Remember that old TV show “Happy Days”?

The one starring Henry Winkler as “the Fonz”?

Late in its run, the show featured an episode with Fonzie jumping a shark on water skis (and yes, he was wearing his trademark leather jacket).

Those of you who may have missed this magic moment can now watch it on YouTube – just search for “Fonzie Jumps the Shark.”

In pop culture parlance, the phrase “Jump the Shark” now refers to that moment in the life of a series that marks a low point, signaling the beginning of the end of what used to be a compelling story.

With the fourth installment of Indiana Jones, we have arrived. It’s curtains for Indy, for good. At least, let’s hope so.

How bad is “Kingdom of the Crystal Skull”?

Aside from one very cool scene involving an army of fire ants, it is a stinker, and for so many reasons.

Here are ten.

1. The hero: Harrison Ford is back and older. Ford looks good, but he delivers his lines with all the aplomb of a man who’d rather be practicing carpentry at his Montana getaway home.

2. The damsel: Karen Allen returns as Indy’s former love interest from the original. She, too, looks great – but seems embarrassed to be on screen. Whatever frisson there was between the two characters is gone, replaced by a series of silly one-liners about “coulda woulda shoulda” stuff. Bleah.

3. Son of Indy: Turns out, our couple sired a son, who arrives via motorcycle in the film, and who mostly gets to comb his hair, drive his bike around, and crack stupid one liners. He also wears a leather jacket just like Fonzie. Coincidence? You decide. Where’s a shark when you need one?

4. The villain: The usually-magnificent Cate Blanchett is utterly wasted here as a rapier-wielding Russian diva with a bad haircut and an accent to match. Snoresville.

5. The bad guys: I did say “Russians,” didn’t I? C’mon now, the Cold War’s been over for two decades. Can’t we come up with a more intriguing set of villains to demonize, like the Chinese or maybe some evil Arabs? This is Hollywood’s stock-in-trade, and they blow it badly here.

6. The side-kick: Indy’s old friend Marcus is back for a run, and he swaps sides and allegiances no fewer that four times in the film, with absolutely no explanation as to why. Get the bullwhip!

7. The bull whip: Speaking of Indy’s signature weapon, you can count on one hand the number of times it gets cracked, mostly in the first ten minutes of the film. Lame.

8. The plot: Plot?

9. The space aliens: I kid you not. “Close Encounters,” anyone?

10. The waterfall: Three falls, three plunges, three opportunities to do something interesting. Um, nope.

I could go on, but space does not allow me to. Let’s hope that everyone involved in this travesty water skis away from any possibility of making a fifth installment as quickly as possible. In the meantime, if you’ve already seen “Crystal Dull,” I suggest renting the original “Raiders of the Lost Ark” film immediately, to remind yourself just how fun Indiana Jones used to be.

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Once upon a time Walden Media teamed up with Disney to make a film version of C.S. Lewis’ classic children’s tale: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Despite this cumbersome title, the film quickly became Walden Media’s biggest grossing movie of all time.

And if there is anything Hollywood likes, it is a good sequel, especially when there’s money to make.

Now, the four Pevensie kids are back in The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian, the second installment in director Andrew Adamson’s attempt to recast the Narnia stories as “Lord of the Rings lite” for a slightly younger audience. The film is long, clocking in at 145 minutes, and bereft of anything but the barest whisper of a plot, so, for those of who care about such things, let’s quickly review the storyline.

In Narnia, 1,300 years have passed since Peter (a dour William Moseley), Susan (a full-lipped Anna Popplewell), Edmund (a pragmatic Skandar Keynes) and Lucy (the ever-sprightly Georgie Henley) left Cair Paravel and their four thrones behind. Yanked in full dress school uniforms from a London tube station, the four arrive back in Narnia to discover that the land now lies under the control of the Telmarines, led by the evil Miraz (Sergio Castellitto), who has murdered the uncle of young Prince Caspian (a well-coiffed Ben Barnes) and usurped the throne. Aslan (voiced by Liam Neeson) and the White Witch (the deliciously scary Tilda Swinton) make (too?) brief appearances.

But the film really belongs to two major actors. One is the New Zealand landscape, which steals the show from the opening minutes. “Lord of the Rings” director Peter Jackson thrice put “down under” on the map as visual spectacle, and director Adamson follows Jackson’s lead, with an opening scene at Cathedral Cove that is simply breath-taking, and forest and landscape shots that make you want to call your travel agent immediately.

The other group celebrated here are the various centaurs, badgers, giants, and other creatures of the forest who spring to Caspian’s aid. The dwarf actor Peter Dinklage (last seen as the gay lover in Death at a Funeral) does dour due diligence as Trumpkin, and Reepicheep (voiced by Eddie Izzard), the swashbuckling rodent of Lewis’ invention, dominates the screen as a sort of “Puss In Boots” meets “Ratatouille” ur-sidekick, but he’s not on the screen enough to matter much.

