Review: Madea Goes to Jail (2009)

http://madeagoestojailmovie.com/theatrical.html

        This post will most likely require a SPOILER ALERT…

Last night, when I learned that we were going to watch this movie, I slunk back into my comfortable assumption about Tyler Perry's work.  I've seen a few films that have had their moments, but overall I found his style a bit shallow and overbearing.  This assumption was a FAIL.  Perhaps I'd been missing the forest for the trees by channel surfing through his romantic comedies and the silliness of House of Payne.

The IMDB synopsis is as follows:
        At long last, Madea returns to the big screen in TYLER PERRY'S MADEA GOES TO JAIL. This time    America's favorite irreverent, pistol-packin' grandmomma is raising hell behind bars and lobbying for   her     freedom...Hallelujer!

        After a high-speed freeway chase puts Madea (TYLER PERRY) in front of the judge, her reprieve is        short-  lived as anger management issues get the best of her and land her in jail. A gleeful Joe (TYLER         PERRY)  couldn't be happier at Madea's misfortune. But Madea's eccentric family members the Browns      (DAVID and      TAMALA MANN) rally behind her, lending their special "country" brand of support.

        Meanwhile, Assistant District Attorney Joshua Hardaway (DEREK LUKE) is on the fast track to career      success. But Hardaway lands a case too personal to handle - defending young prostitute and former drug  addict Candace Washington (KEISHA KNIGHT PULLIAM) - and asks his fiancée and fellow ADA         Linda   Holmes (ION OVERMAN) to fill in on his behalf. When Candace ends up in jail, Madea befriends the young  woman, protecting her in a "motherly" way as only Madea can.

I don't really feel this synopsis captures what I got from the film.  Of course the comic relief provided by Madea and her familial minions is absolutely ridiculous.  Perry /flexed his creativity in creating these characters and orhcestrating their interactions.  Superb.  The real value, however, lies in the "meanwhile"…

Perry touches on some truly profound issues in exploring ambiguities in morality, class-based assumptions, and justice itself.  In this way, Madea seeks to explore a wide gamut of what vague eggheads deem "the human experience."

Josh, an ADA in Atlanta, takes himself off prosecuting a woman for prosecution because he knew her previously.  We later find out that, while in college, this girl "Candy/Candace" was invited BY JOSH to a football party.  He left her there because he had a date and the team raped her while he was gone.  Apparently she was a straight-A student before then, and she has since been turning tricks, brutalized by a "manager" as too many women are today.  However, one of the lessons this film teaches is to refrain from victimizing yourself and taking control of your life.  Candy's character fits that all-too-common "victim" yet seeks redemption in this  carpe diem sort of way.

Josh's fiancée Linda, also an ADA in the same office, finds his taking care of objectionable out of sheer insecurity and jealousy.  She lectures Josh on why he shouldn't associate with her given his social position.  A group of ADA's from that office discuss the causality of choices people they encounter have made and deserving their lot in life.  "She had the same opportunities as you, Josh, and she chose not to make something of her life.  You chose differently."  Surely, moments as poignant as these are few and far between in contemporary cinema.

What's more, Josh handed off Candy's prosecution to his fiancée, Linda, and so this jealous "hell-hath-no-fury" type is charged with sending her fiancée's acquaintance to prison.  She does this fraudulently by padding Candy's file with rap-sheets from closed cases.  When discovered by Josh's best friend in the office, she swears him to secrecy by threatening to reveal the fact that he cheated on his bar exam.  I was thinking, "NHOMBRE, what kind of justice-serving office is this?!?!"  Nevertheless, It was this method, CHOSEN by ADA Linda, that made her legendary 87% conviction rate possible.  It turns out the "choices" of which she earlier spoke were not necessarily the "right" ones.

The comedy provided by Madea's shenanigans served as a comforting backdrop to the truly difficult work Perry executed with the second plotline.  I'm interested to see other works of his in their entirety and refrain from sweeping assumptions.  Your task is to see this movie, then tell me what you thought.  K Tanks.

HD

WTB: Summer Camps at UT

One of my most fond loathsome memories of summer while being an undergraduate at UT is the overwhelming influx of children ages -2 to 18 that descend upon campus like locusts every summer.  I was unfortunately reminded of this parasitism while attempting to play basketball this past Saturday and also while watching the blockbuster hit Independence Day.

