Author: Peter Martuneac

Review: Black Sails

/ Peter Martuneac / 1 Comment

I started watching Black Sails back when it debuted in 2014. I had just been honorably discharged from the military and was living with my parents for a few months as I waited for college to start in the fall. I stumbled upon this show because my parents had a free trial for Starz and was immediately hooked by the premise of the golden age of piracy.

Then college started and, while I enjoyed the first season of Black Sails, it wasn’t enough to convince me to get a Starz subscription when Season 2 was released the following year.

Thankfully, the show found its way to Netflix. After a full decade, I was finally able to finish this rousing pirate tale.

As I mentioned in my previous blog post, even the opening credits are a treat to watch. The animation is done well, the musical score compels you to tap your foot along to the beat, and it leaves subtle cues as to the overarching themes of the show: anarchy vs civilization, the deadly power of the ocean, greed, love, and multiple sorts of honor.

You can watch the opening credits here. Even if you have no desire to watch the show, this sequence really is cool and you should enjoy the music.

The main plotline follows the fictional Captain James Flint, the same Captain Flint from Treasure Island, as he chases an impossible prey: the Urca de Lima, a Spanish treasure galleon. The plot eventually widens and thickens as the show rolls along, but this is the general thrust of it.

Along for the ride is a colorful mix of pirates fictional and real: Charles Vane, ‘Calico’ Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny, Billy Bones, and many, many more. Nassau, a large port town on New Providence Island serves as their home base from which a wealthy yet disgraced English merchant family, the Guthries, fence their stolen goods.

As is typical for these types of shows, early on there is gratuitous nudity, sex, and gore. I’ve noticed a trend, however, that such shows use the nudity and violence to draw in the crowd who enjoys that and will eventually taper off. I might be mistaken, but the final season of Black Sails had almost no nudity at all.

So if you’re like me and would rather the show dispense with the fan-service and get back to the plot, you can rest assured that after the first few episodes the show gets much better in this regard.

I also want to note that the casting was sublime. Every character felt fully fleshed out thanks, in part, to a solid script but mostly to the wonderful performances of the actors. Australian actor Luke Arnold deserves special praise as ‘Long John’ Silver, and the late Ray Stevenson brought the menacing, legendary Black Beard to life.

Overall, Black Sails was probably the best show I’ve watched since AMC’s Hell on Wheels. It’s stuffed to the gills with historical pirates and pirate-hunters, and it tells of a swashbuckling adventure with memorable characters, devious villains, epic naval battles, and an elusive horde of Spanish gold.

If you have a Netflix account and even a passing interest in pirate tales, I highly recommend it. The only negatives to the show are the aforementioned overindulgence of nudity and violence, which eventually tapers off. Other than that it gets a perfect score from me.

Review: ‘Those About to Die’

/ Peter Martuneac / 2 Comments

After the American Civil War, the Roman empire is probably the time and place of history in which I’m best informed. I’ve done a lot of reading over the years about the Caesars and their empire, and I’ll consume just about any media that is set in Rome. Ridley Scotts’ 2004 epic ‘Gladiator’ is still one of my all-time favorite movies. Playing ‘Rome: Total War’ on my parents’ computer took up countless hours of my childhood.

So when NBC’s Peacock streaming service released a new show focusing on Roman gladiators called ‘Those About to Die’, you better bet I started watching the very day it was released. I now wish I hadn’t.

After forcing myself to watch all ten episodes of the first season (a second season is clearly planned, though I hope it never sees the light of day), I’m ready to give my review.

My disappointment in the series was immediate, as soon as the opening credits rolled. I love a good opening credits sequence. I recently watched Starz’s pirate-themed series ‘Black Sails’ (my review for that to come soon) and the intro was so good that I let it play out in almost every episode. The music was catchy and embraced the high-seas pirate spirit, the animation was excellent, and it displayed the themes of anarchy, treachery, and constant threat of death in a pleasing, subtle manner.

Not so in ‘Those About to Die’. Here my eyes were assaulted by a garish, gaudy ocean of crimson blood washing through and around a pristine marble city. The music a generic clashing of dissonant sounds, a genuine cacophony. The CGI for this sequence was terrible and it was so on-the-nose as to be insulting. I immediately lowered my expectations for the entire show and was soon proven right.

Name a flaw and this show has it. Ham-fisted exposition. Predictable plot twists. Unlikeable protagonists encased in ten feet of plot armor. Shoddy acting. The plot being pulled along by forced events rather than flowing forward like a river. Worst of all, a total lack of historical accuracy. By the end of Episode 10 I was rooting for everyone but the Northman to die. I knew of course that wouldn’t happen but I wished it all the same. Not one character grew on me or felt genuine.

