradictions and complexities. There is raw bravery in both her awe and exasperation.

Ultimately, it comes down to this: “Consider the situation from all sides. Keep hold of the bigger picture. Tune out the interference and the white noise. Tune in to the ways and means in which the landscape communicates. Pay attention to what it needs to perform its work efficiently.” Lloyd’s thoughts, hopes, and perspectives are complicated. But they are a valuable reminder to open our eyes and minds to the world we have … while we still have it.

Pick up a copy online at www.Amazon.com or www.BarnesandNoble.comm.

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Florence Pugh and Harry Styles in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Actor Olivia Wilde made her directorial debut with Booksmart (2019), a coming-of-age comedy about high school seniors looking to break the rules on their final day of classes. The hugely successful film received critical accolades, landed on multiple top-ten lists, and garnered many nominations. 

Florence Pugh and Harry Styles in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Unfortunately, Wilde’s sophomore outing, Don’t Worry Darling (New Line Cinemas), is an empty, tedious psychological thriller that borrows liberally but poorly from better and smarter films.

Perfect couple Alice (Florence Pugh) and Jack (Harry Styles) reside in an idyllic 1950s community in a seemingly perpetually honeymoon of romance, domesticity, and sex. The California oasis, all sunlight and happiness, is the town of Victory; the name derives from the mysterious company for which the men work. 

Each morning, the wives stand on their perfectly manicured lawns and bid goodbye to their spouses, who join an automotive caravan into the adjunct desert where they labor on an unnamed project. The stay-at-home wives clean, cook, and then visit the club pool where they while away the day gossiping. They vaguely speculate on the corporation’s actual work, discouraged from questioning their husbands on the much-lauded “development of progressive materials.” The Stepford vibe permeates the entire film.

Olivia Wilde and Nick Kroll in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. 

The company/community is the brainchild of Frank (Chris Pine), a cult-like figure who stares and smirks and even watches as the happy couple has sex in his kitchen. He leads the group in question-response mantras: “What is the enemy of progress?” “Chaos.” “What are we doing?” “Changing the world.” References to family and to “the mission” are trotted out. The generic catchphrases somehow overwhelm the attempts at tension, resulting in an underwhelming blandness. As Frank lords over the men, his wife, Shelly (Gemma Chan), dominates the women. In a dance class, she encourages them to chant, “There is beauty in control. There is grace in symmetry. We move as one.”

Eventually, cracks begin to show, beginning with ostracized Margaret (KiKi Layne), who went with her son out into the forbidden desert but returned without him. At an afternoon gathering, Margaret claims that Victory took her son away from her, and her husband quickly subdues her. The community sees Margaret as mentally imbalanced and dismisses her accusation. However, there are other indications that something is not wholly right or real in this utopia: A topless woman strolls poolside. Freedom in language uncommon in the period. Jack’s strange dance when he is promoted to the inner circle. Whole eggs that are empty. In the midst of this, Alice has visions and hallucinations, driving her to question the fabric of her life.

Florence Pugh and Harry Styles in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Conceptually, there is little new on offer in Don’t Worry Darling. The ideas have been presented in countless films. And while there is much that is stylish in the design and Matthew Libatique’s rich and often sunbaked cinematography, the action becomes predictable and repetitive, plodding along with few surprises. 

Florence Pugh gives the scream queen Alice as many dimensions as possible. She is a riveting and honest performer and creates a dimensional woman questioning both her world and her sanity. Pugh makes every moment count as she battles with an ever smaller grasp of reality and what seems to be communal gaslighting.

Styles’ Jack is stiff in a stiff role and incapable of raising the (possibly intentionally?) stilted dialogue. Chris Pine succeeds to a certain extent in the enigmatic Frank, but there is a certain lack of texture to his villain. Wilde is strong as the gossipy and slightly bullying Bunny, Alice’s confidant. Late in the film, she has the most powerful revelation, one of the few moments that manages to be chilling and cathartic. Gemma Chan finds the right balance in the ice princess Shelley. Timothy Simmons provides a creepy, if obvious, doctor, playing it just to the edge of too much. The supporting cast fills out the town ensemble but is given little else: the men curry favor with Frank, the women with Shelley. 

A great deal of publicity has swirled around the film, with backlot drama—initially between the director and the originally cast Jack, Shia LaBeouf, and later between the director and Pugh. But, in the end, the white noise is irrelevant.

