Ten Deep 07.02.09: Directorial Debuts

Posted by Owain J. Brimfield on 07.02.2009

From Kevin Costner’s Dances With Wolves to Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs and even Frank Darabont's The Shawshank Redemption, these were some great directorial debuts! In the latest edition of Ten Deep, 411’s Owain J. Brimfield takes a look at the best directorial debuts in cinema! Check out the full column for all the details!





Welcome to week 37 of 'Ten Deep'! Well, it was a hectic last week as I kicked off my tenure in charge of the column with a look at the top ten reboots, and hoo boy did that draw some feedback. Let's begin as we shall henceforth always do, with some...

Reactions and interactions

A couple of themes were prevalent amongst the comments left, firstly and most notably the question of why on earth I would include television shows in a column entitled "top ten movie reboots". A valid question! But I'm not guilty; I submitted a column entitled simply "top ten reboots", and unbeknownst to me, the Powers That Be changed the title before posting the article. I blame Csonka trying to undermine my debut column. Curse you Larrold!

Secondly, a few of the choices instigated much debate as to whether they were, in fact, reboots. The main ones in question:

Freddy vs Jason - sure, I'll give you this one, and I said as much in the column. It's completely up for debate. The reason I perceive it as a reboot is that it's a fresh start for both franchises, aiming for something a little different than the Nightmare and Friday series' previously embodied, and it also pretty much ignores the events of Jason X. Still, I see the counterpoint. That's the beauty of columns like this opening things up for intelligent argument. That, and I get to chortle at poorly-written attempts at insults from the small percentage of readers who struggle to string together a coherent thought.

Superman Returns - now how is this not a reboot? The film completely ignores the third and fourth movies in the original series and sets about delivering a sequel to the second. Blatantly a reboot and I won't hear otherwise.

Patriot Games - yeah, middle of the road. Again, I construe it as a change of direction from the previous movie (Red October), but while the change of lead actor gives this one a little more credence than Freddy vs Jason, it's certainly arguable that it's simply a sequel / kick-start.

Elsewhere, Mike informs me that Alec Baldwin turned down a second stint as Jack Ryan to concentrate on Broadway. Thanks for clarifying, although I didn't actually imply, as you suggest, that it was a direct precursor to the subpar films he went on to make in the 90s.

Both Guest#7773 and D-Gonza point out a factual error, that Kane Hodder did actually portray Jason in Friday the 13th parts 9 and 10. Good call, my bad - I honestly thought that Kirzinger inhabited the role from part 8 onwards. Research 1, Brimfield 0.

Michael L offers some alternative Superman reboots to Returns, namely the Lois & Clark and Smallville TV shows, underrated and overrated respectively in my humble opinion. Dean Cain was never better *cough*.

Rpr questions the ranking criteria for the list, suggesting I should have aimed to organize the list by which reboots had the most critical/commercial success. To clarify, I wasn't ranking the ten simply by personal preference (believe me, Doctor Who would have been much higher otherwise); I was going for how well I judged the film or show to have succeeded in rebooting the franchise. Although, I'd argue that the list turned out pretty similar to a "critical acclaim"-style ranking.

For all the back-and-forth over Superman Returns, KanyonKreist hit the nail on the head - Superman never punches anything, and that's not what people expect from a superhero movie. Very good point sir, and it does seem that most (although not all) of the backlash to the movie comes from embittered fans having expected something more typical of the genre.

Fenris accuses me of having poor judgment, then subsequently calls Superman a pedophile and criticizes me for not including Assault on Precinct 13 (a remake, not a reboot). Good work, son.

Comic Book Guy (if that is his real name) thinks I judged a movie that I admitted I never saw. Sadly, he's mistaken. I judged 2004's The Punisher as poor, because I saw it and it was poor. I admitted to not having seen Punisher: War Zone, because by all accounts that wasn't too bad and might have made the list. Return to your tired gimmick, Mr. Book Guy.

