March of the Deep-Throated Penguins. In Wheelchairs.

This is a Comfy Chair Hodgepodge Review.

For I've seen a few movies lately that I've been wanting to comment on, and I haven't had the time, space, strength, nor intelligence to do so. I now have all of those, well, all except one, and I'll let you guess which one, but I fear after you read me it will have become all too apparent which one it actually is.

A couple of Fridays ago, I watched "Inside Deep Throat." I'd been wanting to see this movie since I first heard about it, during its theatrical release, and no, it wasn't for why you may think. Really. It wasn't. It was not a high-class excuse to see pee-pees and wee-wees. And no, it wasn't because I was such a fan of the original "Deep Throat," because I promise you I've never seen it. And I know you don't believe me there either, but I swear to you on my stack of Alan Arkin movies it is true.

I wanted to see it because, well, first, because it's a documentary, and as a general rule I love documentaries. Documentaries rock. (But gently.) But also I wanted to see it because I can remember "Deep Throat," or at least all the hoopla that surrounded it.

I was but a podlet in 1972, and I can remember all kinds of news stories, jokes, and discussions concerning this movie "Deep Throat." Now, being 12 - and believe me, folks, I was a naive 12 - I didn't really know anything at all about this whole "Deep Throat" brouhaha, except I knew that it must be dirty, because it was what everyone's parents talked about when the kids went down in the basement to play checkers. And then one of us would come up for a glass of water and all conversation would cease, leaving Mrs D red-faced and Mr and Mrs Y still giggling.

But here's the thing. Until I actually saw "Inside DT" (I've used the phrase "Deep Throat" way too many times already, and fear the porn surfers will be rampant on my nedstat now), I didn't know what the damn movie was actually about. I mean, I knew, you know, but I didn't know. I just thought it was about a woman who was very adept at a certain skill, and I don't mean giving people down the road. I had no idea there was that other throaty issue involved. So I guess I'm a naive 45-year old as well.

And I enjoyed the movie, well, the first 2/3 of it, anyway. It started out giving a really good feeling of the early 70s, and it had interviews with those involved, except Linda L, of course, who was a very mixed-up lady indeed, and she died several years ago. But one of the interviewees was a guy named, I kid you not, Larry Camp, and his interviews were hilarious, especially the way they were interspersed with the folks who were talking about the landmark event that "DT" was. (All his comments were along the lines of, "It was crap." "It was shit." "He was the worst actor in the history of acting.")

And it was a real trip seeing the 7.0 version of Harry Reems, who's aged very well, and was quite candid in talking about his role in the film even though he's now a born-again Christian real estate salesman living in Utah. And can't you just imagine that. I mean, does this man ever use the phrase, "And now let me show you to the bedroom" without a houseful of snickers? I also had no idea that our Harry came perilously close to going to jail for his fun and frolic in "DT." And that's kind of scary when you think about it, isn't it?

And there's also a series of interviews with an old guy who was a distributor of the film, whose wife sits in the background bitching at him for doing the interview. That alone is probably worth the price of a rental.

Sadly, though, the film has a major steam runout with a third left to go. When they start talking about whether or not the mob was involved in the financing and distributing, all the fun and frivolity and showing of pee-pees and wee-wees (though I didn't watch it for that reason, remember) comes to a grinding halt.

And so that gives me the perfect opportunity to print my capsule review of "Inside Deep Throat." It prematurely ejaculates. You saw that coming down Main Street with a hat on, didn't you?

Over the weekend I got to see another documentary I've been yearning to view, "March of the Penguins." Only good stuff had I heard about this one, and let's face it, people, it's about penguins! How can you go wrong with that? And the short answer to that is, "You can't." I liked "March of the Penguins."

This one, of course, tells the story of the life of the Emperor Penguin. Which is basically walk, walk, walk, mate, walk, walk, walk, lay an egg, walk, walk, walk, hatch an egg, walk, walk, walk, feed the baby, walk, walk, walk, raise the baby, and walk, walk, walk. These penguins are serious walkers, man.

But it all works, mainly because the penguins are so damn cute, and because somehow you really get involved in these penguins' lives. It has, and I swear to you this is true, the saddest scene in cinematic history about a couple losing their baby, and speaking of babies, the first time a baby penguin shows its face in this movie it's so adorable I screamed a scream of pure ecstasy. "It's a bay-beeeee!"

There's also a milisecond of action that's probably given me the biggest belly-laugh at the movies this year. One of the walking penguins slides and falls onto its ass. Low-brow humor, I have, but I still giggle just thinking about it.

