Salon features a worthwhile interview today with One Perfect Day: The Selling of the American Wedding author Rebecca Mead on the subject of the modern wedding, now shaped by an entire industry of wedding apparel, wedding planning, wedding gift registry, honeymoons, etc. What I've heard anecdotally about weddings leads me to believe that they are incredibly pricey, time-consuming affairs to plan, and the Salon article confirms this. The average American wedding today costs $27,852. Even factoring in the dollar-value of all of the wedding gifts a couple receives, 28K must make a dent in the bank accounts of most Americans, who on average earn $46,326 a year.
All of this returns me to the question that nags American consumerism as it drives the sputtering engine of the U.S. economy: how do people afford all of this expense, and why do they submit themselves to this costly racket? What is the use in putting so much time, energy, and money into a one-day affair? I imagine some of it is driven by the impulse to keep up with the Joneses and some of it by the desire to have something to do in an age when consumerism is an ersatz hobby. Having weathered the same sort of excess for B nai Mitzvah, I don't look forward to witnessing the spending contest to which peers will submit as they plan the American wedding.
Aside from the nupital narcissim, I never understood how people could work up so much excitement over wedding dresses and floral arrangments. Being subject to protracted discussions about wedding details is painful, particularly for one who is not planning on getting married soon or has never been married, and therefore can find little relevance in conversation about beads, lace, and strapless vs. sleeveless or whether to get a custom made dress or go to Filene's Basement's annual wedding sale, or whatever else engagees find themselves obligated to discuss ad nauseum.
Finally, let's not forget the hefty expenses to which friends and family of brides and bridegrooms are subject, without question, in the form of gifts--for the wedding and the bridal shower-- traveling expenses, bachelor or bachelorette party expenses, and wedding wear. And why must there be an engagement ring and a wedding ring? Especially when engagement rings are a relatively new tradition--one-third of brides did not marry with an engagement ring in 1939--one egged on by jewlers and diamond advertisers.
Showing posts with label Books and Film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books and Film. Show all posts
Monday, May 21, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
The D.C. Public Library in all of its glory
In doing a search on the D.C. Public Library's online catalog, I came across location categories including: Assumed lost, Claims lost, Branch closed until mid-February 2003, Gone Astray, Gone Astray between branches, Gone Astray for a Long Time, Lost, Lost and Paid for, Material Long Overdue, Missing titles Discovered in weeding, Undergoing repair, Unknown. As for the item category, my personal favorite category is: Brief titles entered on the fly. All of this makes a lot more sense if you visit the MLK main branch.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Writing dialogue is hard
I've come to appreciate lately how difficult it is to write good dialogue. Despite how much we talk on a daily basis, somehow capturing the authenticity of conversation on paper is difficult, in part because the act of writing conversation is imbued with a purpose that conversation itself in its routine idleness and aimlessness does not possess.
In Thomas Wolfe's I Am Charlotte Simmons, his tome about modern-day debauchery at America's finest universities some of the dialogue borders on the implausible. The book has been criticized for depicting some characters as hopless cardboard figures, particularly the prep school alumni who are members of the most elite fraternities and sororities. This is debatable. What Wolfe most bitterly fails at, in my view, is depicting his more thoughtful characters. The intellectually curious students with whom Charlotte strikes up a rapport broadcast an unrealistic self-awareness to a point that seems utterly contrived. Take this conversation, where Adam Gellin, the student athlete tutor and college journalist who crushes on Charlotte, explains the M.O. of the intellectual members of his generation with dubious grandiloquence:
Tom Wolfe: Are you serious???
In Thomas Wolfe's I Am Charlotte Simmons, his tome about modern-day debauchery at America's finest universities some of the dialogue borders on the implausible. The book has been criticized for depicting some characters as hopless cardboard figures, particularly the prep school alumni who are members of the most elite fraternities and sororities. This is debatable. What Wolfe most bitterly fails at, in my view, is depicting his more thoughtful characters. The intellectually curious students with whom Charlotte strikes up a rapport broadcast an unrealistic self-awareness to a point that seems utterly contrived. Take this conversation, where Adam Gellin, the student athlete tutor and college journalist who crushes on Charlotte, explains the M.O. of the intellectual members of his generation with dubious grandiloquence:
[...] Students like us used to just go to graduate school and become college teachers. But after that, a new type of intellectual comes on the scene: the bad ass. The bad-ass is sort of a rogue intellectual. A bad-ass doesn't want to do anything so boring and low-paid and like...codified...as teaching [...] You're an intellectual, but you want to operate on a higher level. This is a new millenium, and you want to be a member of the millenial aristocracy, which is a meritocracy, but an aristo-meritocracy.