For as long as I can remember, UT Recsports (among other university departments) has maintained Faustian pacts with various camps for school-aged children.  The agreement goes something like this: Camp Beelzebub pays UT an obscene amount of cash, from the even more obscene amounts the attendees pay, and UT permits the payor to do what it likes for a specified period of time. 

For almost the entire summer, these swarms infest every square foot of every gym and residence hall.  They settle in for predetermined lengths of time during which all other goings-on must be displaced and accommodate the exodus of kids from one building to the next. 

My major qualm with this practice is not that I am against UT providing resources and facilities to camps for kids, but rather the extent to which the student body is forced to take a backseat to these mistresses of recreation.  Countless times I have had to move courts while playing ball and wait for tortuous periods of time to play a single game [see: 2 hrs to play a 20 minute game].  Some days I have less patience for this oppression and just forfeit playing altogether.

All of the facilities UT is renting out to these camps are bought, maintained, and paid for by student fees.  Yeah, you know, those seemingly arbitrary sums the administration continue to hike up for allegedly justified changes in cost.  And you have to pay them, even if you never step foot in Gregory Gym until your graduation ceremony. 

The Student Body's interest in those STUDENT facilities is being suppressed so that RecSports or some other university entity can profit even more from the assuredly handsome fees it charges each camp.  I have engaged in a few "discussions" with RecSports personnel, of which I was once a part, but they are understandably not the ones making the decisions. 

I have been displaced previously for other STUDENT events (i.e. Intramurals, festivals, garage sales) but all of these were for the overall benefit of students.  This is sheer misappropriation of assets.  Where is the interest of those whose interest should be us?  If it is any consolation, it is only temporary (though perennial) and only SOME of those kids are beyond obnoxious.

Denny's Everyday Value Scam

Today, The family went to take advantage of the denny's promotion of a grand slam for $3.99.  All they were serving, however, was a grand scam.

The only visible publication of the specific terms of this offer were on a small sign on the front door, facing outwards.  When we ordered the "grand slam", a commonplace term associated with Denny's itself, the waitress failed to mention the secret combination one had to order to activate the special.

She insisted, in fact, that "you need to order four items". There was no mention of the "everyday special grand scam" on the menu itself.  Then we eat what we thought were $3.99 plates and feel grossly underwhelmed when the check comes.  "For that much we could've eaten at central market", someone lamented.

So, dear reader, be advised that you must order three items to take advantage of this special and don't count of denny's to be upfront about it.  NHOMBRE!

American Vice: Entitlement

A little while back I read an article by a columnist named Ruben Navarrette, Jr.  I used his book, Odyssey of a Harvard Chicano, as partial fodder for my senior thesis on evolving assimilation.  I've often referred to him as a cultural opportunist and shameless self-promoter, but I found his reporting on other people's work to be particularly insightful.

http://www.durangoherald.com/sections/Opinion/Editorial/2009/05/04/Book_details_toxic_effects_of_narcissism_on_American_society/

Navarrette writes about a researcher's concept of "Generation Me" and the growing culture of narcissism and entitlement among younger generations of Americans.  I'm absolutely positive we all have observed this, and probably indulged in it at some point. 

Generally, this trend demands and expects special accommodations for objectively normal things.  Cited are examples like people calling into work because they were too tired and needed more sleep, students asking for accommodations for birthday trips to vegas, among others.  The thinking seems to render impressions of oneself as exceptional or at least of warranting exceptional treatment.  I have definitely gone through a phase of this, but as I matured, I realized that making excuses and cutting myself constant slack was unfair to myself and to others.    

The article conjectures that this phenomenon is rooted in a popular obsession with oneself.  I think you see this in our self-preserving child rearing: trophies for merely participating, not keeping score in normally competitive games, etc.  I think in certain contexts these are important approaches to the formation of children's views towards others, but in the wrong contexts they seem to impart inflated views of themselves.  Ready rewards are made without requisite effort, a lack of responsibility and self-ownership plagues the development of upstanding principles. 

Nowadays, It's not so much about taking pride in your work and doing your best, it's about doing minimal work and expecting maximum payout and credit.  Ideally, one would try their best and be satisfied with that.  It appears that the value of hard work and a justified sense of achievement have lost value and ground to selfishness and complete self-centeredness.  But what are the effects of this?

