Author: Adam Burdeshaw

Visit: https://adamburdeshaw.com/about/

Reclamation

Prologue

“Marley was dead: to begin with.”

I was five years old when I saw A Muppet Christmas Carol in theaters.

The year was 1992. Walt Disney Studios, then at the peak of its movie-making prowess, timed the film’s release for December 11th, just in time for the Christmas season.

I don’t remember much about the experience. For instance, I couldn’t tell you what candy I got at the theater, if any, but I doubt I much cared. And I don’t remember exclaiming, “Ew!” when the Marley brothers sang, “Our hearts were painted black.” But my sister tells me I did, so I’ll take her word for it.

What I do remember is my feeling of total surrender to the characters, the story, and Michael Caine’s unmatched performance as Ebenezer Scrooge.

It is probably a trick of memory, but when I look back on my experience seeing A Muppet Christmas Carol, I remember it as me reliving a story I had already known and loved for a long time.

But, as I said, I was only five years old. So, it must be a trick of memory. Or more of gravy than of grave, perhaps.

Continue reading Reclamation

Radical Open-Mindedness in a Post, Post-Modern World

Disclaimer: This post, in its entirety, is a digression.

I’ve struggled recently to conjure ideas for a new post that people will find entertaining. Being skilled enough to follow Infinite Mass (which I thought was solid) with something of equal weight seems to be my primary hang-up.

In that struggle, it never crossed my mind that this is my column for posting whatever I want, whenever I want. It’s a lot like MySpace in that way—and just like my extinct MySpace profile, it gets about as much traffic.

So, to hell with it. I’ll write about what’s on my mind and call it a Digressionary Piece (like that’s a thing; if it’s not, I’m coining it).

Continue reading Radical Open-Mindedness in a Post, Post-Modern World

Indiana Jones and the Death of Magic

Disclaimer: I don’t usually write movie reviews. I’m not very good at it. There are people out there who do a much better job. All the same, here’s my attempt.

Disney and the Mangling of Lucasfilm IP

The past eight years have been anything but kind to the nostalgic IP of the 80s and 90s.

Although opinions vary depending on who you ask, the general impression I get from people (and a sentiment I share) is that Disney has all but destroyed Lucasfilm’s intellectual property—to such a brutal extent that I would now entertain a conspiracy theory suggesting that it was all part of Disney’s deep-rooted revenge plot to brutalize the franchise it wished it had thought of, to begin with.

I won’t repeat how I and others feel about the Star Wars sequel trilogy except to say that I’ll likely never watch any of them again, and for me, that’s the litmus for whether I think a movie is any good.

But I admit there is a high probability I’m out of touch with what appeals to most people. For example, I thought Rogue One was a steaming slice of crap—mainly because if you hold up a freeze-frame of the movie’s protagonist, Jyn Erso, alongside a faceless slab of moldy cardboard, I would have difficulty telling the two apart. But I realize that for most Star Wars fans, all that matters is whether Glup Shitto makes his cameo. So, what do I know?

Continue reading Indiana Jones and the Death of Magic

One

The Setup

The church feels Anglican, appropriate for the circumstances. The pulpit rests beneath an arched dome inlaid with what looks like gilded embroidery. Circling the same space, organ pipes adorn the hollowed-out walls between cylindrical columns. The only instruments on site are an oak-stained grand piano and the organ, which I like to think of as the control station. It looks like one of those old-timey phone operator booths I’ve only ever seen in classic movies.

And as if in strict defiance of stage rules, the organ keys face out toward the congregation so that the organist must sit with his back to us as he plays. I wonder if this aids his focus; I suspect it might.

Beneath the organ pipes and hovering centrally behind the podium, above what I think must be a baptistry (I’ve been out of the formal church setting for too long, it seems), is engraved the affirmation: “One Lord — One Faith — One Baptism.”

Continue reading One

Infinite Mass

Of late, I have become fixated on a curious yet dreary task, still in its infancy, of understanding the type of person who drives a car with a loud engine. I’m talking about the ones that rev and split the night like a steam-punk thunderbolt, interrupting both audible and internal conversations with indiscriminate malice.

As someone who navigates the spoken word like an uphill ice slope, struggling with gasping efforts at articulation should I find the grace of your undivided attention, you can understand how I might feel about such interruptions.

You can understand me when I say: it would not strike me as unjust to round up these renegade road warriors and detain them for questioning. But I promise this sentiment is academic; I mean them no harm.

And you know that whenever someone says, “I promise,” you can bet grandma’s farm that they mean it.

Continue reading Infinite Mass