Tom Wolfe: Are you serious???
Friday, April 27, 2007
Review: Death of a President
Never has a movie filled me with such a feeling of dread as Death of a President, the chilling mockumentary that explores the morbid question of what would happen were George W. Bush assassinated. Splicing real footage together to depict the fatal assassination that follows a run-of-the-mill presidential appearance in front of business leaders in Chicago and the incredibly plausible reaction--an almost-immediate round-up of a suspect with a vague Al-Quaeda link who provides an excuse for new President Cheney (shudder) to go after dictatorship du jour Syria, the fortification and permanent passage of the Patriot Act, the idealization by political leaders of a late President Bush--Death of a President imparts the eeriness of living in a creeping surveillance state that is further egged on with each national tragedy.
Death of a President also paints a nuanced picture of the presidential assassin. The group of American presidential assassins and would-be assassins held idiosyncratic motives for their actions, almost invariably apart from the controversies of the day. In Death of a President, the most obvious suspect, the one whose motives so perfectly draw out the political issues of the day is immediately suspected, the unwitting victim of projection, in this case, of American society's need to bring feel-good closure to the war on terror.
The build-up to the assassination, featuring montages of a protest in Chicago's Loop with clips of a Bush speech on North Korea, is the least interesting sequence of this film. However, the denouement following the Bush assassination is gripping. Interviews with a Secret Service agent who bemoans the security hole that allows the assassination and with an overzealous but hesitant federal prosecutor seem realistic. The truth that eventually emerges about the assassination amounts to just the sort of tragedy caused by fighting in a war and untreated mental health conditions to which we are too accustomed. This one is definitely worth seeing.
Death of a President also paints a nuanced picture of the presidential assassin. The group of American presidential assassins and would-be assassins held idiosyncratic motives for their actions, almost invariably apart from the controversies of the day. In Death of a President, the most obvious suspect, the one whose motives so perfectly draw out the political issues of the day is immediately suspected, the unwitting victim of projection, in this case, of American society's need to bring feel-good closure to the war on terror.
The build-up to the assassination, featuring montages of a protest in Chicago's Loop with clips of a Bush speech on North Korea, is the least interesting sequence of this film. However, the denouement following the Bush assassination is gripping. Interviews with a Secret Service agent who bemoans the security hole that allows the assassination and with an overzealous but hesitant federal prosecutor seem realistic. The truth that eventually emerges about the assassination amounts to just the sort of tragedy caused by fighting in a war and untreated mental health conditions to which we are too accustomed. This one is definitely worth seeing.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Book Review: Three Dollars
I just finished this one today and wrote a review on goodreads that I will include here too.
This is one of the best novels I've read in a long time, possibly one of the best I've read. Australian writer Elliot Pearlman's Eddie Harnovey is a decent man living in increasingly bankrupt times (i.e., now). He and his wife Tanya are young, aspiring professionals who find their truth-seeking inclinations stymied by the corporatist, deregulating world around them. The seismic shift of priorities that Western governments, particularly English-speaking ones, embraced in the 80s in the name of imparting "personal responsibility" exacts the sort of devastating toll on hard-working, well-meaning people that those gung-ho Reaganite/Thatcherites purport is impossible, the toll of defaulted mortage payments, perennial unemployment and untreated medical conditions. The tale of such unmitigated despair is perversely readable, and much of that owes to the acuity and perspicasiouness of Pearlman's writing.
