Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 1/14 - French

There are interesting developments in France. Many French citizens show signs of re-growing a pair. Commandos attempted to rescue a hostage in Somalia, which, unfortunately, failed. And the government has come to the aid of a former African colony, Mali, bombing Islamic terrorists trying to take control of the country, and even dispatching combat ground troops to aid in the fight. And this under a Socialist leader, Francois Hollande. And hundreds of thousands of citizens took to the streets to protest gay marriage and adoption. Sacre bleu! What would the world be saying if a conservative was leading? Is France moving right? I doubt it. Despite high unemployment and a faltering economy, the people take to the streets in large numbers whenever there is a threat to the cut back of entitlements.

Since Liam Neeson has been in several action flicks I’ve enjoyed, I decided to give The Taken (2008) a look. Since it spawned a 2012 sequel, I figured it must be at least a crowd-pleaser. It is another in the long line of one-man-army films, in this case an ex-clandestine agent searching Paris for his kidnapped daughter. The pace is fast and the body count is high. It is most satisfying viscerally, as the evil get their just desserts. And it runs less than an hour and forty minutes, most unusual these days. The under-utilized and under-appreciated Famke Janssen plays the distraught mom. Xander Berkeley, a Brooklyn boy, appears as the benevolent step-dad. Only 57, he has massed 197 credits, an unbelievable total in this era, and that’s not counting his many stints as a regular in TV series. On a scale of five, I rate The Taken three. It is rated 7.9 out of ten at IMDb. Get this - it was directed by Pierre Morel, a Frenchman! And the screenplay was by Luc Besson, whose films seem more American than European stylistically. Maybe those two have had their minds warped by McDonalds.

Sign of the times: Baltimore Ravens LB Ray Lewis, implicated in a murder in which his blood-stained clothing was never recovered, is celebrated, and Tim Tebow, devout Christian without even a hint of skeleton in his closet, is vilified.

It was a disappointing day for the floating book shop. My thanks to the young home attendant who purchased a three-for-one paperback deal, none in French. At least I managed to nab the perfect parking space. I don't have to move the car until Thursday afternoon and, if I get cold, I can take a seat for a while and still keep an eye on my wares.
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