chadtaim perree zevarya
Algernon Alcala
Body of Evidence is a 1993 erotic thriller film directed by Uli Edel, written by Brad Mirman, and starring Madonna and Willem Dafoe, with Joe Mantegna, Anne Archer, Julianne Moore, and Jrgen Prochnow in supporting roles.
Widely considered to be a vanity project for Madonna and derided for its plot inconsistencies and incongruous dialogue, it marked her fourth film performance to be universally panned by critics, following Shanghai Surprise, Who's That Girl, and Bloodhounds of Broadway.[4]
The elderly and wealthy Andrew Marsh dies from complications stemming from an erotic incident involving bondage and homemade pornography. The main suspect is his lover Rebecca Carlson who proclaims her innocence to lawyer Frank Dulaney. Initially believing her, Frank agrees to represent her.
District Attorney Robert Garrett seeks to prove that Rebecca deliberately killed Marsh in bed to receive the $8 million he left her in his will. As the trial begins, Rebecca and Frank enter a sadomasochistic sexual relationship behind the back of Frank's unsuspecting wife, Sharon.
After an ex-lover of Rebecca's, Jeffrey Roston, testifies that he also had a heart condition, and both changed his will to favour Rebecca, and that she was sexually domineering and compelled him to engage in sexual activity with no regard to his health, describing an incident that clearly resonates with Frank's own experience, Frank attempts to end their affair.
Sharon confronts him about the affair having figured it out from a phone call with Rebecca as well as the strange marks on his body from the hot wax. Frank goes to Rebecca's home and accuses her of telling his wife about them (although Sharon says she worked it out from her tone alone). Rebecca taunts Frank, and he pushes her to the ground. Rebecca begins to masturbate on the floor in front of him. Rebecca pulls out handcuffs, Frank forcibly cuffs her hands instead and sexually assaults her. Initially she resists before appearing to enjoy the assault.
Footage from Marsh's home video reveals that he had an affair with his secretary, Joanne Braslow, who is a key witness against Rebecca. He also had previously left Joanne more money in his will before beginning his relationship with Rebecca. She says that she was hurt but she loved him and would never hurt him. However, there is evidence that she bought the murder weapon. Rebecca suggests to Frank that the secretary tried to frame her, but he is now less sure of her innocence in the crime.
Rebecca takes the stand and her surprising testimony that Roston had an affair with another man convinces the jury, which acquits her. Before leaving court, she mockingly thanks Frank and indicates that she is guilty after all.
Frank still cannot resist going to Rebecca's home, where he overhears an incriminating conversation between her and Marsh's doctor, Alan Paley. He confronts the co-conspirators, realizing that it was Paley who supplied the fatal dose of cocaine. Rebecca is amused by Frank's discovery of her manipulating him, but Paley is shocked to learn that she was in a sexual relationship with Frank as well. Rebecca mocks both men, bluntly acknowledging that she used her sexual prowess to control and humiliate both of them, as well as Marsh. Paley realizes she does not care about him and becomes enraged.
Body of Evidence was filmed in Portland, Oregon, with the Pittock Mansion serving as a primary location.[5] The cemetery scene featured in the beginning of the film was shot on location at Lone Fir Cemetery.[6]
Julianne Moore said her nude scene in this movie was "just awful": "I was too young to know better. It was the first time I'd been asked to get naked and it turned out to be completely extraneous and gratuitous."[7]
Body of Evidence performed poorly at the box office.[8] In its second week it experienced a 60% drop.[9] It grossed $13 million in the United States and Canada and $25 million internationally for a worldwide total of $38 million.[3]
The film originally received the rare NC-17 rating from the Motion Picture Association of America.[10] The first theatrical release was censored for the purpose of obtaining an R rating, reducing the film's running time from 101 to 99 minutes.[11] The video premiere, however, restored the deleted material.
Body of Evidence has an 8% rating at Rotten Tomatoes based on 38 reviews, with a rating average of 3.10/10. The critical consensus reads, "Body of Evidence's sex scenes may be kinky, but the ludicrous concept is further undone by the ridiculous dialogue."[12] Metacritic assigned the film a weighted average score of 29 out of 100, based on 17 critics, indicating "generally unfavorable reviews".[13] Audiences surveyed by CinemaScore gave the film a grade of "C" on scale of A+ to F.[14] The film appeared on the 2005 list of Roger Ebert's most hated films.[15] The screenplay and performances were especially disparaged.[16] His colleague Gene Siskel called Body of Evidence a "stupid and empty thriller" that is worse than her softcore coffee table book Sex.[17]
A tabletop murder mystery, with a twist! Examine evidence, scrutinize suspects, and take up the scalpel to perform a forensic autopsy on a paper-craft cadaver. Bring all of your detective skills to bear as both the detective and the coroner.