Pearlman gets so much right: office life ("Each day, I would say 'good morning' to the same people I said it to the day before. There were 'in' jokes about the standard of the coffee, the football tipping competition, or somebody's outrageous tie. Lunch was snatched hurriedly from the place next door, a little cafe where the regulars from the department jokes with the proprietor and his staff, small jokes, small business, small change, but these people were immensely important to each other. It might be that none of them were aware of their importance, each to the other, and it took me awhile to realize it myself but with each 'good morning' they were reminding each other, just slightly, who they were and that they were there" page 84), the transition into adulthood ([...] dinner parties had come upon us stealthily, imperceptibly, like winter and old age...[they] take hold of you like a virus and before too long you are a pregnant couple admiring vases and crystal decanters in shop windows and discounting the monetary cost of cnadlesticks because they are so lovely and because no one else will" p. 127), the strain differences in ideology and worldview can exact on friendships (see the arguments between Tanya and the couples' friend, Paul), the moral bankruptcy of modern institutions ("The universities seemed to her at the vanguard of society's unraveling. But I knew better because I was not there. They were not the first to retreat from what they had once stood for, they were not the first to turn their backs on any notion of common good and to prostiute themselves; they were not the first to promote a meaningless langauge designed to preserve their own pseudocultural and economic fiefdoms[...]But if the universities were not the first, neither were they the last" p. 248), the penchant au courant for seeing the world through the lens of silly corporatist platitudes ("The world was in the hands of animated self-parodies delivering Dale Carnegie wisodm to the bewildered mountain of their own banality." p. 293), among other things.
Pearlman masterfully weaves a story of conflict between people and their principles, especially as it comes out when young, educated people become professional and find that their careers drive them to embrace opposing values. We all need to justify ourselves and our priorities; often enough, such self-justification reaches a discomfiting cold-heartedness that frowns upon the behavior of friends in the name of adhering to one's principles.
My biggest criticism: I wondered whether the dialogue ascribed to the narrator as a child was realistic for someone that young.
This is one of the best novels I've read in a long time, possibly one of the best I've read. Australian writer Elliot Pearlman's Eddie Harnovey is a decent man living in increasingly bankrupt times (i.e., now). He and his wife Tanya are young, aspiring professionals who find their truth-seeking inclinations stymied by the corporatist, deregulating world around them. The seismic shift of priorities that Western governments, particularly English-speaking ones, embraced in the 80s in the name of imparting "personal responsibility" exacts the sort of devastating toll on hard-working, well-meaning people that those gung-ho Reaganite/Thatcherites purport is impossible, the toll of defaulted mortage payments, perennial unemployment and untreated medical conditions. The tale of such unmitigated despair is perversely readable, and much of that owes to the acuity and perspicasiouness of Pearlman's writing.
Pearlman gets so much right: office life ("Each day, I would say 'good morning' to the same people I said it to the day before. There were 'in' jokes about the standard of the coffee, the football tipping competition, or somebody's outrageous tie. Lunch was snatched hurriedly from the place next door, a little cafe where the regulars from the department jokes with the proprietor and his staff, small jokes, small business, small change, but these people were immensely important to each other. It might be that none of them were aware of their importance, each to the other, and it took me awhile to realize it myself but with each 'good morning' they were reminding each other, just slightly, who they were and that they were there" page 84), the transition into adulthood ([...] dinner parties had come upon us stealthily, imperceptibly, like winter and old age...[they] take hold of you like a virus and before too long you are a pregnant couple admiring vases and crystal decanters in shop windows and discounting the monetary cost of cnadlesticks because they are so lovely and because no one else will" p. 127), the strain differences in ideology and worldview can exact on friendships (see the arguments between Tanya and the couples' friend, Paul), the moral bankruptcy of modern institutions ("The universities seemed to her at the vanguard of society's unraveling. But I knew better because I was not there. They were not the first to retreat from what they had once stood for, they were not the first to turn their backs on any notion of common good and to prostiute themselves; they were not the first to promote a meaningless langauge designed to preserve their own pseudocultural and economic fiefdoms[...]But if the universities were not the first, neither were they the last" p. 248), the penchant au courant for seeing the world through the lens of silly corporatist platitudes ("The world was in the hands of animated self-parodies delivering Dale Carnegie wisodm to the bewildered mountain of their own banality." p. 293), among other things.
Pearlman masterfully weaves a story of conflict between people and their principles, especially as it comes out when young, educated people become professional and find that their careers drive them to embrace opposing values. We all need to justify ourselves and our priorities; often enough, such self-justification reaches a discomfiting cold-heartedness that frowns upon the behavior of friends in the name of adhering to one's principles.