And while Don’t Worry Darling attempts to make statements about society and gender roles, the pretentious screenplay by Katie Silberman (from a story by Silberman, Carey Van Dyke, and Shane Van Dyke) fails to answer any of them. Wilde’s showy but hollow direction does nothing to solve the problems or enhance the experience. In the end, Don’t Worry Darling becomes relentless shrill, building to an ambiguously frustrating cheat of an ending.

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Tom Hanks, right, stars in 'Pinocchio,' which uses both live action elements and animation. Pinocchio, left, is voiced by Benjamin Evan Ainsworth. Photo courtesy of Disney +

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Disney continues to revisit its animated classics as source material for live-action films. These include 101 Dalmatians (along with a sequel and a prequel), Alice in Wonderland, Sleeping Beauty (Maleficent, with its shifted point-of-view), Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Dumbo, Aladdin, The Lion King, Lady and the Tramp, and Mulan. Most have received mixed reactions, but this has not stemmed the flow. Added to this list is the newly released Pinocchio, now streaming on Disney+.

Cynthia Erivo is the Blue Fairy in ‘Pinocchio’

Pinocchio finds its origins in the children’s novel The Adventures of Pinocchio. Italian writer Carlo Collodi wrote of a Tuscan woodcarver named Geppetto who creates a wooden puppet who dreams of becoming a real boy. The name “Pinocchio” is a combination of the Italian words pino (pine) and occhio (eye). The character’s iconography and adventures bridge three centuries: The puppet dreams of being, given spirit guides, and a nose that grows when he lies (occurring only once in the novel). 

Disney’s Pinocchio (1940) deservedly earns the accolade “masterpiece.” Pinocchio, the follow-up to the studio’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), is only equaled by its predecessor. Three years in the making, Pinocchio was a critical hit. Writing in The Hollywood Reporter, the unnamed staff writer described the film in glowing terms: “… the picture is a masterpiece which sets another milestone along the road of screen entertainment …. a new source of joy for which [the creators] deserve and will receive the gratitude of millions who will see it.”

A scene from Disney’s ‘Pinocchio.’

Pinocchio has been seen on both the big and small screens nearly two dozen times. Casts have included the Pinocchio’s of Sandy Duncan, Paul Reubens (a.k.a. Pee-Wee Herman), Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and Roberto Benigni. Geppettos include Burl Ives, Danny Kaye, Martin Landau, Carl Reiner, and Drew Carey. In addition, a host of famous actors appeared in supporting roles.

For the newest incarnation, director Robert Zemeckis has co-adapted the screenplay with Chris Weitz, but the entire film feels like a scene-for-scene remake of the original. Where it attempts to find something new, the substitution does nothing to enhance the storytelling. Instead, it is different for its own sake. 

A few new elements are introduced into the plot but add little to the overall effect, with even the best moments falling short. “Clever” touches receive acknowledgment—cuckoo-clocks with Disney images (Snow White, Roger Rabbit, Sleeping Beauty, etc.)—but seem slightly out-of-place. The mix of live actors and CGI results in the “real” people appearing as if traveling through a virtual reality app. 

Tom Hanks is Gepetto îs Disney’s ‘Pinocchio’

The story remains the same. Inventor Geppetto fashions Pinocchio and wishes upon a star. The puppet then finds himself duped into various dangerous scenarios: encountering the fox and the cat who sell him to Stromboli, the wicked puppeteer; the journey to Pleasure Island where the children are turned into donkeys and sold; being swallowed by a sea monster; etc. Pinocchio’s spiritual guides are, of course, Jiminy Cricket and the Blue Fairy. 

Tom Hanks makes a heartfelt Geppetto, a widower in mourning for his wife and son. He infuses the character with a deep kindness interwoven with a fragile and broken soul. He puts a smile on the puppet so he will “always be happy.” The image of his setting out to find Pinocchio, packing his beloved cat, Figaro, and cradling his adored fish, Cleo, is touching. One could wish Hanks’ make-up to be a little less extreme, with bushy hair, mustache, and eyebrows worthy of their own zip code. 

Cynthia Erivo makes a beautiful, fully present Blue Fairy. The voice work is good, with Benjamin Evan Ainsworth’s sweet and never saccharine Pinocchio. Joseph Gordon-Levitt gives Jiminy Cricket a southern flavor but conveys his concern as the puppet’s conscience. Lorraine Bracco (a friendly seagull) and Keegan-Michael Key, as Honest John, the con-fox, are fine if a bit one note.

