Sam Burnham, Curator The Netflix original series Chef’s Table has been around since 2015. The 2020 incarnation centers on that grandest of cuisines. BBQ isn’t just food, It’s a way of life. And nowhere will you find that statement more true than with South Carolina’s Rodney Scott. This episode highlights his cooking style: whole hog cooked over smoldering coals. Scott burns wood in metal barrels and transfers the coals to the pits with a shovel. It’s slow and deliberate. It requires patience. All good things in time. That style isn’t just food for Rodney Scott. Chef’s Table shows how that patience, that deliberate effort took him from a young boy with hopes but no real plans to the James Beard Award stage. Scott’s story is inspiring. The soundtrack and cinematography are beautifully done. This is the quality we’re coming to expect from Netflix’s original programming. They bring a sense of real filmmaking to what we consider a television program. It’s setting a standard for entertainment. Meanwhile, Rodney Scott is taking the art he learned working for his parents and is passing it on to his son. A classically trained chef spends years in culinary school and climbing the ladder of a kitchen. Scott's experience was different. Instead of classes, he was immersed in the craft. A good BBQ cook is an artist, a skilled craftsman. He isn't merely trained in the science of it all. He feels it. It is a part of him. Seeing the younger Scott walking among the pits or caring for hogs with his father is more than a good family story. It's hope for the future. It is a promise that this art will be available for my grandchildren to enjoy. Those lessons that were learned in Hemingway, South Carolina are being passed along. Those skills are a generational wealth the same as land or a trust fund. They may not seem as lucrative by our modern standards but by the right standards, they are priceless. At roughly 45 minutes, the show is slightly longer than the actual content of a traditional one hour television show. I could have watched another 45 minutes of it. I found myself wanting to get better at my own craft. I felt encouraged to be more introspective of my own life. More than anything, I found myself wanting to eat some BBQ...I mean, more than usual. It is with good reason that this show is sitting at #6 in Netflix's US ratings right now. If you haven't seen it yet, it is well worth your time.
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Sam Burnham, Curator Time for a retro review. A few days ago Florida author Wanda Suttle Duncan pointed me towards a documentary she thought I would enjoy. She was right. I wouldn’t be doing my job as ABG Curator if I didn’t pass this one on to you. Back in 1981, documentary filmmaker Errol Morris planned to produce a film called “Nub City” to document the American city with the highest rate of amputations. The premise was to highlight insurance scams using a practice of voluntary amputation. His plan backfired when the people of Vernon, Florida found out what he was up to and ran him out of town. So Morris changed the plan and used footage he had collected in Vernon and assembled it into the quirkiest documentary I’ve ever seen. There's plenty to love about this film. The only speaking that goes on is done by the townspeople themselves. There’s no commentary from some outsider trying to skew your thoughts into any one direction. The viewer is presented with the people of Vernon and the stories they tell. The only editorial actions would be the choice of which footage to use, which order to present it in, and the addition of music in a few places. The stories are so unique. There’s no single thread that ties these stories together. The topics are all over the place. Morris found some true characters and turned them loose. Several of the stories do focus on a sense of place. The land, the woods, the water, even local real estate comes up. Vernon is home and there’s no suggestion that anyone in this film has a desire to be anywhere else. Oddly, none of them seem to be an amputee, voluntarily or otherwise. Without airing out too many spoilers I’ll say that in this documentary you’ll hear one of the best fishing stories I’ve heard since Jaws, perhaps even Moby Dick. The story involves a pond, 114 warmouth, and the bloated corpse of a 65-year-old mule. You’ll also hear some impressive turkey hunting stories, There’s some information and commentary regarding the care and raising of fishing worms. Of course you’ll catch up on local lore, local history, and local gossip. There’s opinions on local real estate, candid remarks from local law enforcement. It’s thick and honest. The people of Vernon didn’t realize they were supposed to be embellished characters in a reality show. The results are better because of that. Most importantly there’s a rare peek into the world of a quirky and weird corner of the rural South. Are you curious about untamed Florida? Do you want to know what that Florida Man hashtag is really all about? Do you want to see all this