My biggest criticism: I wondered whether the dialogue ascribed to the narrator as a child was realistic for someone that young.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Ephemerality in Movies and Life
One promise that D.C. residents make to transplants is that the spring and fall are beautiful and for those bursts of pink blossoms and golden leaves it is worth it to weather the stultifyingly humid summer and "cold" winter. Spring here is indeed beautiful but poignantly fleeting. Those famed cherry blossoms are here one minute, gone the next. I waded through the fallen flowers twice this week under the grove of those still attached to their trees and thought a bit about transience (while I wasn't busy ducking out of the way of family photos).
I finally saw Lost in Translation, which tells a story about transience. The relationship between Charlotte (Scarlett Johanssen) and Bob Harris (Bill Murray) is impossibly pure, the age discrepancy is almost an afterthought, because both characters are themselves fully aware of it, especially Bob. One of my favorite illustrations of this is the overhead shot of Bob lying stick straight on his back in his hotel bed while Charlotte is rolled over on her left shoulder, knees bent towards her stomach, facing in towards Bob. Yet, Charlotte and Bob go no further; their relationship remains innocent, a meeting of two people yearning for something that goes even beyond the other. In a way, Bob is just as much a model to Charlotte as he is a potential mate--especially as it becomes clear that their union is short-lived. He has navigated through the apathy that Charlotte presently faces and has appreciated those moments of meaning, as he reveals when he recounts the day his first child was born the "most terrifying day" of his life.
Lost in Translation to me had the feel of a mature rendition of the themes in The Graduate. Where in the latter, Dustin Hoffman's brilliantly-played Benjamin Braddock single-mindedly set out to win the affection of Elaine Robinson (Katharine Ross) so that it became an end in itself, Bob's sense of the transitory nature of affection hovers around his interactions with Charlotte. This is of course attributable to his age: he has seen his marriage harden from affection to indifference at best, coldness at worst. The iconic scene in The Graduate where Benjamin and Elaine flee her wedding ceremony and collapse on the bus, destination unknown, is the end of spring, the end of cherry blossoms--forgive this sap--but it is the end of romance and the realization of romanticization. To see hopefulness and plaintiveness so effortlessly merge in film is to experience the end of spring.
I finally saw Lost in Translation, which tells a story about transience. The relationship between Charlotte (Scarlett Johanssen) and Bob Harris (Bill Murray) is impossibly pure, the age discrepancy is almost an afterthought, because both characters are themselves fully aware of it, especially Bob. One of my favorite illustrations of this is the overhead shot of Bob lying stick straight on his back in his hotel bed while Charlotte is rolled over on her left shoulder, knees bent towards her stomach, facing in towards Bob. Yet, Charlotte and Bob go no further; their relationship remains innocent, a meeting of two people yearning for something that goes even beyond the other. In a way, Bob is just as much a model to Charlotte as he is a potential mate--especially as it becomes clear that their union is short-lived. He has navigated through the apathy that Charlotte presently faces and has appreciated those moments of meaning, as he reveals when he recounts the day his first child was born the "most terrifying day" of his life.
Lost in Translation to me had the feel of a mature rendition of the themes in The Graduate. Where in the latter, Dustin Hoffman's brilliantly-played Benjamin Braddock single-mindedly set out to win the affection of Elaine Robinson (Katharine Ross) so that it became an end in itself, Bob's sense of the transitory nature of affection hovers around his interactions with Charlotte. This is of course attributable to his age: he has seen his marriage harden from affection to indifference at best, coldness at worst. The iconic scene in The Graduate where Benjamin and Elaine flee her wedding ceremony and collapse on the bus, destination unknown, is the end of spring, the end of cherry blossoms--forgive this sap--but it is the end of romance and the realization of romanticization. To see hopefulness and plaintiveness so effortlessly merge in film is to experience the end of spring.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
How to read a book
In today's Salon, Tom Lutz writes about a rash of new books that examine how one should read a novel. These books are united by their authors' distaste for academe, for the college English departments that have built a jargon-laden, "ism"-oriented discourse that perverts the true value of reading literature. Lutz does not tolerate this analysis. He remains skeptical of the "new criticism" approach which the authors of the how-to books embrace. Founded in the 1940s (though surely not wholly original), new criticism focuses on the "close read" of a text and eschews consultation of extra-textual sources--particularly biography--to analyze literature. Lutz criticizes the writers of the how-to books for clinging steadfastly to the dogmas of new criticism in order to bolster their literary authority against the academic critics.