        "'Narcissism is absolutely toxic to society,' Twenge said. "When faced with common resources, narcissists take more for themselves and leave less for others. They tend to be greedy and take too       many risks. They feel entitled, don't think about consequences and think that everything will turn out great.'"

This is not to be confused with optimism or naïveté.  The American Vice of Entitlement is marked by hoarding of attention, seeking of sympathy (often in the form of pity) and an incessant desire for exceptional classification in both positive and negative superlatives.  Perhaps you've heard phrases like "Just be glad you don't have it as bad as I do…"-- a parry-and-thrust phrase of one-upmanship wherein two people seek a pathetic designation as "the one who has it the worst."  What kind of sorry goals are we holding?  We seem to crave attention and reward more fervently than spoiled bratty children. 

I have personally observed this behavior at all levels of education and employment.  It is a ubiquitous trend of constant complaining, bragging, truth-stretching and selfish insecurity that seeks to seduce people into a complacent apathy content with doing just enough to get away with it all.  I just hope it isn't permanent.

Move if u wanna if u wanna move move...

This past weekend Bobby "Kitten" Martinez, Joshular Thumbson, Gorgeous Jorge and I sweated and huffed and puffed to transport a bazillion pounds of belongings from Riverside to North Campus.  This was all done on behalf of the lovely Caelie J. Dunn-- aka Charlene, Lady Charles, Caels, Callie etc.

In a masochistic weird way, I enjoy doing grunt work to help people.  But this was even more fun because of all the characters I enlisted to help.  Imagine your favorite cartoon…and then get back to reading this post. 

Bobby and I had an awesome time getting couch-blocked by three different thrift stores: Goodwill, Salvation Army, and St. Vincent de Paul.  Goodwill said they couldn't sanitize the mattress in the sofa bed…FAIL! (though I should've just pretended like it was a regular couch.) 

The snobbish clerk pointed us to The Salvation Army, who acted like they were gonna take it, but "Nah man, see these worn parts, we ain't gon' be able to sell this."  But apparently, Goodwill referrals are common: "They always be doin' us like that." FAIL X 2!!

"Okay, one more try…" we thought.  NHOMBRE!  Saturday May 23rd decided to pwn the couch mission-- construction only in front of the entrance to St. V de P.  EPIC FAILURE!!!

We came back to the apartment and tossed the whole, perfectly good, furniture into the dumpster and it stuck straight out.  This was after we lazily briefly looked for a shanty town to furnish.  That was a failure too but since we didn't try our pride could remain severely wounded instead of decimated by the shame of being brushed off by transient superciliousness. 

On the plus side, I humored the "honk for Jesus" sign-people and was convinced that it was really for some vato on the corner looking for someone to give him props. 

 

Memorial Day

I was at once elated with the prospect of a holiday from work.  The last we had was a half-day on Good Friday and before that it was New Years Day….I know right?  But we can never allow the day of barbecue and rest to supplant the significance of the day. 

While watching a national PBS concert honoring lost and wounded veterans, I was thoroughly moved by the awesome power of war and how that theme has shaped our national identity.  A die-hard commitment to the core principles of the Constitution is manifest in the vast casualties in our short history.  Giving one's life, or at least volunteering for a strong possibility of it, is the highest possible level of personal commitment to a cause.  The budding principles of freedom and equality are blooming before our eyes and our collective belief in these abstract words carries an enormous pricetag: human life.

Our national history is framed by battles with other nations: for independence x2, for land, and to preserve our interests abroad.  We've fought each other over economic means.  We’ve fought to quash "threats" and "preserve democracy abroad."  All of these man-made concepts have cost us thousands of lives and I posit that from this we derive an identity of standing up for what we want or what we think is right.

I think this is something of which to be proud-- this assertive, principled identity-- but we must remain ever mindful of the invaluable worth of human life.  It is part of our Enlightened national philosophy and it seems as though we have become comfortable with valuing some lives as "expendable".  It is part of that for which we should stand up. 

On this PBS program,  wounded soldiers were shown with caved-in skulls and completely reconstructed faces.  There were soldiers with no limbs, vegetated brains and many other life-dominating ailments.  Those lives, and the lives of their families and friends, are greatly impacted by these injuries.  I admire those men and women for holding steadfast to their commitment-- for suffering the consequences of war for the country they love and not renouncing it.  It is more than I think we could expect of anyone in their position.