And both mojo-x and S. Masters reliably inform me that Ed Norton is not, in fact, the frontman of Primus. It's Les Claypool, would you believe! Thankfully, Mario got the joke:



Anyhoo, moving onwards. This week, we're taking a look at the best directorial debuts cinema has had to offer. Many movie directors begin their careers in an inauspicious fashion, but every now and then a budding director will break new cinematic ground with their debut feature and solidify themselves as a name to watch in future. I must confess that initially when thinking about this topic, I thought it'd be relatively easy to name a top ten off the top of my head, but when I sat down to think about it there are actually a surprising number of stellar directorial debuts out there, and I know for a fact there are a few big titles that I've left off the list that you guys can give me hell for in the comments section. I'm also aware that there are a couple of particularly notable omissions due to my golden rule below, those being Breathless (Jean-Luc Godard) and The 400 Blows (François Truffaut). Yes, they are on my extremely lengthy "to see next" list. A few criteria to go by, too - I'm considering only feature-length films, regardless of whether the director had any previous non-movie experience. Let's begin!

As always, there's one golden rule: if I haven't seen it, it's not allowed on the list.





Honorable mention: Boyz n' the Hood (John Singleton)

Hard to believe that Singleton directed this incendiary look at life in L.A. when he was younger than I am now. Sickening, ain't it.

Honorable mention: The Maltese Falcon (John Huston)

Probably my favorite role of Bogie's, and a superior adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's hard-boiled private dick novel *ahem*.

10. The Night of the Hunter (Charles Laughton)

Creeping in at the rear end of the list, due mostly to the fact that where the following entries in today's 'Ten Deep' went on to launch their respective directors' careers, Hunter was English actor Charles Laughton's sole (accredited) turn behind the cameras. Largely derided upon release, despite now being heralded as one of the better films of its decade, Laughton never received the chance to direct again, and died only seven years later, leaving subsequent generations to rue one of cinema's many "what ifs" (although of course, for all we know he may have been put off by the experience). Regardless, Hunter is one of the most visually striking films to emerge from the 1950s, drawing on elements redolent of earlier German filmmaking to create a distorted and angular style that set Laughton apart from his contemporaries as a director of unique vision. Adapted by Laughton himself from a novel by Davis Grubb, the movie pretty much stands alone in terms of 50s cinema and is all the more refreshing a debut for it. Plus, it features a character named "Icey Spoon", which still makes me chuckle and for my money should give a few extra points to any film.

Mention of Hunter can't be made, of course, without touching on Robert Mitchum's chilling villain Harry Powell (an approximation of real-life killer Harry Powers), one of the most memorable performances of that man's career. With "love" and "hate" tattooed across his knuckles (so astutely parodied by Sideshow Bob in The Simpsons with his own "luv" and "hāt" inkings across his cartoon fingers), Powell is a force of nature, relentless and terrifying with the ease at which he worms his way into the Harpers' lives, with the sole intention of unearthing their deceased father's ill-gotten gains, and giving not a fig for whose throat he has to cut to achieve his goal. It's Powell who makes the film, and the fact that he's for the most part targeting innocent children that makes Hunter all the more frightening. Laughton certainly knew what he was creating (referring to Powell as a "diabolical bastard" along the way), and while helping craft one of cinema's great antagonists doesn't necessarily constitute a superlative movie debut on its own, creating one of the most idiosyncratic and sinister films of its time certainly bumps up into that category. How long until someone moots this for a remake, dare I suggest it?

9. American Beauty (Sam Mendes)

Certainly the most oft-parodied film on this list, American Beauty treads a fine line just the right side of pretentious, although it's easy to see how casual viewers may regard it as crossing the line. A respectable barometer for that sort of thing is the "bag in the wind" scene (again referenced by The Simpsons; clearly Groening would approve of this column) - those viewers in whom it elicits nothing more than giggles probably aren't the audience for whom the film was intended, although you're guaranteed to find devotees who claim it's one of the most beautiful scenes committed to film (personally, I'm treading a middle line on that one). Mendes' carefully honed dissection of American suburbia quickly found its place in the pantheon of modern greats, taking home the Best Picture Oscar to boot, one of the few times that particular award had gone to a first-time director, although incidentally the next entry on this list also happens to fit the same criterion. Kevin Spacey and Chris Cooper have rarely been better than they are here - Spacey in particular excels as the tormented Lester, driven to distraction by a dysfunctional home life and a dangerous infatuation with an alluring high school cheerleader - and it's hard to believe Wes Bentley went from this apparent star-making turn to appear in such dross as P2 (perhaps that particular decline is best examined through the eyes of recent doc My Big Break).