I had lots of questions during the film, the main one being, why don't these web-footed little bastards just live nearer the water instead of walking 70 miles every time they get hungry, but towards the end of the film I finally figured that out, and I must admit that the credits put a little damper on things for me by showing the camera crews doing some of their filming. Because the photography is so nice and intricate I spent a great deal of time wondering how they did it, and finally decided they did it by dressing up the cameramen as Emperor Penguins and integrating them into the flock. Which was a nice idea to think about, especially when I started thinking that if they actually did that, at least one of the cameramen would probably have been mated.

But here's what I want from the "March of the Penguins" people. I want a companion film. And this film would be the exact film I saw, only minus Morgan Freeman's narration and plus people reading dialogue that would be spoken by actors as the penguins. That would be a damn fine film, and I'd be the first in line to see it. And I'm just waiting for the scene where that one penguin falls on its ass and says, "Ohhh ... shit." Then gets back up and starts walking.

Two thumbs up, fine holiday fun.

Last night it was documentary #3 in the Betland Non-Fiction Filmfest. "Murderball." I saw Ebert and The Other Guy review this one a while back and something struck me as interesting about it then, though I couldn't tell you what it was, and I decided to give it a try.

"Murderball" tells the story of Quadriplegic Wheelchair Rugby, which is also called Murderball, and is basically a sport wherein men roll around in wheelchairs and beat the ever-loving snot out of one another. It's a fascinating sport and no mistake.

But more fascinating are the men who play it. We meet them, well, Team USA anyway, up close and personal, and they're all intense, engaging, funny, and some of them are cuter than hell. We also meet the coach of Team Canada, who used to play for Team USA but got cut and went all Benedict Arnold on our asses. And the movie follows a timeline leading up to, then reaching, the meeting of the two teams at the 2004 Paralympics.

Now, you may go into "Murderball" with the same mindset I did. You know, I just normally break up when I see people in wheelchairs anyway, and I was expecting this to be a sentimental tear-fest about the disabled pushing themselves to the limit in celebration of sport. And it is about that, but don't buy any Kleenex, because there's nothing sentimental here about the story or the guys in it. In fact, I don't think anything will change your attitudes about folks in chairs like this film will.

The Murderballers are all very frank in telling us about their disabilitycaps (since I hate all those terms I just thought I'd meld them together in a big ugly word), in other words, how they came to be in the chairs (it isn't always a spinal cord injury), and how it affects their lives. And we see them living those lives just fine, thank you, without any help from us.

Oh, there's an added bonus in their frankness as well. They have no qualms whatsoever in telling us about the sex lives of maniac quadriplegics. Apparently just because the legs don't work, well, that doesn't mean everything below the waist is gone. And call it sexist if you want, and it may be, but I couldn't help giggling along with these guys when they talked about the relative ease of getting laid when you're a cute guy in a wheelchair. To paraphrase one guy, "I'll be as pitiful as it takes to get them hooked."

However, along with these rough and rowdies, we're also introduced to Keith, who was proabably also a rough and rowdy, at least up until the motocross accident that left him paralyzed. We pick up his story 4 months after the accident. Now, if there's sympathy to be heaped and tears to be cried, you'll do it all for Keith, especially in the scenes where he can't undo his velcro shoes, and when he looks around his brand-new disabilitycapped-accessible apartment and smiles and says, "It sucks." And his family say, "But it's got everything you need!" And Keith replies, to their helpless blank stares, "Yeah, but I'm still in this chair."

And Keith struggles along. Until one day the Murderballers come to his rehab center, and he can't wait to get into one of the balling chairs. And once he's in, they have to force him out. And you know he's going to be OK, too.

They're all OK. And "Murderball" wins the Betland Non-Fiction Filmfest, beating out - or is that beating up? - the Penguins by a wing. "Inside Deep Throat" comes (get it? comes?) limping (get it? limp?) in at a flaccid (get it? flaccid? it's funneeee!) third.

Now, where's my gift-bag?

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Well, my Betland Holiday Spectacular may not end up being so spectacular, seeing as how there are only three entries in it. So what's going to be on your float?
- Honorable Mention goes to LilyG, with her "Flying acrobats, zipping naughtily into roses." That would make an interesting float....
- Runner-up goes to Flipsy, with her "Follywongs and zingleberries, noozlesnogs in rows." Absolutely no idea what it means, but I'm still laughing. Tip of the hat to Dr Seuss!
- And this week's winner goes to someone calling himself Capt A, with his "Fired - Up Atheists Noogying Inebriated Rudolph." Sorry, but I love the idea of fired-up atheists in a holiday parade.
- Actually, I came up with one myself. Fat Assed Zebras, Neighing In Rounds.
- Thanks to all who played!
*Wait! Stop The Presses!*
I've just realized something. The winning acro is a fraud. It's not the correct letters, the "z" was left out. Capt A is not the winner, and the winner becomes Flipsy with her zinglie googly foogly thing.