I won’t even get into the absurd amounts of gore and sex because I think I’ve already done a decent job convincing you, the reader, to skip this show. Suffice it to say that, even for a show about gladiators and chariot racers, the violence felt way over the top and perhaps just one, two at most, of the many sex scenes was necessary to the plot.

Despite the horrendous music in the opening credits, the musical score throughout the series was actually good, even excellent. As for everything else about this show, let’s just say that I envied the man in the opening scene whose throat was cut. At least his suffering ended quickly.

Film Review: 1917

/ Peter Martuneac / 5 Comments

I don’t typically watch war movies these days. Since having participated in a war myself, such films have lost their sheen for me. I do make exceptions, however. I watched “12 Strong” because it’s probably the only blockbuster film about my war to be made and now I’ve seen the 2019 film “1917”.

This film, as you can probably guess from the title, is set during The Great War, aka World War I. There are just two main characters, two young British soldiers, Lance Corporals William Schofield and Thomas Blake, tasked with an impossible mission: carry a message across no-man’s-land, passing close to a German-occupied town, to a division that is about to stumble into a trap. A simple premise that is done beautifully.

Everything about this film was done well. The accompanying musical score directed by Thomas Newman was a perfect match, at times haunting and other times inspiring. There is also an a capelle rendition of the classic folk song “I am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger” towards the end, sung by a soldier to his silent comrades, that left me at a loss for words.

George Mackay and Dean-Charles Chapman are excellent in the roles as Schofield and Blake. They truly captured the spirit of two young men who daily live in fear of death but put a brave face over it, whether that be through humors, letters from home, or allowing themselves to be fully immersed in their work.

Benedict Cumberbatch also appears in the film briefly as Colonel Mackenzie. Though he is only on the screen for about two minutes, he runs away with the scene. It’s remarkable when an actor can suck the air out of the room in which the audience sits, even in a supporting role.

What truly elevated this film, however, is the manner in which it’s shot. There are no scene breaks, no POV changes, and no cuts. The film is a continuous, running shot. The effect of this method is astounding and a wholly new experience. Just one example, as Schofield and Blake approach a seemingly abandoned country house during their mission, they decide they must check the house for enemies.

In any other movie, here there would likely be a scene change, cutting to the young Lance Corporals suddenly on the porch of the house or kicking in the front door. Not in 1917. Here, once Schofield and Blake decide to advance on the house, you follow them literally every step of the way. Down the hill, around the pond, up the bank, and then over to the porch. It’s only about 18 seconds, but it’s 18 seconds of filming you would never see in an ordinary film.

Suffice it to say, I was fully immersed in this film. It takes you right down to the ground of a brutal land war, giving you a grunt’s-eye-view. There’s not too much violence in it; there’s a scene of somewhat unsavory hand-to-hand combat, but it takes place during the night and in a shadowed corner, sparing the viewer anything too gruesome.

And, of course, there is heart-wrenching loss. It’s painful to watch and impossible not to shed a tear.

As with other war movies, I will not watch this one again, but I’m very glad I saw it once. I highly recommend it to anyone who appreciates a new cinematic experience.

Book Review: “For the Sins of my Father” by Albert DeMeo

/ Peter Martuneac / 4 Comments

In the course of my deep dive into the history of the American Mafia, one particularly infamous member of the Mafia drew my attention: Roy DeMeo. A notorious hitman loyal to Paul Castellano, he and his crew are suspected of as many as 200 murders. They became so proficient at murdering victims and disposing of bodies that their modus operandi became known as ‘the Gemini Method’, named after the lounge that served as their headquarters.

As it turns out, DeMeo had a son and he has written a book about life with his father. He never tries to excuse his father’s actions or deny who he was. His goal with his book is to simply give the second side of the story. Yes, Roy DeMeo was a monster but, in the author’s words, for 23 hours out of every day, he was a loving father who took care of his family.

The early scenes of the book were the most interesting to me. Albert recounts how, as a young boy, he knew that everyone seemed to admire and respect his father, yet he had no idea what his dad did for a living. He carried a gun but wasn’t a cop. He carried lots of cash around but wasn’t a banker. He did know that his father owned a car dealership but was never there. So that was the story he told whenever some kid or teacher asked what his father did.

As he got to about 8 years old, Albert’s father made no effort to hide his vocation from his only son. Roy was grooming his son to follow his same path one day. This also struck me as interesting as in other books I’ve read about the Mafia, it seems there’s a bit of a split over whether children should be brought up into the ‘Family’. Some mafiosi don’t want their children living the same dangerous lifestyle as them while others believe that to not bring your children into the life of crime is a tacit admission that what they are doing is wrong and unacceptable.