Lutz is certainly right that it is difficult to prescribe a method in which to read and not always interesting to read the prescriptions. The insistences of the how-to writers that a good reader engages only "the text itself" is also dubious. Like many theories about the irreducible, new criticism is initially alluring but is based on some false premises, namely, the idea that a text can be distilled to "the words on a page" and nothing more. Every reader comes to a book with different experiences and therefore will extract different things from the book regardless of the fact that the words themselves are the same. What's different is the person interpreting the words. An attempt to enforce a uniform reading of literature is precisely the wrong way to broaden and enhance literary discourse and enrichment.
On the other hand, the methods of new criticism do have much to offer. In my own experience, I gained much more as a reader using close read methods like analysis of metaphor, attention to diction (word choice) and syntax (sentence structure), discernment of tone, etc. than I did reading literary criticism. Close reading requires that the student actually support claims with text-based evidence, which forces him to go beyond the vague suppositions that are often thrown around when discussing literature. Comfort in supporting one's claims with evidence is eternally valuable and should be central to the teaching of English, a discipline which its students unfortunately often struggle to find useful, even though at its best, it upholds the valuable skill of strong communication. Use of the techniques of new criticism to read promote the development of this skill and need not be shunted off, especially if they are only to be replaced by Marxist, Freudian, or feminist critiques.
One last thing that Lutz scolds the how-to-read folks for: bemoaning the "glut" of books published. One writer, John Sutherland complains of the "world in which millions of books are dumped in the marketplace at once," which like Lutz, I hardly think a problem. Isn't the easy availability of books an encouraging sign of a literate culture? Would Sutherland be happy with the opposite, a world in which few books were published? Is it even possible for any society to so refine its manuscripts so that only the great books are published, as he seems to desire? I am comfortable with an argument that the publishing industry overhypes a small selection of books and simultaneously neglects some great literature, but that does not mean that fewer books should be published. Anyone who criticizes a book glut should himself question whether he need publish yet another how-to-read a book tract.
Lutz is certainly right that it is difficult to prescribe a method in which to read and not always interesting to read the prescriptions. The insistences of the how-to writers that a good reader engages only "the text itself" is also dubious. Like many theories about the irreducible, new criticism is initially alluring but is based on some false premises, namely, the idea that a text can be distilled to "the words on a page" and nothing more. Every reader comes to a book with different experiences and therefore will extract different things from the book regardless of the fact that the words themselves are the same. What's different is the person interpreting the words. An attempt to enforce a uniform reading of literature is precisely the wrong way to broaden and enhance literary discourse and enrichment.
On the other hand, the methods of new criticism do have much to offer. In my own experience, I gained much more as a reader using close read methods like analysis of metaphor, attention to diction (word choice) and syntax (sentence structure), discernment of tone, etc. than I did reading literary criticism. Close reading requires that the student actually support claims with text-based evidence, which forces him to go beyond the vague suppositions that are often thrown around when discussing literature. Comfort in supporting one's claims with evidence is eternally valuable and should be central to the teaching of English, a discipline which its students unfortunately often struggle to find useful, even though at its best, it upholds the valuable skill of strong communication. Use of the techniques of new criticism to read promote the development of this skill and need not be shunted off, especially if they are only to be replaced by Marxist, Freudian, or feminist critiques.