The story’s heart remains to be “real” is to be brave, honest, and unselfish. While spelled out clearly, the concept sometimes gets lost in the visual noise. The pacing is uneven and often slow. The comic violence (Stromboli locking Pinocchio in a case) feels jarringly vicious. Jokes referencing Chris Pine, agents, taxes, and educational curriculum do not land so much as thud. The original music is oddly utilized and snuck in, almost as spoken verse and Alan Silvestri’s new songs unfortunately fail to enhance the film. In the end, Pinocchio feels like light-beer-and-water: all the same but less.

Upcoming and in development are live-action versions of The Little Mermaid, Peter Pan (as Peter Pan and Wendy), Snow White, Hercules, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Sword in the Stone, Robin Hood, Bambi, The Aristocats, and Lilo and Stitch along with sequels to The Lion King (Mufasa: The Lion King), Aladdin, The Jungle Book, and Cruella. With the track record of previous adaptations, one must wonder—other than money—what Disney hopes to gain. 

Rated PG, Pinocchio is now streaming on Disney +.

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Nathalie Emmanuel in a scene from 'The Invitation' Photo courtesy of SONY Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Who doesn’t like a good vampire movie? Clearly, the creators of The Invitation. “Creators” might be inaccurate. “Responsible parties” is probably more apt. But, in what may be the only horror movie inspired by a DNA kit, the disastrous 104-minute mess manages to be witless, tiresome, and pointless. 

The film opens with a severe case of “we’re going to tell you stuff.” Evelyn “Evie” Jackson struggles as a cater-server with past due bills and aspirations of being an artist. (Her medium is ceramics, not pottery, as she later corrects her host.) Now orphaned after the passing of her mother a few months before, she floats and frets and treads water (not unlike the film). 

Through a genetic test, Evie connects with the English part of her family. Revealed is a history of a footman’s affair with an aristocrat, an escape, and a few other bits revealed throughout the exposition. 

Cousin Oliver just happens to be in New York City on business. He invites Evie to a family wedding in Yorkshire. She bids goodbye to her wisecracking, sassy best friend, packs up, and off she goes, arriving at the estate of the DeVilles. Yes. The DeVilles. Sadly, this is not even the least subtle element of the film. That ignominious award goes to the “sly” Dracula references, including the location being New Carfax, in Whitby, as well as a couple in the village named Harker. And so, it goes.

Quickly, Evie senses that all is not right in this Downton Abbey from Heck. Her idyll adventure becomes sort of an “Eat-Slay-Love” scenario as she becomes involved with Walter, the handsome young lord of the manor. She encounters a range of characterless family members — “patriarch with an eye patch,” “butler who mumbles to himself as he dispatches the hired help,” “worried ladies’ maid,” and other stock figures who are an insult to clichés. 

There is no shortage of moving shadows, darting hands, and creepy whispers on the grounds. The house sports barred windows with sharp points, a mysterious library, candles that go out, and gramophones that turn themselves on. 

The screenplay, by Blair Butler, seems to be absent of original thought and does nothing to help Jessica M. Thompson’s thrill-less, leaden direction. The Invitation might be the least erotic vampire movie of all time. The scene containing the most tension features a manicure and the obligatory cutting of the finger so that someone can suck the blood. 

Lines such as “I feel like I’m going crazy” are only equaled by the equally trite “I want to live life fully. Throw caution to the wind …” When Walter attempts to open up to Evie, the dialogue gives new meaning to cringe-worthy: “I’m tired of the façade. Of keeping up appearances … It’s isolating. I want someone to see me for who I truly am. Someone who accepts me.” Poor, lonely vampire.

There are some explanations of rituals involving the dark lord’s need for three wives (i.e., the Brides of Dracula). The concept of mortals who enable the family is a novel idea. The idea that these surrounding sycophants are collaborators in the evil is intriguing. But, once introduced, the idea drops, and back we go to the tedium. The pedestrian “climax” fails to deliver on a nearly clever twist. The very brief and supposedly amusing epilogue does nothing to solve this dead end.

As far as the presence of gore, The Invitation is a bit bloody … bloody awful, bloody boring, a bloody waste of time.