Sam Mendes has since gone on to direct a number of acclaimed films, with last year's Revolutionary Road seemingly intent on recapturing the glories of his debut masterpiece, if not quite matching up to the award ceremony chutzpah the latter displayed. American Beauty still shines through as his golden moment, though, an evocative and at times distressing glimpse into suburban life that could well exist anywhere in turn-of-the-century America. Although Lester Burnham isn't a conventional everyman, that's kind of the point, allowing us both to empathize with his fantasies of escaping his everyday drudgery and revile him for being such a sadsack. Even though the denouement, violently cathartic and rife with the film's thematic red, is telegraphed in the opening narration, it's still a powerful end to Lester's story, and a fantastic way to cap off the strongest directorial debut of the past ten years (it's technically not a decade old for another few months, so I can get away with that one).

8. Dances With Wolves (Kevin Costner)

Is it actually possible that Kevin Costner, who directed and starred in one of the most critically annihilated films of recent years in The Postman, was responsible in his debut outing behind the camera for one of the best contemporary westerns in cinema? Yes, before Costner gave out hope as if it were candy in his pocket, even before he headlined one of the floppiest flops in motion picture history in Waterworld (a film whose German language version was for some macabre reason shown to us over and over again in German classes at high school, as if Dennis Hopper wasn't sufficiently terrifying in his native language), Costner took to the director's chair to helm Dances With Wolves, a languid epic charting the story of a US army lieutenant who travels beyond the great western frontier and gradually assimilates into a local Sioux tribe. As mentioned above, the flick won the Best Picture statuette at the 1990 Oscars, along with a small mound of other awards and plaudits, and seemed set to launch Costner's star into the stratosphere - which it did for his acting career, as he went on to snatch plum roles in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, JFK, Wyatt Earp and The Bodyguard, but never quite managed for his director ego, who stalled for a number of years before returning with the collaborative effort of Waterworld and the aforementioned dud of The Postman. A true shame, as Dances shows simply heaps of potential, to use a particularly English turn of phrase.

Although Costner here gives a strong (not excellent, but strong) turn as 1st Lt. John Dunbar in the lead role, the real star of the show is the Dakotan landscape, a breathtaking slideshow of hills and plains that Costner (the director) wisely allows to overshadow Costner (the star). The extended Director's Cut, which adds close to an hour on top of the theatrical release, allows the camera to linger even longer on the gorgeous scenery, with Dunbar's journey to the abandoned Fort Sedgwick in particular a slice of sedately glorious filmmaking. One of the few cinematic depictions of the Native American community (strange how it's still a natural urge to term them 'Red Indians') to portray the films as the complex, flawed human beings they undoubtedly are, Dances takes a turn for the political as Dunbar turns against his former comrades and sides with the Sioux and provides a riveting portrayal of native life on the plains. Costner the actor may have gone on to do bigger box office business, but it's still Costner the director who holds the strongest claim to the man's legacy.

7. 12 Angry Men (Sidney Lumet)

If ever a film was obviously adapted from a stage play, Lumet's debut feature is undoubtedly it. Thankfully, it's as taut and engaging a one-set movie as you're ever likely to see, and despite the pulp-tastic tagline that promised some sort of B-movie group slasher ("Life is in their hands - death is on their minds! It EXPLODES like 12 sticks of dynamite!" - man, you can almost feel the copywriter having to be physically restrained from adding in some additional exclamation marks), 12 Angry Men turned out to be a most intelligent and well-regarded drama. Which may have disappointed some tiny corners of the moviegoing world, not least the guy who came up with that tag, but for the rest of us who appreciate quality filmmaking, well, we were in for a treat. Despite all the makings of a made-for-TV film (indeed, the original play was first adapted for CBS before this), 12 Angry Men (or Twelve if you prefer) is superior fare, a fact quietly evidenced in the slow-burning tension that builds within the twelve jurors' deliberation room as they struggle to reach a unanimous verdict in an unheard murder case. With the potential of capital punishment on the line, only one lone voice stands against the rest to genuinely question the facts.

