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To the Rafters

The eight rafts looked like something out of Gilligan’s Island. There was one fashioned out of bamboo; another out of an old mattress and duct tape. One was made of PVC pipe. But only a few of the rafts — launched in the Wolf River Harbor from Mud Island Saturday morning — would have gotten the castaways off the island.

The homemade boats were part of the First Annual River Raft Regatta put on by the Riverfront Development Corporation (RDC). Each raft had to be made of recycled material and winners (for 1-2 person, 3-4 person, and 5-8 person rafts) got a cash prize. There were also prizes for the Titanic (quickest sinking), the Regatta Queen (the most aesthetic/unique), and the Ugly Duckling.

When Midtowner Bill Nelson tested his raft a few days before the race, he discovered a stability problem.

“I don’t want to be in the Titanic class,” he said. “I have to do some redesign work. The raft stayed together, but I think once I put an outrigger on it, it will be better.”

He built his raft out of plastic containers and a neighbor’s old wooden fence. The figurehead was a deer skull.

While building rafts from recycled parts might sound a little strange, the RDC wanted an interesting event that would bring people to the riverfront.

For his two-person raft, Michael Martin took wire mesh from a rabbit cage in his backyard, old detergent bottles, and some found objects.

“One day my fiancé spotted an old air mattress in the road. … I think we’re just trying to get one that floats.”

By 8:45 a.m., about 60 people were clustered around the rafts. Some were already talking about what they’re going to do differently next year. Family members and friends were milling around, taking pictures and asking questions.

The first heat of the regatta was something out of a Sealy commercial. Team Laughlin’s raft used an old mattress, which they deftly paddled. Martin’s team perched awkwardly on their air mattress and had trouble getting to the start line.

The gun went off, and team Laughlin whipped around the buoy in the center of the harbor and back in three minutes and 27 seconds. But Martin’s team had just reached the midway point and seemed to be … sinking. Putting their paddles aside, the two men lay flat on the deflating air mattress and kicked to the finish.

The third race pitted Nelson’s raft against what has been referred to as “the party barge.” A pontoon boat as big as the truck that hauled it in, the wood-and-plastic-barrel Pretti raft fit five comfortably under a blue tarp canopy.

Nelson’s crew started to board, and they almost tipped. The raft seemed to be hooked on a nearby canoe. They untangled the boats, and Nelson, his son, his sister, his brother, his niece, and his nephew piled on.

“My wife didn’t want any part of it,” he said. “Originally, I wanted to put my 12-year-old son in it, but [participants] have to be 18 or older. … We may get wet, but we’ll laugh through it anyway.”

The third race was more competitive than the others as the deer head battled the party barge. The party barge pulled ahead, beating the deer by a minute.

“Eight years ago, I started fishing the river during the summertime. It gets a bad rap about being dangerous,” Nelson said. “If you wait until the water drops, it’s okay. I love to fish out there from the first of June to the first of November. … The river and I have a history, and this will be part of it.”

I think we forget about our Mississippi River. You can’t see it from much of Memphis — or, now given all the building on the bluff, from much of downtown — and it’s either overlooked or seen as an obstacle on the way to West Memphis.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. In an effort to get people to use the river more, the RDC now rents canoes and paddle boats at Mud Island, and admission is free.

“We thought [the Regatta] would be fun, family-friendly, and also give people a chance to interplay with the water,” said Dorchelle Spence, RDC director of communications.

And even though it’s as hot as Hades on the day of the race, it’s cool to see so many people actually in — or enjoying something on — the river. 

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Film Features Film/TV

Tricky

By now, it should come as no surprise that a thin TV series like Bewitched would be made into a feature film with a handful of Academy Award winners and bankable box-office stars. Hollywood has mined all kinds of sources, including (but not limited to) Car 54, Where Are You?, Sergeant Bilko, Starsky and Hutch, and maybe 11 bad Saturday Night Live skits. There’s an I Dream of Jeannie coming up, not to mention The Dukes of Hazzard and Miami Vice. I can’t imagine that it will be long before The Facts of Life, Manimal, and Diff’rent Strokes get silver-screen treatment. It’s easy to understand that, in 1996, Steve Martin was slumming when he made Bilko or why Lorne Michaels would desperately seek a minor hit out of an SNL franchise. We all need money. We all want a hit. But what on earth would motivate two superstars at the height of their game (Nicole Kidman and Will Ferrell) or two classy legends (Michael Caine and Shirley MacLaine) to an overlong sitcom mess like Bewitched? Is there no art?

The premise of the TV show was that an ordinary, handsome advertising agent meets and falls in love with a beautiful woman, and once they’re married, she reveals that she’s a witch. To make the marriage work, she tries to keep her sorcery to a minimum, but this is the source of wacky marital conflicts between Darrin and Samantha ‹ not to mention Samantha’s wacky relatives: colorful mother Endora, flamboyant Uncle Arthur, etc. Samantha was played by the stately beauty Elizabeth Montgomery, and over the show’s eight-year run, two actors played Darrin (Dick York and Dick Sargent). Endora was stage and screen grand dame Agnes Moorehead and Uncle Arthur was the incomparably “festive” Paul Lynde.