Nathalie Emmanuel (Game of Thrones)  offers a strong, resourceful Evie and holds the focus. But the material limits her ability to show a great deal of range. Thomas Doherty offers a charmless Walter, more annoying than alluring. Hugh Skinner’s Cousin Oliver seems like a refugee from an earlier time; one expects him to come bounding in with a “tennis anyone?” Stephanie Corneliussen is the mean girl, and Alana Boden is the nice girl; the less said, the better.

At one point, Evie cries, “I want to go home.” (So did I). Shortly after, she asks, “Why are you doing this to me?” (A question I asked aloud to the empty theatre.) Eternal life may feel long, but not as long as this movie. Regarding this Invitation, I suggest RSVP “will NOT attend.”

Rated PG-13, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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'Chronicles of a Nature Photographer'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In John Hanc’s forward to John P. Cardone’s Chronicles of a Nature Photographer (Waterview Arts), he states the book “reminds us that, just on the other side of the highway, deep in the recesses of, say, one of our magnificent Long Island State Parks, are the streams and brooks, the marshlands and estuaries that still provide a home to birds, animals, plants, flowers.” This beautifully explains Cardone’s celebration of nature in a book that offers his passion in prose and imagery.

Author John P. Cardone

Cardone is a vibrant storyteller with a pastoral bent. He defines “chronicles” as “documenting personal experiences over time in a historical fashion.” But he offers more than just an account, infusing the fifteen chapters with wry observations, wit, and honesty. As a result, his revealing narrative is wholly personal. “Let me start by saying that everything you read here is true and with no exaggeration or embellishment.” 

In the first chapter, Cardone begins with his fascination with the hummingbird. He juxtaposes his struggle with cancer and his journey with stem cell transplant with his desire to photograph these elusive birds. Eventually, with his wife’s help, Cardone builds a hummingbird garden during his recovery (which also coincided with the pandemic). He draws a subtle connection between the opportunity to capture images of these rare creatures and his eventual healing. 

From the very start, Cardone offers a thorough background on his subjects. His knowledge is impressive and seems vast, but he articulates with an accessible and almost conversational tone. He gives enough explanation of his photographic process without overwhelming the reader with technical details. He has ventured out in all weather, in all conditions, capturing a host of animals and settings, fascinated by the range of species, markings, and habitats. 

He makes a strong case for flowers as subjects. “… I can tell you that what photographers generally agree upon is what affects a photograph—and most will say light, color, and composition. With flowers as your subject, you have all of these and more.” Whether the focus or used as a framing border, this chapter contains incredible photographs — all vivid, rich, and colorful.

Of course, the greatest joys of the book are the color photographs, 175 in all, which are elegantly reproduced. A glorious study of an osprey landing on its nest, its wings slightly expanded, sits across from a regal American bald eagle, almost posing for its portrait.

From photographing insects with interesting angles and unusual compositions to vast landscapes and waterscapes, Cardone attains remarkable results. In Chapter 12, “A Bird in the Hand,” he shares personal pictures of his family on a visit to the Elizabeth A. Morton National Wildlife Refuge in Noyac. The final chapter has nearly two dozen glorious photos of wild horses.

‘Chronicles of a Nature Photographer’

The author’s sense of humor permeates the entire text. Whether introducing the white-tailed deer (“Love Them or Leave Them”) or expounding on his love of photographing turtles (an exchange with his four-year-old grandson, Noah, who references Raphael and Leonardo), Cardone finds whimsy and delight in his art and his life. The quests — such as his search for the snowy owl — present both small and big joys, along with surprises. (The day he photographed this particular owl as well as a harbor seal.) 

While the book focuses predominantly on his Long Island experiences, Cardone ventures as far as the Rocky Mountains. He first visited the Rocky Mountain National Park during his military service (1969-70) when stationed at Fort Carson, eight miles from Colorado Springs. He then purchased his first camera and learned how to develop black-and-white film and print with an enlarger. Fifty years later, in April 2017, he returned to the Rocky Mountain National Park, photographing elk, moose, bighorn sheep, screech owls, and a range of scenic views.

There is a certain Zen to Cardone’s approach: “Sometimes, as a nature photographer, I will take a long pause and just soak up the beauty of what I’m seeing. Being in the moment is a mindfulness practice that can help calm you.” This crosses over into his pleasure in the planning of excursions. (Currently, he offers two kayaking tours of Carman’s River: one is a photography tour and the other a naturalist tour.)