We should never go to war on a whim…if just one life is blasted or taken in the process, it had better be a good reason and it had better be justified.  Once congressional investigations-- predominantly called for by Sen. Patrick Leahy-- reveal the poorly reasoned, planned, and executed manners of this war, I think we should look to those responsible and ask "Was it worth it?"

Vigilante Justice?

Last Monday, my family discovered that one of our vehicles had been broken into and the Alpine head-unit had been completely removed. The car was parked high up on our driveway and near the entrance to our house—the stereo was most likely not visible from the street.

Almost two years prior, thieves stole a subwoofer box, complete with two 12” Rockford Fosgate speakers, right out of the trunk of the same vehicle. The contents of the trunk were strewn across the yard in a truly harrowing manner. Far worse than the obvious loss of property is the feeling that nothing is safe. Somehow these scum knew these things were in the car and knew when we were vulnerable enough for them to help themselves to our property.

That stereo, of which the head-unit and subwoofer box were a part, was probably the first significant purchase I made myself from working my first job. As you can imagine, it was almost all of my wages at the measly rate I was paid then. I’m not exactly ballin’ now though, either.

Crime in our area has been an growing issue and the police department has responded favorably: more cops on patrol, communication with the neighborhood, etc. They have made numerous busts of transient campsites and money/drug changing houses. You have to understand that I live slightly east of I-35—the crime level is relative, I suppose. It’s my childhood house and I really would hate to feel unsafe in a place that is so fundamental to my upbringing and overall disposition.

But what to do? Police report was filed, fingerprints taken, but there’s just not any real probability of catching the offenders. As much as I hate the idea of them being able to peruse our yard for anything they’d like, we can only be so careful. To a certain extent, wrongdoers like these individuals can instill fear and anxiety—and they’ve succeeded. All this fosters feelings of hopelessness about my family’s safety.

We don’t own any firearms, nor do we have a security system. I imagine my parents would be averse to the latter because of the sheer nuisance, but perhaps my shining moment of oral persuasion will be convincing them of its worth.

I’ve thought about a weapon—perhaps some sort of easy one-stopper sort of deal, but I will only be with my parents for a few more months. My Dad is having back surgery soon and I am worried that the effectiveness of that instrument of lethal force would be not worth the risk if I’m not there.

Any suggestions? Furthermore, who among you thinks you could deal death to intruders to your house. Would you consider legal implications (remember Texas is a “yee-haw” sort of state…)?

Admitted Students Weekend

This past weekend, starting thursday, I attended quite a few events associated with my transition into law school.

• I attended Sen. Ellis' Minority Students Admitted to UT Law reception at the capitol, with various foods. I was thoroughly impressed-- not with the food mind you, but rather with the star-studded cast making their pitch to the us, the attendees. I saw Texas Supreme Court Chief Justice Wallace Jefferson (aka Barack Obama), various other judges, representatives, senators, law faculty, Dean Larry Sager, and UT President Bill Powers. This was all in a small group setting so it was that much more impressive.
• Admitted Students Day was a repretitive exercise in retelling the information I gleaned from UT@UT Law. The more meaningful things were meeting some interesting future classmates and hearing some people talk (i.e. Sager and Sokolow)
• Met some cool friends at these events, hopefully I can find and keep them in the fall (Marcus, Arizona David and David Armandariz)
• I found out much more about the organization CHLSA and its great opportunities and people. I love it's community centered approach and family oriented structure. I look forward to being a part of this organization. They had a baller banquet and I learned about their awesome events.

All in all, law school is increasingly exciting and I was to just get started already.

You Fixin to Hoop?

Those of you who know me in the least bit are well aware of my love for playing pickup basketball. I decided that even IM/tournament hoops fall short of the grandeur of the open play. I conceded long ago that I would have and would've had more time for many things, namely studying, if I didn't spend an average of 3 hours a day playing ball.

That is not the case so much anymore, but no longer do I feel like that time spent was me indulging a hobby of sorts. It has proven to be a valuable social asset. From basketball I have met and and nourished many friendships that have lasted by sheer virtue of a shared experience.

I didn't play much in high school, but as soon as I was allowed access to GRE I couldn't keep myself away-- before and after classes, at night, and shoot-around sessions in the mornings.

I've grown closer with friends I already had and met and met countless others I've recognized everywhere--downtown austin, the capitol, houston, vegas...