While Henry Fonda is the nominal star (also on producing duties with the original playwright, Reggie Rose), the film is much more of an ensemble piece, with that ethos supported by the eschewing of character names - again the ties to the stage are evidenced - and despite the quietly heroic aspects of Juror #8's character, the story isn't played as a morality tale, instead emerging as a powerful (if claustrophobic) look at the nature of rational argument and twelve individual dramas woven into a greater tapestry. The critical acclaim the film has enjoyed in subsequent years has been immense, with everyone from Roger Ebert to the AFI declaring it a classic, and with sound reasoning. 12 Angry Men was a debut feature that most directors would struggle to accomplish on their tenth outing, but then, given Lumet went on to direct classics like Network, Dog Day Afternoon and Serpico (all those in the space of three years, in fact) it's no surprise to discover he was just as talented at the outset of the career as he was at its peak.

6. Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino)

Few directors have had as much impact on the world of post-1990 pop-culture as Tarantino (in fact, probably none, now that I think about it. J.J. Abrams, maybe?), and Reservoir Dogs is where it all started. Certainly the most stylish film on this list, Tarantino's virtuoso debut launched a new generation of independent film and managed to revolutionize movie violence into the bargain (not to mention, incidentally, embedding the George Baker Selection and Stealer's Wheel indelibly into the moviegoing consciousness). Despite his insistence in casting himself as one of the supporting characters - let's face it, old QT doesn't read his dialogue half as convincingly as he writes it - the rest of the cast is uniformly excellent, with Michael Madsen and Tim Roth in particular taking on the roles for which they're still arguably most famous. While Reservoir Dogs wasn't exactly a box-office barnstormer, it quickly amassed a cult following, and following Tarantino's groundbreaking follow-up Pulp Fiction rapidly attained a reputation confirmed by Empire magazine as the best independent film of all time. Whether it lives up to that grandiose label is a matter for debate, but it would certainly be one of the top contenders. Not bad for a filmmaker whose first behind-the-scenes credit came on a Dolph Lundgren home fitness video. Put that in your trivia pipe and smoke it.

There's no doubting that QT's debut is a revolutionary film, from the now-standard loose narrative structure to the integration of music and radio, to the in-your-face violence employed in such a matter-of-fact manner that the movie immediately drew all manner of controversy (Mr. Blonde's ear-slicing torture scene, in particular, is a slice [zing!] of gruesome brilliance). Perhaps even more impressive is the groundwork the film laid for Pulp Fiction, one of the most important films of the 90s, and the tear that Tarantino subsequently went on. Despite misfires here and there, he's still managed to amass a reputation as one of the world's premier directors, and it's Reservoir Dogs that set him out on that path and gave him a great big shove along the way. The film was - well, still is - a brutal crime thriller that flouted convention and delivered us the second-best movie debut of the decade. But more on that later...

5. Duel (Steven Spielberg)

Probably the entry on this list closest to not making the cut via technicality (at a paltry running time of only 74 minutes (give or take) it barely qualifies as "feature length", although that's understandable given its TV origins and the fact the DVD release adds on an extra chunk of material). While Duel wasn't Señor Spielbergo's cinematic debut, given the choice between this and The Sugarland Express - one of the few genuine non-classics in the man's repertoire - it was a given that this was going to make it on to the list in some capacity. The film is essentially a dry run for Jaws with a tanker truck replacing Bruce the shark, and features one of the simplest, almost high-concept, setups imaginable: a man drives across the desert and is chased, nay vehicularlly stalked, by a big old filthy tanker. Spielberg apparently auditioned dozens of trucks for the role, and the vehicle that landed the part was a plum choice, embodying a frightening unseen force and presenting one of the movies' greatest non-biological antagonists. As has always been the case, what you don't see is a heck of a lot scarier than what you do, and with the driver of the truck (and indeed his motives) wisely concealed throughout, the movie gains a terrifying new dimension.

Scripted by Richard Matheson (yes, he of I Am Legend fame) from his own short story, Spielberg works wonders with the blindingly simple conceit, and every set piece confrontation between our workaday hero David Mann - a loss of points for blindingly obvious symbolism with the character name there, but fair play - and the anonymous truck driver dripping with suspense. You could quite literally cut the tension this film generates with a cricket stump... not that you'd particularly want to, as the build-up to the final, cathartic release is spectacularly well engineered. In Spielberg's hands, a shot as simple as the truck driver waving Mann past is rendered ominous and portentous, and with the exception of some obviously sped-up chase footage, the action is handled pretty well too. However it's the eponymous confrontations that stick in the mind the longest, whether playing out at an isolated cafe or a railway crossing, or the final, deadly game of chicken. Duel is an archetypal thriller and one that does the genre more than proud. And oh yeah, that Spielberg guy went on to do pretty well for himself, too.