Kimberly Ruffin is a Certified Nature and Forest Therapy Guide who leads walks and gives talks in the Chicagoland area and wherever else she is called to serve. She is the author of Black on Earth: African American Ecoliterary Traditions and Associate Professor of English at Roosevelt University.
Dawline-Jane Oni-Eseleh is an Oakland-based visual artist whose current work is focused primarily on the shifting urban landscape. An avid observer and photographer, she uses a range of media in her work, including relief printmaking, pen and ink, photo transfer, and encaustic.
The church is one of my faith facts too. This body of evidence was built by Black folks. Wherever we lived in my Navy-brat childhood, from Virginia to California, we went to church. Sometimes it was a church on a Navy base with a chaplain, orange juice, White people, and lots of guitar. More often, it was a Black church with a gospel choir and long sermons peppered with call and response. Mom looked extra hard for the Black churches, and now I see why.
In September 2005, roughly a week after Hurricane Katrina ripped into the Gulf Coast, a group of New Orleans police officers discovered the burned shell of a car sitting on an earthen levee overlooking the bloated Mississippi River. Inside the scorched sedan, scattered across the back seat, lay black ashes and bones. Human bones. A charred skull, shards of rib, an arm bone, clumps of roasted flesh. Equipped with a digital camera, one cop clicked off a string of photos of the tableau.
Eventually, the remains were stuffed into five red plastic bags and hauled to a temporary morgue in the tiny town of St. Gabriel, some seventy miles up the road from New Orleans, autopsy records show. At the St. Gabriel facility, a team of rescue workers and forensic pathologists gave the collection of body fragments a number -- 06-00189 -- and began trying to answer a pair of intertwined questions: who was this man, and how did he die?
Dr. Kevin Whaley, a forensic pathologist, had an immediate suspicion about the latter. "My first reaction was that it was a homicide," recalls Whaley, a Virginia state medical examiner who went to Louisiana as part of a federal disaster response team. "When I heard he was found in a burned car I thought that was a classic homicide scenario: you kill someone and burn the body to get rid of the evidence."
Whaley studied a full-body X-ray of the remains. "There wasn't very much left of him," Whaley says. "Pretty much most of him had gone to ash." He figures victim 06-00189 must have been burned at an extremely hot temperature, somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 degrees. Mixed in with the bones and cinders, the scan revealed, was a constellation of metal bits; the autopsy report (PDF) notes "rib fractures with minute fragments of metal within the surrounding soft tissues." From the X-rays, Whaley couldn't tell if the metal chunks were the remnants of a bullet or a knife blade -- either way, they looked to him like evidence of a possible murder.
In Whaley's view, the case should have been treated as a possible homicide. But Orleans Parish coroner Frank Minyard ruled the death "unclassified" after what appears to have been a cursory inquiry. And in the end no law enforcement agency ever probed the matter, and no media outlet ever reported on the enigmatic case of the burned man, who was eventually identified, via DNA analysis, as Henry Glover, 31.
I've been able to reconstruct the final hours of Henry Glover's life from interviews with two eyewitnesses. On Sept. 2, 2005, Glover was walking with his friend Bernard Calloway behind a shuttered Chuck E. Cheese pizza place in a run-down strip mall in the Algiers section of New Orleans. Suddenly, there was a shout -- "Get out of here!" -- followed by the crack of a single gunshot. The bullet pierced Glover's chest.
As Glover bled, Calloway ran and got Glover's brother, Edward King, who was at an apartment complex nearby. King tells me neither he nor Calloway saw the shooter, and he doesn't know why the crime went down. But King knows what happened next: he and Calloway began desperately searching for someone with a car who could drive Glover to a hospital.
When William Tanner came rolling down Seine Street in his white 2002 Chevrolet Malibu, King rushed into the road and pleaded with him to stop. A middle-aged junkyard helper and lawn mower repairman, Tanner didn't know King or the others, but he could see Glover needed immediate medical attention. "We picked [Glover] up and put him in the car," Tanner recalls. "He was still breathing. We thought he might have a fair chance of surviving."
Tanner says he made a snap decision that the nearest hospital -- the West Jefferson Medical Center -- was too far away and chose instead to drive Glover to Paul B. Habans Elementary School, a public school that had been commandeered by the New Orleans Police Department tactical unit, or SWAT team, for use as a temporary base. The police, Tanner thought, would know how to help the wounded man; at the very least, they'd be able to get him an ambulance. But when Tanner pulled his car into the school's semicircular driveway, things turned out very differently: rather than rushing to aid Glover, the officers treated everyone in the vehicle with hostility, according to Tanner and King.
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