Cardone is an artist, a fan, but above all, a teacher. The book reflects someone who stands in awe of nature but embraces its possibilities. He seeks deeper understanding and communicates both the encounters and the underlying zeal. His ultimate goal is to inspire the reader to “put [his] hiking boots on and get out in nature. It’s all there, just waiting for you to visit. And if you are a parent or grandparent, to nudge the children in your life toward loving nature as well.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

A resident of Ronkonkoma, author John P. Cardone is the founder of the Long Island Authors Group, a nature photographer, a wildlife photography instructor, and a lecturer on nature topics. Chronicles of a Nature Photographer is his sixth book and is available online at Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com. To learn more about John, his books, and his nature work, visit his website at www.WaterviewsBook.com.

 

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Tilda Swinton a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of MGM

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In description, the plot is simple. A woman finds a bottle and releases a djinn (i.e., genie). The Djinn grants her three wishes; this is a straightforward story told hundreds of times over thousands of years. But suppose the woman is a narratologist, a scholar studying the literary theories of narrative? Suppose she is an academic who understands the interconnective nature of stories? Althea Binnie understands that “wish stories” are cautionary morality tales and “wishing is a hazardous art.” Her knowledge makes her hesitant to ask for her heart’s desire. So, the Djinn shares the story of his incarcerations. The result is Three Thousand Years of Longing, a thoughtful rumination layered in concepts. While rich in emotional complexity, the depth might not be as profound as it hopes. 

Tilda Swinton and Idris Elba in scenes from ‘Three Thousand Years of Longing.’
Photo courtesy of MGM

Director George Miller has smartly co-adapted (with Augusta Gore) A.S. Byatt’s novella The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. Drawing on a wealth of sources, Miller weaves elements nodding to One Thousand and One Nights, Canterbury Tales, The Decameron, Gilgamesh, and others into a meditative film that somehow still manages to maintain a raw intensity. Miller’s eclectic directing career has included the Mad Max series, The Witches of Eastwick, Lorenzo’s Oil, and Happy Feet. With Gore, he has infused the mostly serious screenplay with flashes of dry wit and a unique gallows humor.

Alithea leaves her London home and travels to a conference in Istanbul. Plagued by bizarre demonic hallucinations, the slightly damaged Alithea is withdrawn and almost taciturn. She purchases an innocuous glass bottle from the backroom of a small shop and, from this container, releases the Djinn. Immediately, she suspects the Djinn to be a trickster, the most common and traditional belief about these spirits.

As the Djinn relates his history, the pair open up to each other. His three personal stories, presented as offerings, create a symmetry with the three tendered wishes. The flashbacks are vividly created with the magic more in the telling and humanity than in the effects. 

He begins by relating his relationship with the Queen of Sheba and how Solomon incarcerated him for the first time. The next story jumps ahead to another court centuries later. The last encounter was in the 1800s when he found a love he desired more than his freedom. 

The framing device occurs in the Istanbul hotel room, where Alithea and the Djinn wrangle over conflicts and needs. Miller beautifully stylizes the merging of the past with the present and the present with fantasy. CGI is not overused, and whenever it is employed is effectively presented.

Tilda Swinton delicately assays the hyper-aware but sensitive and withdrawn Alithea with pain and hope. She yearns for more but expects nothing. Idris Elba’s melancholy Djinn matches her yearning but provides a grounding. The Djinn’s ability to adapt and grow earns Alithea’s trust, allowing her to help him escape being caught between realms that would leave him in oblivion. She learns that “we exist only if we are real to others.” Perfectly matched, these two actors embody the dust of humanity and the fire of a djinn. 

The featured cast populates the flashbacks with appropriately heightened, if slightly generic, performances — woodcuts and illustrations brought to life. The exception is Burcu Gölgedar, as Zefir, the object of the Djinn’s 19th-century passion, gives a ferocious portrait of a woman with an unquenchable passion for knowledge that nearly drives her mad. In addition, Melissa Jaffer and Anne Charleston share a hilarious cameo as Alithea’s bigoted London neighbors.