4. Night of the Living Dead (George A. Romero)

Hmmm, well, by including this here I do contradict the assertion made earlier that Reservoir Dogs was the best independent film ever released, but I'm comfortable with that so I hope you'll run with it too. Night of the Living Dead is surely the best independent horror film ever released, at least, and certainly the most successful, raking in something close to 400 times at the box office what it cost to make, as well as birthing a zombie holocaust and spawning four sequels (not to mention countless rip-offs and homages). Romero revolutionized the genre with his ghoulish masterpiece, and (perhaps inadvertently) helped the humble zombie scale the pedestal of pop-culture icon. Oh, and while he was at it, he also delivered a film that doubles as a damn scary horror flick and a subversive indictment of American foreign policy in Vietnam. Not bad for a debut effort, right?

Of course, Night is rightly regarded as a horror masterpiece. The unknown Romero, working on a limited budget and armed only with the power of his imagination and a desire to rewrite the rules of the genre, scored big with his gory shocks and his (intentional?) satirizing of US military involvement in an unwinnable overseas war, not to mention a portrayal of a strong and capable black hero that was at odds with the ethos of the time. But it's the zombies themselves that really make the film. Of course, it wasn't the first time zombies had invaded the big screen, and in fact Romero never refers to them by that particular term throughout the course of the movie (of course, it's never revealed what caused the dead to come back to life, either). But their dead-eyed shuffling, murderous intent and the slow encroachment of an inevitable demise were captured perfectly, and all subsequent zombie films have looked to Night for inspiration to some degree or another. In a sense they're the perfect cinematic metaphor for death itself, and boy, you can run but you sure can't hide from the zombie apocalypse. Just remember to sever the head. Night of the Living Dead went on to see several sequels whose merits are arguably even better (Dawn outdoes it for satire and Day for out-and-out scares), but remains a cornerstone of horror cinema, and certainly the most shocking directorial debut (in the more literal sense of the term) on this list.

3. Citizen Kane (Orson Welles)

Oh ho, that's right, I went there. Hands up who was expecting to see this at number one and is even now formulating a poorly constructed attempt at an insult/rebuttal? Yes, I'm one of those people who don't think that Citizen Kane is quite the be-all and end-all of cinema that it's made out to be (more fuel for your surely burgeoning hatred - I don't think The Godfather's all that great, either). Of course, there is little room for debate that it is a fantastic and innovative film, nor is there much scope to doubt its impact on the business of motion pictures. I just don't think it happens to be the best directorial debut ever, nor in fact do I regard it as Orson Welles' best work, although the AFI would doubtless have you strung up for treason for daring to venture such an opinion, the film having topped their list of the greatest American movies of all time twice (incidentally, it's not just a US thing, the BFI rates it just as highly). Well, someone has to burst the bubble from time to time and it's going to be me on this occasion, even for something as apparently harmless as not declaring this one of the best films of all time.

But anyway, please put aside your hatred for a few moments and realise I'm not denigrating Welles or the film in any shape or form, and allow me to wax lyrical on why exactly Citizen Kane is a must-watch for any aspiring cineaste. The story of media tycoon Charles Foster Kane's rise to prominence and vast wealth, building and destroying relationships along the way leading to his eventual decline and isolation, is a powerful tale and one portrayed with immense skill and flourish by the young Welles (a mere strap of a lad at 26 at the time, wouldn't you believe) in one of the strongest, if not the strongest, actor/director dual roles in cinema history. The quest of reporter Jerry Thompson to discover the meaning behind Kane's dying word "Rosebud" unearths an account of triumph and woe to rival Shakespeare, even if it's unnervingly difficult to think of it without picturing Mr. Burns estranged bear Bobo. Citizen Kane rightly established Welles as one of the most talented and creative directors of his - well indeed, any - generation, and for all the hyperbole that surrounds it these days (much of which is, I'll grant it, warranted), it remains a touchpiece of 20th century cinema whose rivals are few and far between.