Albert recounts two particular stories that clearly scarred him more than others. In one, as a ten year old he was relaxing with his father and his friends at one of their safehouses. His father left a revolver on the table next to Albert and walked into the next room. Suddenly a masked man burst into the apartment with a gun and pointed it at one of Roy’s friends. Terrified and confused, Albert snatched up the revolver, aimed at the intruder, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

The gun was empty. The intruder pulled off a mask to reveal himself as one of Roy’s friends. His father had set the whole thing up, staging a break in and leaving an unloaded gun with his ten year old son to see if he’d do the ‘right’ thing, that is to pull the trigger on somebody. Roy and the crew cheered for Albert, but Albert recounts how violently sick he felt.

The second formative event came later as an older teenager. His father would occasionally send him to collect money he was owed from some of his illicit business partners. One was a brothel, one that catered to particularly sick, sordid customers. Without getting into details, Albert recounts how the smells and sights of that building have stuck with him his entire life. When he finally got out with the money, he ran home, threw his clothes into the trash, and sat in the shower just crying.

For the Sins of my Father is a tough read at times. As both a son and father myself it’s horrifying to put myself into Albert’s shoes. I can’t even imagine growing up in such a lifestyle, nor could I imagine sending my son into such despicable places, putting him through diabolical tests of loyalty.

Eventually, Roy DeMeo is gunned down. After he and his crew caught too much heat from law enforcement, it was decided by the Commission that Roy needed to be ‘whacked’. According to Albert, his father knew it was coming and went willingly to a meeting that he knew would end with his murder. It’s impossible to know how true that is, but it’s what Albert believes.

The last 30% of the book or so is how Albert’s life spiraled out of control after his father’s death. Despite everything he knew about Roy’s criminal business, he loved the man and the man loved him. If only half of what Albert says is true, then Roy DeMeo was certainly a good father in terms of providing for and showing love to his children. Things got worse and worse for Albert until he eventually attempted suicide, more than once.

Mercifully, he finally found the strength to get help for himself and by all accounts is now leading a normal, healthy life.

All in all, I’m glad I read this book. For all the outsider perspectives and opinions about the Mafia that I’ve consumed, getting an insider’s glimpse was both fascinating and heartbreaking. I can recommend it to anyone with an interest in the American Mafia or the life of crime in general.

Book Review: The Five Families by Selwyn Raab

/ Peter Martuneac / 5 Comments

Longtime readers of this blog may know that I’m something of a history buff. The thing about me, though, is that I don’t want to be an expert on just one thing or one field. I want to know everything. Literally every topic, area, or time period of human history, I want to know about it. I will say that the US Civil War is probably my area of expertise but even then there’s so much more that I could read about that conflict.

Instead, I tend to roam the historical wilds. I look to my left and right and whatever catches my eye, that’s the direction I go. Around last November, it was the American Mafia that consumed my attention. I watched that ‘Gotti’ special on Netflix, then ‘Fear City: New York vs the Mob’, and finally “The Irishman”, a historical fiction film about the Mafia produced and directed by Martin Scorsese.

After all this viewing, I decided I also wanted to read a book about all that. I can’t speak for everyone, but I feel like I can only gain so much knowledge from the TV medium. Reading about something, seeing physical words on the page, helps me retain knowledge much better. So, I went straight to one of the authorities on the American Mafia: Selwyn Raab. Raab is a reporter who has covered the mafia for decades for The New York Times and is considered a living legend among people who have taken on the mob.

It was a fascinating book, and the 800 pages seemed to fly by. Raab rights about a serious topic with the flare and panache of the best novelists. He puts you in the jury box as mob lawyers and public servants wage war in the courtroom. He places you at the scenes of the most heinous murders imaginable, like when mob boss Albert Anastasia was shot to death as he reclined in a barber’s chair with a towel over his face, or when Dutch Schultz murdered his closest lieutenant by encasing his feet in cement and dropping him into the East River. He shows you the backroom business deals and how easily labor unions become huge money-making rackets for the Mafia.

The history in this book spans well over a century, from the birth of the Sicilian mafia in the mid-19th century, its emigration into America following the crackdowns by Benito Mussolini, the mob’s golden age in the New World, and finally with its seeming downfall in the late 90’s and early 2000’s.

I say ‘seeming’ because the mob unfortunately is on the rise again, according to Raab. Many politicians, law enforcement agencies, and investigators believed that the conviction of John Gotti, followed by a few other high-profile indictments, had permanently chopped the head off the snake, and for a while they were right. They had the mob on the ropes, but the mob gained a reprieve in 2001. After the September 11th terror attacks, everyone forgot about the mob. All the time, money, and assets that the FBI and other agencies had in place to catch gangsters was reassigned to tracking down Al-Qaeda operatives.

The Mafia saw their opportunity and took it, and Raab fears that they are as strong as ever, especially with the new revenue streams they’ve gained through the internet and sports gambling.

If you want to learn more about the American Mafia, I can point you to no finer source than The Five Families by Selwyn Raab. It’s a hefty tome, make no mistake about that, but it’s size should only make it more enticing.