And here’s the odd thing about this film. Strangely, the human actors are almost incidental, relegated to running through the forest and engaging on one battle scene after another, to the point where the whole story starts to blur. There is the barest quiver of frisson between Susan and Caspian, but mostly she spends her time launching arrows at the enemy, while the tension between High King Peter and Prince Caspian fizzles almost as soon as it gets started. Aslan appears long enough to deliver a small helping spiritual advice to Lucy – “things never happen the same way twice” (or something like that) – and drown the Telmarines, Moses-like, in a nearby river (with the help of a CGI-driven Neptune-like creature).

Maybe I’m getting old, but I’d like to think that a film based on one of the most popular children’s series of all time might have a bit more depth and complexity. Or maybe I should just give in to the mindlessness that makes up the summer blockbuster movie season and enjoy the ride. Go see it and give me some advice.

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Eating Oil: “The War On Bugs” Sounds A “Pharm Alarm” About the Toxic History of American Agriculture

Read more about this book at www.chelseagreen.com

East Thetford, Vermont’s Will Allen of Cedar Circle Farm is no ordinary tiller of the soil. The former marine, jailed for anti-war protests during the Vietnam Era, also possesses a Ph.D. in Anthropology, a long track record as a citizen/activist, and now, a new book brilliantly entitled The War On Bugs. Allen’s story is a remarkable expose, ten years in the making, that highlights the often-sordid relationship among what might be awkwardly termed “corporate agricultural interests,” Madison Avenue, and the U.S. Empire’s military/industrial complex. Let’s collectively call this trio “Big Pharm.”

As always, history is a useful starting place. In his Pulitzer Prize-winning book Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies, author Jared Diamond coined the term “farmer power” to describe the dramatic increase in land productivity (and economic and political might) that emerged with the Neolithic Revolution in agriculture roughly 10,000 years ago, a series of processes that gave us the very best and worst of human civilization. Allen’s analysis in “The War on Bugs” charts the arrival of a second agricultural revolution, which began around the time of the so-called American “Civil War” during the 1860s, when U.S.-based chemical companies declared war on two scourges: bugs of every description, and declining soil fertility.

Allen’s great strength lies in combining short and pithy analytical vignettes detailing the various tools and tactics used by an evolving “Big Pharm” industry with a cornucopia of visual material. Each chapter features fascinating historical reproductions harvested from a wide range of U.S. media – newspaper articles, old editorials from farm journals, pseudo-scientific testimonials bought and paid for by Big Pharm interests, and, of course, ever-ubiquitous advertisements (including some early head—turning work by Theodore Geisel - a.k.a. Dr. Seuss - who was employed by the chemical industry early in his career to sell Pharm toxins to an unsuspecting U.S. public. Who knew?).

What makes Allen’s work so vital is his exploration of the historical and cultural intersections among a variety of forces: Madison Avenue media marketing, science, corporate power and, most importantly, the process of “farming” itself, a complex and rigorous activity so full of mistaken mythological holes within the fabric of U.S. history that you can drive a John Deere combine harvester through it. Simply stated, farming is incredibly hard work, made more so by forces way beyond the control of individual farmers –weather, crop prices, and the price of fuel – to name but three. The great genius of Big Pharm interests, and “The War On Bugs” highlights it, comes with their use of what Allen calls a “four part sales model” to get farmers “hooked” on their products. To whit: beginning in the mid-19th century, Big Pharm editorials in various farm journals planted the seeds of interest in new chemical-intensive products and processes; scientific testimonials by so-called “experts” (often citing studies paid for by Big Pharm interests) watered the seeds; saturation advertising by well-funded marketers nurtured interest even further; and finally, farmer testimonials about “Big Pharm” success helped seal the deal.

And, let’s be honest about the results. In one sense, oil/chemical based fertilizers and pesticides ushered in a remarkable era in food productivity during these past 150 years. The only reason why today’s 21st century planet can afford to carry close to 7 billion human inhabitants is because of the so-called “Green Revolution” in agriculture. Literally, as Dale Allen Pfeiffer states, we in the West “eat oil,” as consumers eating in the midst of the most fossil-fuel-intensive agricultural system the world has ever seen. Allen’s book makes it clear that we’ve been “eating oil” for longer than most of us realize, and that the high costs of doing so – from rampant toxin-related illnesses and death; to the chemical poisoning of our air, water, and landscapes; to the centralizing of corporate commercial political and economic power – are worth considering.

It would be a mistake to romanticize small-scale subsistence farming. Perhaps more of a mistake, however, is to ignore the history and the trade-offs of Big Pharm’s “war on bugs.” If ever there was a historical argument for cultivating thoughtful localvore living, food sovereignty, and homestead security moving into the 21st century, this book is it.

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