2. This Is Spinal Tap (Rob Reiner)

For all that Rob Reiner's stock has fallen in recent years, let's not forget that his early years in the business saw some high quality filmmaking. To be honest though, the man could have called it a career by the time 1989 rolled around, having directed two of the best comedy films of all time in The Princess Bride and this, his debut and arguably still his masterpiece. Although certainly not the first "mockumentary" or "rockumentary" film to be released (nor in fact the first rock-mockumentary, Eric Idle having got there several years earlier with The Rutles and All You Need is Cash), it's far and away the definitive entry into both of those niche genres, but more importantly one of the greatest comedic movies in history. The quality of the writing is simply breathtaking, with gags and endlessly quotables lines of dialogue firing out at a rate not far off that of Airplane! - and then you remember that, hang on a minute, the vast majority of this was improvised. Simply stunning. There is barely a scene of the movie that goes by without a line that you won't have already heard quoted by a friend or acquaintance in some other walk of life. Not to mention the brilliance of the songs on display, which work both as spoofs and catchy rock numbers in their own right ('Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You (Tonight)' being probably the pick of the bunch).

The three principals (Harry Shearer, Christopher Guest and Michael McKean) have never been better, inhabiting the roles of the spoof rockers with such conviction and comic bravado that it's easy to see how real-life rock stars from Steven Tyler to George Lynch thought the film was somehow a rib on their own band (and to be fair, from personal experience I can tell you that taking second billing to a puppet show isn't exactly good for the soul). Reiner himself appears on camera from time to time, too, as documentarian Marty DiBergi, whose quest it is to chronicle the band's attempt to "tap into America". But it's the assured confidence with which he directs such controlled chaos that's really impressive and earns the number two spot in this list. I highly doubt there's anyone who's reading this and hasn't seen the film, but if you haven't you're doing yourself a disservice unless you track it down immediately. Crafting one of the finest comedy films of all time in your feature debut is pretty damn impressive, but it's not quite as good as...

1. The Shawshank Redemption (Frank Darabont)

...Crafting one of the finest films of all time, period, in your cinematic feature debut, which is exactly what Frank Darabont pulled off with Shawshank. And yes, I fully realize that I am bending my own rules here, by allowing the TV movie Duel onto this list but disregarding Darabont's own made-for-TV Buried Alive. Well, this is my column, so deal with it. Regardless of Darabont's prior directorial experience (and let's face it, a little-seen TV horror movie and short-length Stephen King adaptation don't exactly qualify the man as a seasoned pro), coming out with a film as accomplished as The Shawshank Redemption on his first real turn behind the cameras was nothing short of startling, and the film's quality is more than strong enough to override the technicality of a potential omission from this list. Having been involved in the movie business primarily as a writer beforehand, it's also impressive that the man adapted Shawshank himself following such, er, "noteworthy" screenplays as The Fly 2 and The Blob. But enough justification of the rationale behind this inclusion - let's face it, most people recognize that Shawshank is a top-class movie, and if Citizen Kane is worthy of inclusion in talk of the best film of all time, well, surely this has to be in the running too.

The strange thing is, Shawshank does manage to remain somewhat of a divisive film - for every half dozen people who claim it's a fantastic work of cinema there does seem to be one dissenter, which is something that has always baffled me. For me, the single flaw about the film is the fact that Andy Dufresne and Red don't really seem to age too much over the course of the twenty-odd years they spend incarcerated, but when that's the worst thing about your movie you surely know you're on to something good. Still, our accepted interweb measure of movie taste the IMDB does currently list this at number one (and, incidentally, our good friend Citizen Kane at number 33), and for me it's easy to see why. The movie is so powerful and moving on a universal level, with a denouement that represents one of the most cathartic moments in film history, that it's hard to see what else could challenge it for the number one spot here. Darabont has gone on to continued success (see: Green Mile, The and Mist, The), but lightning this bright doesn't strike twice. Widely accepted as one of the greatest films of all time, for me Shawshank was an easy inclusion for the number one spot, although I'm willing to risk the animosity it gets for not fitting neatly in with the criteria. Ah well, what can you do.

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And finally…

Feeling aggrieved or elated at this week's ten picks? Then let me know! The magic of the interweb allows you to post your comments right here on this very page, and if they're especially insightful (or idiotic), I may even respond in the next column. Be sure to tune in next week for another edition of 'Ten Deep', but until th