Much of the film focuses on the importance of stories and the art and act of storytelling. This roots in the idea that stories began as a way to explain existence and the unknown. Gradually, mythos gave way to science, the latter being “what we know … so far.” Gods outlived their purpose and were reduced to metaphor. These are heady topics, and occasionally Miller struggles to clarify so many ideas. However, his perfectly cast stars make these exchanges compelling, if not completely accessible. Wrapped in the mythology is the larger question: Can we escape fate? 

Perhaps the movie poses too many questions and fails to answer many of them. Its epic nature often conflicts with its desire to be an intimate romantic fantasy. But with the underlying passion in its lead performances, Three Thousand Years of Longing makes a strangely haunting and ultimately uplifting experience.

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Author Lee Miao and her book at Frank Melville Memorial Park in Setauket. Photo by Heidi Sutton/TBR News Media

By Jeffrey Sanzel

“Stop. Overthinking. Everything. Ellie. Yeah, I wish.” So states the self-proclaimed “overthinker” Ellie, the resourceful protagonist of Lee Y. Miao’s debut young adult novel Wei to Go! (Clear Fork Publishing). “Every once in a while, grown-ups want to protect you and pretend that everything’s fine. Then they’ll worry their heads off while forcing a smile.” 

After “triple moves” since kindergarten, twelve-year-old Ellie leads a well-adjusted California existence, happily living with her parents and little brother, Kipp. She plays softball, delights in language (an admitted “word-enthusiast”), and circles a crush on Russ, a boy from school. 

But a cloud steals into her happy life when her father is in danger of losing his company to a sinister corporation, the Black Turtle Group. Her Hong Kong trip to save his business and career takes her on a six-day quest. Accompanied by her mother and brother, she encounters a cast of characters who both support and foil her in turn. Among those she encounters is Mr. Han, the wise and slightly whimsical gentleman who may or may not be a benevolent figure.

The author has neatly blended a mystery plot with an honest, unstarry tween portrait of a girl with no sense of direction but a true sense of purpose. Miao understands the mind of a junior high student. Ellie struggles with her feelings for Russ:

He’s a guy from my homeroom who’s also in my math class. I’m going to play it cool and grin, and I don’t care if he’ll see a parade of silvery turquoise tinsel on my teeth.

I do not have a crush on him. Period. 

But I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. 

The first-person narration reflects a clever, insightful mind with a wry self-awareness: “Everyone says I inherited Dad’s nose but got skipped for his blue eyes and drawing skills. But they’re overrated. I’ve got his smile but nothing to smile about now.”

Separating this from many YA adventures is the cultural element. With a mother of Chinese descent, Ellie questions her mixed identity. In afterschool Chinese heritage class, a nasty student refers to her as half-and-half. Ellie’s odyssey serves a dual purpose: to save her father’s business and connect with pieces of herself that she had either distanced or, ultimately, was unaware. 

While trying to navigate Hong Kong, she faces both enculturation and culture shock. Here, the “word nerd” (again self-admitted) embraces the lesson that the same word with a different tone can have a completely different meaning in Chinese. This epiphany goes to the root of her being and spurs intellectual and emotional growth. The complex concept is one that she applies to how she takes in the world.

Ellie recruits nine-year-old Kipp to aid her quest. And while she makes quips about her Little Brothers for Dummies manual, he shows surprising insight, drawing on his seemingly bottomless sports references. Ellie accepts that all sibling relationships are fraught with annoyance but embraces his uncanny and unmatched ability as a human GPS. “… Big sisters have to take the good with the technical.”

The Black Turtle Group, the “corporation that everyone’s heard of but knows nothing about,” makes for a strong antagonist. Miao surrounds the monolithic organization with a sense of power and danger, a business that casts a long shadow with threats of takeovers and stolen industry secrets. 

Ellie is brave and understands the risks, but she is committed to helping her family: “I read once that sometimes people go to dark places to find answers.” Wei to Go! offers plenty of intrigues: Ellie followed throughout a new and overwhelming place, having to solve cryptic verses and signs, and work her way through various shops and restaurants in the rainy and humid city. “When I found out the world is bigger than my family and me, I didn’t know I’d literally be running around in a new place far from home.”

While Wei to Go! is immersed in Chinese and Chinese American culture, the story’s universality complements an enlightening narrative and makes for an entertaining, engaging, and memorable reading experience.