without the commentary of outsiders? Then I suggest a viewing of Vernon, Florida. The film is available through several online services. Sam Burnham, Curator @C_SamBurnham I want to take a closer look at some of the themes in this film. There’s a lot going on here and I’d like to examine it in light of the earlier commentary on Hell or High Water. Again we see Texas Rangers chasing down bank robbers. Again we see, on a much larger scale this time, an affinity for the outlaws from the general public. The evil banks are getting theirs and there is a cult of personality, a wild fandom that has grown out of the gratitude the people have for what they believe is vengeance, a reckoning even. Looking at one of the Rangers, Maney Gault, played by Woddy Harrelson, we see a man who is struggling with events that haunt him. These events date back to the earliest days in his career when he and his partner, Frank Hamer, played by Costner, raided an encampment of Mexican bandits, killing dozens, including a young boy. The memories drive his convictions as he expresses adamantly that how they conduct themselves should reflect that they are better than the monsters they seek. A pivotal scene is when Hamer confronts Clyde Barrow’s father, Henry, played by William Sadler. The two discuss how Clyde evolved from a “good kid” to a murderous outlaw and, in turn, how Hamer became a Texas Ranger and eventually a highwayman on a special assignment to take down Bonnie and Clyde. Like any father would, Barrow points to the good in his son. He wants Hamer to know this wasn’t how his boy was raised or who he really was. They discuss the idea of “one turn on the trail,” the idea that one decision can lead to a series of decisions that can change the course of a life. While Barrow is defending his son, he also stresses to Hamer that the only way this rampage ends is with Clyde’s death. He’s almost weeping as he asks Hamer to end it quickly. A father has already lost his son. What must come will bring an odd relief to his family. That end comes as Gault and Hamer, with the help of a Dallas deputy and a Louisiana sheriff and deputy, set an elaborate trap for Bonnie and Clyde. The moment they spring that trap is the first real glimpse you get of the couple. They’re young, attractive, well dressed. They don’t look like soulless monsters. They look like two kids with their whole lives ahead of them. That is where you feel that tug at your heart as the barrage of gunfire erupts and their youthful bodies are obliterated by hundreds of bullets. It is all so senseless and yet, there was no other way their violent rampage was ever going to end. What we should take take away from this film is a true and complete respect for and commitment to the sanctity of human life. Bonnie and Clyde were revered for what they did because everyday folks cheapened the lives of bankers. Hamer and Gault were each tormented in their own ways for their taking of human life. Bonnie and Clyde found their own unnecessary destruction through their disregard for human life. Viewers are left to ponder the value of human life as two beautiful yet sinister people are blown to smithereens. If we value human life, we value all human life. And that can seem like a paradox at times. When Hamer and Gault stormed the lair of the bandits and killed them, it ended a terrible threat to human life. But it also ended human lives. When they killed Bonnie and Clyde, it ended the threat of violence to banks, law enforcement, and even average people, but it also cost the lives of two human beings. In the end the deaths were beneficial for the safety of others. But that doesn’t make the loss of life something to celebrate. In the case of Bonnie and Clyde, their souls died long before their bodies were killed. What really could have come from their lives? What of the grief of their families? What of missed opportunities? What of wasted lives? In short, killing them was necessary. It was the only way to save lives but their deaths were no less tragic for it. Valuing himan life does not mean never killing. It means that sometimes killing is the only way to save life. It means being willing to kill to save lives. But it also means that killing, no matter how necessary, is never good. There’s a toll that killing takes on the human psyche. There’s a cost for all involved. The best option is to value human life and prevent the death of the soul that builds monsters like Bonnie and Clyde. This means appropriate methods of incarceration and rehabilitation. This means education and mentoring. It means loving life first and applying appropriate and necessary justice while maintaining our own souls and not becoming the monsters we fight. The Highwaymen offers many lessons in life , love, mercy, and justice. We’d be wise, as individuals and a society, to take these lessons, learn from them, and apply them. |
Sam B.Historian, self-proclaimed gentleman, agrarian-at-heart, & curator extraordinaire Social MediaCategories
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