In the film, Kidman plays Isabel, a naive witch deciding arbitrarily that she wants to be normal. Michael Caine is her scamp of a father, Nigel, who insists that her conversion will be temporary, since she’s not very good at mundane and frustrating tasks. Across town (Hollywood, that is), has-been actor Jack Wyatt (Ferrell) is offered the historically thankless role of Darrin in a TV Bewitched remake. To preserve his celebrity, he insists on an unknown to play Samantha. When he stumbles upon Isabel at a bookstore, he can’t help but be wowed. She looks like Elizabeth Montgomery, and most importantly, she’s got Montgomery’s trademark magical nose-twitch.

Brief summary of subsequent plodding (I mean plotting):

Jack is a jerk, but Isabel falls for him anyway. She turns out to be a pretty good Samantha, even as Jack tanks with test audiences. A colorful stage actress, Iris Smythson (MacLaine) is cast as Endora (MacLaine as Endora ‹ inspired or obvious? I dunno, but it’s perfect). Nigel falls for her and suspects she might be a witch too. Jack and Isabel clash over her talent and his manners, etc., while Isabel’s real magic causes all kinds of zany hijinks. I think there’s some influence from hot screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Adaptation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) in that his films specialize in inverted introspection and clever reexaminations of reality vs. fantasy. Alas, there is no wit here. This Nora and Delia Ephron-penned effort is like a Paul Rudnick (In and Out, The Stepford Wives) rough draft ‹ all cheap one-liners, no sustained comic momentum. When Jack announces early on (sans magical influence) that he wants three trailers, a leopard, and a two-story cake every Wednesday (aka “Cake Day”), we know that only silliness will abound. When the best thing about the movie is the scant-seen Nigel/Iris romance, we know that not a lot of thought went into the writing of the script, no matter how clever the idea. At least the premise was interesting. Instead of doing a flat remake of the sitcom, it’s a movie about remaking the sitcom.

But Ferrell is allowed free comic range (not good with the unsubtle comic), and Kidman doesn’t seem to know whether she’s in an homage or a spoof or a drama or what. The film’s climax is the inevitable appearance of Uncle Arthur, badly caricatured by Steve Carell. Pish.

Both Kidman and Ferrell seem determined to squander the interest of film audiences everywhere by too many movies and too few of them good. (Combined, they’ve six films so far this year.) Bewitched could have been a good step for both, but instead it leaves the audience merely bothered and bewildered. ‹ Bo List


David LaChapelle’s new film, Rize, is a documentary that tries to be more than just an exposé on the newest outlet for the frustrations of the poor. The subject of the film is krumping, a dance form that began as humble hip-hop entertainment and has slowly transcended its origins. To capture the art, LaChapelle takes us through the evolution of krumping, including the life stories that feed this dance and straying into questionable musings on the nature of the African-American experience.

Krumping began as clowning. The film follows a Los Angeles performer named Tommy Johnson who performs as Tommy the Hip-Hop Clown. Tommy used dancing as a part of his routine while entertaining at birthday parties in poor L.A. neighborhoods. Slowly, as his business expanded, Tommy began to hire kids to perform with him. They took Tommy’s dancing, a mixture of various hip-hop forms, and expanded it.

But some of Tommy’s older dancers grew tired of using dance just to entertain. They made it clear in the film what they think of Tommy. He may have given them the idea, but Tommy only invented clowning; they created krumping. Krumping is far more serious and aggressive than clowning, accentuating the wild, almost ecstatic quality of the movements.

For the dancers, krumping has many functions. Krumping, according to the film, is one of the few positive outlets available to these kids. It provides them with a chance to safely release their anger; it creates a community of dancers who become family; and it helps young people avoid getting involved in gangs. In the neighborhoods where they grew up, the dancers explain, you’re either a gangster or a clown.

Rize is at its most moving when LaChapelle intertwines the story of krumping with the realities of the dancers’ lives. They struggle with broken families, drugs, and gang violence, finding expression for these struggles in their dance. It’s the age-old story of African-American art, from the blues to hip-hop.

LaChapelle goes even deeper when he intersplices scenes from L.A. riots, tribal dances in Africa, and spiritual ecstasies in black Baptist churches with the footage of krumping. But the association is hard to swallow. The dancers wear face makeup because they started as clowns, not tribesman.

As a filmmaker, LaChapelle, a well-known fashion photographer and music-video director, still has a few things to learn. The film cannot find a comfortable way to end, and the mixture of hand-held low-quality footage with glossy MTV-style shoots is awkward. The strength of the movie is its source material, the undeniable appeal of seeing people who have next to nothing create works of power and originality. �

‹ Ben Popper