Author Lee Y. Miao lives in the Three Village community with her family and a tireless dog. After working in financial jobs and writing K-12 educational material, she turned to middle-grade fiction. Her stories are about contemporary characters who discover connections to their cultures and families from the past. Sign up for her email newsletter at www.leeymiao.com to follow her writing journey. Wei To Go! is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

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Photo courtesy of MacIntyre Purcell Publishing Inc.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Looking for an entertaining summer read? A lightweight coffee table book? A terrific celebration of Long Island? Written by Stacy Mandel Kaplan, Kimberly Towers, Scott J. Mandel, and Jordan Kaplan, Hey Long Island … Do U Remember? (MacIntyre Purcell Publishing Inc.) is a fun, informative tome, blending a diverse collection of photos with fascinating anecdotes. The project began in 2008 when the authors started a Facebook group for the sharing of pictures and the history of Long Island. The group has since grown to more than 159,000 members. 

The book opens with a quick Long Island overview — a did you know?: geography, legal status, etc. Following this, the authors present a brief timeline, beginning with Long Island’s formation from a glacier in 19,000 BC and quickly working up to December 14, 2020, when the first vaccine was given in the United States, at Long Island Jewish Medical Center, in New Hyde Park. This thumbnail sketch sites the building of the Long Beach Boardwalk (1914); The Big Duck, off Route 24, in Flanders (1931); Levittown, the first modern American suburb (1947); the invention of the first video game (1958); the Blizzard of 1978; and the founding of the Long Island Ducks baseball team (2000), among other particulars.

On page ten, the book proper begins with Bald Hill in Farmingville. Each one- or two-page spread covers a different place, person, or event. With over 130 black-and-white photos       — many seen here for the first time — Hey Long Island … Do U Remember? is a delightful collective history of the place that over eight million people call home. 

One of the book’s many joys is opening at any point and working in any direction. The book requires no specific course, and the reader can dive in at will. For example, on page 14, one can read about the Bethpage Air Show. On page 75, details are offered on the “Sweet Hollow Creamery and Milk Home Delivery on Long Island.” On page 87 there is the “Riviera Bath Club.” Turn the page to have the author’s take on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Some pieces neatly build on others. “The Fashion Industry on Long Island” segues into “Fashion Trends on Long Island.” The latter starts with a portrait of the patriotic-influenced clothing of the Word War II 1940s. It travels through the media-influenced 1960s, moving onto the bold 1970s and the MTV 1980s. The authors’ crisp prose paints vivid images in a few short strokes.

The creators beautifully shape each entry, knowing when to allow the visuals to take the primary focus. “Charles Lindbergh’s Historic Flight” is dominated by a photo of the Spirit of St. Louis spanning a page and a half. They provide the most basic information (the flight from Roosevelt Field, Garden City, to Paris, the 3,600 mile/thirty-three-hour flight) and let the image carry the power. The prose-centric on “Airfields and Airports” is next, followed naturally by “Cradle of Aviation.” 

Cultural nods range from the band Ninedays, Jones Beach Theater, and the Ray Romano house to Port Washington’s Beacon Theatre and the Long Island Musical Hall of Fame. Oheka Castle warrants three pages with incredible photos, including an aerial view of the castle and another of the gardens and reflecting pool. “Houses of Worship” spans five pages and offers a complete range of religious denominations. There are a plethora of parks and preserves (“Tanner Park,” “Long Island Game Farm Wildlife Park and Children’s Zoo,” “Eisenhower Park,” “Muttontown Preserve,” “Bethpage State Park”) and restaurants (“Nathan’s Famous,” “Wetson’s,” “Pastosa Ravioli,” “Frank’s Steaks” and the “Lincoln Inn”). 

The book celebrates a varied and fascinating cross-section: everything from Grumman, Newsday, Superstorm Sandy, and the LIRR, to the Montauk Lighthouse, Whisper the Smithtown Bull, the Hope Sculpture, and the World’s Fair … Sagamore Hill and Sam Ash … the beaches, the festivals, the parades. And, of course, no book on Long Island is complete without at least a reference to poet Walt Whitman, as writer and icon. 

The authors smartly present enough information to cover each subject and stimulate interest. In addition to casual reading, the book is ideal for the classroom. Students could utilize the book to gain general knowledge on various events, ideas, and themes and then select topics to explore further and in-depth. 

Hey Long Island … Do U Remember? is a wonderful book and terrific addition to the library of works honoring the rich Long Island narrative. Order a copy today  at www.barnesandnoble.com, www.amazon.com, or your favorite online retailer.

