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Power
and Terror: Noam Chomsky in Our Times, John
Junkerman's incredibly one-sided ass-kissing of the
titular 74-year-old left-wing MIT linguistics professor,
screens this Friday night at the Dryden Theatre. His
fans will be delighted. His enemies should start working
on their picket signs.
And disinterested third parties will likely be
lulled to sleep as the bestselling author of 9-11
waxes poetic on a speaking tour that resembles a rock
concert spectacle (selling out auditoriums in hours and
pawning more wares than KISS – but there isn't a
Chomsky cooler/coffin...yet). He's on par with Ralph
Nader in terms of both personal appearance and the
ability to deliver an incredibly intelligent message in
a truly boring and uncharismatic manner.
Not
nearly as long or as balanced as 1992's Manufacturing
Consent: Noam Chomsky and the Media, Power
will divide audiences as much as Chomsky's written
musings. Like
Michael Moore in Bowling For
Columbine, he suggests the death toll of 9/11 is
a mere drop in the bucket compared to the heap of bodies
created by suspect US foreign policy over the last
several decades, while reminding us that said strategies
have ultimately lead our country to fight the same
people we armed 20 years ago.
Power may have been more interesting if
there were somebody from the Right responding to his
views. It doesn't even have to be an equal to Chomsky
– anyone will do. (1:24
– )
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If you were disappointed by
the lack of character development and substance in The
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, you'll
find a much better portrayal of sisterhood in this film.
The mentally retarded Pauline live with sister Martha,
who does everything from tying Pauline's shoes to
cutting her food. When Martha dies, her estate is
divided equally among her three sisters, with the
stipulation that Pauline live with either jet-setting
Cecile or local shop-owner/wannabe opera star Paulette.
Other than focusing on
the elderly, there isn't much new ground covered here,
but writer-director Lieven Debrauwer does manage to wrap
things up in an ass-pleasing 78 minutes. It's
isn't much, but it's a lot more than callous Callie
Khouri did with that Ya-Ya
crap. Also, there are no irritating hats. (1:27 -
for brief language)
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