This was all fun but now it has started to become more useful academically and professionally. As I embark on this journey into law school, I have encountered a veritable network of fatefully placed hardwood companions before and beside me. At the Ellis Minority Admitted Students' reception, I saw my fellow player Ed Gardea--I've also played quite a bit with his father. I also saw Rep. Armando Walle who immediately started talking about playing ball. Love it.

I've known a few players who happened to be in law school... Derek __?__ who now works at the Federal Courthouse and 3L tall guy who talked to me during admitted students day-- should've got his name...but then again, the common experience really is what defines the "relationship". I'm sure I'll play with him again.

I hope I am able to share that interest with many more people, and know them increasingly outside of the court.

Thanks to all of you who play, keep it alive.

Hovey Dent, Atty at Law?

So far I've put off writing blog entries in an attempt to refrain from blabbing about fleeting sentiments. I suppose in this respect I am using this as more of a publishing medium than any sort of venting mechanism. That being said, I'd like to spout off about some recent revelations I've had.

Through not so subtle comments from my parents, namely my disillusioned mother, I have begun to realize the gravity of the next stage in my life. I was [finally] accepted to UT Law and will matriculate in the fall-- despite my parents highly advanced (at least in my mind) education, there is now a splitting of paths, so to speak. Whereas they each achieved doctorates and multiple masters degrees, there is no JD gene in my lineage. No longer have they "been there, done that"...I'm on my own now. I have a cousin who is an attorney in California, but I'm not sure I've ever met him...if I have I don't remember (did he have a ponytail?).

My identity is inescapably tied to my family and heritage. Despite being thoroughly educated, my parents have equally significant experience picking cotton and produce under the hot sun around the country. (By way of contrast to the current state of affairs, many migrant farmworkers like my parents were American citizens with their rights dismissed by a biggoted economy-- they were not Mexican citizens in the least).

Not including a few outliers, the fact of the matter is that my family is not wealthy, and as such, has limited access to opportunities historically denied to CITIZENS based on unchangeable attributes. Access can be changed, however, and because of this I am very grateful for programs designed to offset the unfair rigor of the offset class system. I'll save a defense of such programs for another entry.

This afternoon I'll be attending "Texas State Senator Rodney Ellis' reception honoring UT Law Admitted minority students." I nearly flipped my desk at the opportunity! The good-ol-boy system of patronage has finally been extended to include non "good old boys." Now, despite my utter jubilee over what this sort of event means, I nevertheless began to realize what else it means...what being increasingly included in a privileged class of society [I mean this to be appreciative, not boastful or presumptuous] signifies to those people I'm not taking with me to the other side with supposedly greener grass.

In many images in art and popular culture, we see success among minorities viewed as a sort of "selling out". Characters often become lawyers, play patsy to white superiors, and marry blonde spouses. I'll spare you, reader, of the rantings of my senior thesis: The Elusiveness of Quienes Somos: Idiosynchrasies of Mexican-American Identity in the 20th Century. Damn, even the title is a rant. I am, however, still confronted with the question: have I finally reached the point where my career or education would prompt assumptions about my own "authenticity" or "loyalty" to my brown skin?

First of all, it doesn't wash off. Whoopi Goldberg was famous for her recollections of trying to wash the black off her skin--to no avail, of course. Similarly, the history and culture in which my soul is thoroughly saturated will not simply disappear because I take some classes or make more money. I will always be how I am, and I pray that I am never compelled to renounce or deny any of it for professional gain. It would be truly unfortunate for the person looking to put me in such a position and themselves in one much more precarious.

I grew up with poor parents, and thanks to Him they were graced with minds and work ethics to achieve astounding levels of education. But this education did not equate to unfettered opportunities or levels of pay. As such, it did not shatter the rigor of class-based exclusion...not even for my immediate family. We used to eat meals that seemed to undergo some sort of metamorphosis after they arrived from the food pantry. My parents have truly come a long way. I hope I can achieve some pathetic semblance of their great strides.

There are those, shall we say "haters" (apparently some sort of colloquialism) who aim to detract from such strides. They make claims of inauthenticity and abandonment, as if a newly acquired subsumption into a higher tax bracket invalidates the way in which they know me. There are those who DO abandon their selves in favor of a mainstream identity-- that is their choice, but I cannot justify that to myself. I will always be Javi and none of you should worry about losing me to any other "preferred" group. My friends will always be my friends, my skin will always be brown, and my heart where it presently sits. fin.