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From left, Daniel Kaluuya, Brandon Perea and Keke Palmer in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

If something tries to be too many things, does it risk becoming about nothing?

Such is the case with writer-director-producer Jordan Peele’s Nope, a science fiction-horror-Western-comedy-domestic family drama that comments on everything from race to commerce to capitalism. The brilliant Peele’s previous work included Get Out and Us, highly original and disturbing films that combine his unique visuals with compelling storytelling.

On the surface, Nope is a traditional summer blockbuster, a high-end It Came From Outer Space, or a darker, violent Close Encounters of the Third Kind. 

With nods to matinee features of the past, the setup trades on well-known tropes with an intentionally old-fashioned feel: Something not right is going on out in the dessert … power ceases, winds blow, horses whinny … could it be that strange object glimpsed in the sky? 

Nope centers on the Haywood family, owner of Haywood’s Hollywood Horses. After the sudden and mysterious death of Otis, Sr., his son, Otis, Jr., takes over the business. (A fascinating Daniel Kaluuya is first-rate: His deadpan, comedic timing is flawless, and his dramatic stillness shows brooding depth.) Otis, Jr.—called O.J. (the first of many odd and unrelated commentaries)—struggles to keep the business going. 

His sister, Emerald (a force of nature in the hands of Keke Palmer), interferes, goads, and offers her opinions, hopes, and visions. She is both a support and a thorn, often simultaneously. In the hands of these gifted actors, the sibling relationship deserves an unencumbered film of its own. 

Quickly, the dessert residents become aware of a UAP—Unexplained Aerial Phenomena (what used to be called a UFO). Former child star Ricky “Jupe” Park (Steven Yeun) runs a third-rate western attraction, Jupiter’s Claim, and introduces the Star Lasso Experience, whereby his audience can see the UAP. With shades of King Kong and the like, this does not go well. 

Meanwhile, O.J. and Emerald enlist a Fry’s Electronics employee, Angel Torres (wryly understated Brandon Perea), to help them film the entity. Eventually, they recruit cinematographer Antlers Holst (a delightfully mannered and just over the edge of bizarre Michael Wincott) to help them capture the phenomenon on film. Earlier, Holst had fired O.J. from a commercial shoot when one of the Haywood horses kicked a crew person. (The importance of why surfaces later.)

All this is standard horror movie fare. Peele adds flashbacks of Park’s childhood incident on a sitcom, Gordy’s Home!, where the titular chimp went on a rampage, mauling and possibly murdering cast members. The link to the present is tenuous. Perhaps it is about predators. Maybe it is about exploitation. Or capitalism. Maybe. O.J. says of the extra-terrestrial: “It’s alive, it’s territorial, and it wants to eat us.” Are we meant to draw a connection?

Or is it that Park was on television? So much of Nope focuses on media and capturing the worst events with the goal of fame and profit? Emerald and O.J.’s reflexive discussion of the “money shot”—the “Oprah shot”—drives them forward. How much relates to the Haywood patriarch’s claim that the unnamed man in the first moving picture, The Horse in Motion, was his great-great-grandfather? Is this a commentary on both racial and historical cinematic issues?

And then those inflatable men? Are they meant as symbols? Or, to bastardize a Freudian quote: “Sometimes an inflatable man is just an inflatable man.” (Oh, and the TMZ reporter …)

Peele poses more questions than he chooses to answer. This can make for a fascinating movie or just a frustrating one. The drive in the first part of the film works on many levels. The latter parts tend to bog down, with the occasional scare and a handful of gross-out moments (fortunately few). The tension becomes looser rather than tauter as it moves to the conclusion. With the seemingly myriad layers of “meaning,” nothing fully reaches closure. 

As for the monster itself, the revelation is interesting, but viewers will divide on its actual effectiveness. In short, it needs to be seen to be judged. Some will find it creatively horrifying, but others will see it no different than the hokier creatures of the 1950s.

Peele will always be a good filmmaker and often a great one. With Nope, the film lives somewhere between “hmmm!” and “huh?” He has assembled a strong cast, first-rate imagery, and a unique take on an established genre. Some will delight in its obscurer moments, and others will sigh and wonder. However, we can bet whatever he dreams up next will be something worth experiencing. 

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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