One last thing that Lutz scolds the how-to-read folks for: bemoaning the "glut" of books published. One writer, John Sutherland complains of the "world in which millions of books are dumped in the marketplace at once," which like Lutz, I hardly think a problem. Isn't the easy availability of books an encouraging sign of a literate culture? Would Sutherland be happy with the opposite, a world in which few books were published? Is it even possible for any society to so refine its manuscripts so that only the great books are published, as he seems to desire? I am comfortable with an argument that the publishing industry overhypes a small selection of books and simultaneously neglects some great literature, but that does not mean that fewer books should be published. Anyone who criticizes a book glut should himself question whether he need publish yet another how-to-read a book tract.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Ellen Degeneres is dreadful and other Oscar observations
Some Oscar hosts get panned for not fitting in with the event. David Letterman, Chris Rock, and Jon Stewart come to mind. Last night's performance by Ellen Degeneres was so painful because she tried so hard to fit in, hamming it up with out and out bad jokes about the attendees and silly and desperate self-deprecation. In fact, she was at times just plain awkward. When she made a crack about the diversity of the award show's attendees, it felt as if Joe Biden were up on stage. The subsequent shot of a baffled-looking Steve Carrell said it all. A few other thoughts I had about last night's show:
- Boy do I wish Al Gore had made an announcement to run for the presidency. The stunt with Leonardo DiCaprio was pretty clever, but it would have been a real Oscar moment if a candidate announcement had been made.
- What is Jessica Biel doing at these awards? She was on "Seventh Heaven" like five years ago, right? Does that qualify one to present an Oscar? And she was in The Illusionist. Isn't that a poor man's Prestige?
- Jennifer Hudson's and Martin Scorcese's acceptances were surprisingly touching. Both seemed genuinely humbled by receiving the award which evidences once again that people in Hollywood put a lot of stock into the Oscar, even though a look back at past winners shows some stunning wins and some ridiculous oversights. Take the year 1976 when Rocky--definitely a good movie--won over Taxi Driver and Network--two great movies. If I were a perennial Oscar loser, I would comfort myself by reviewing the unremarkable group of winners of Oscar's recent past, like Best Actress Gwyneth Paltrow in 1998 and Best Picture Forest Gump in 1994. The Academy is not very discerning, often perferring the heart-rending to the subtle and themselves swayed by politics as much as by a good performance.
- Speaking of Martin Scorcese, don't Hollywood actors realize how disingenuous they sound when they lavish praise on a film impresario? By the end of the night, I'd lost count of how many times someone involved in The Departed said what they wouldn't do to work with Martin Scorcese. Scorcese's a fine director, but I think I heard someone offer to give away one of their lungs to work in a movie with him. Just once I'd like to hear someone say in public what I'm sure is said quietly at many an after party: "he hasn't made a good movie in years, and he's a jerk to work with."
- A green Academy Awards ceremony with fuel efficient limos is the height of absurdity. Can an event so prodigious and decadent really be conservationist in spirit? Okay, maybe the lights are dimmed a little and the stretch Hummers are gone, but really, the Oscars. When Hollywood actors start lobbying for mass transit in L.A. (and using it themselves!) I'll be a little more convinced.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Goodreads.com
Thanks to an inadvertent invite, I am now on Goodreads.com, a website that combines social networking with book reviewing. You can put up your own reviews of books, list books you are currently reading and those you want to read, and access your friends' reviews of books. It is a nice design, very easy to use, and definitely right up my alley. I am also reminded of the difficulty of reviewing books I have not read for awhile. I definitely have held some books as favorites that I have not read in years, so trying to express why I love(d) those books takes some serious jogging of the memory.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
A hodgepodge
Lately, I have been wanting in subjects to blog about for various reasons, and because I cannot think of anything coherent to discuss but am smarting about a few things, I'll just jump around.
I finally finished Adam Langer's The Washington Story. It has nothing to do with Washington State or Washington, D.C., (I get enough of D.C. from living here and have little desire to read a novel set here at the moment). Rather, it is set during the time that Harold Washington was mayor of Chicago, from 1982 until 1987. I went back and forth on my opinion of this book throughout it. It is definitely one of the more personal books I've read, considering that the main character worked on her high school newspaper, is a young liberal-minded person, is reform Jewish, and lives in Rogers Park, a neighborhood in Chicago. While I never lived in Rogers Park, it is the nearest Chicago neighborhood to where I did grow up, and I know it fairly well. Other parts of Chicago play a role in the book too, particularly the near South side, which was apparently just beginning to become the fashionable neighborhood it is today in the late 80s.
The Washington Story became a little too zany at times, working off the impulse that many writers seem to have of linking all of a story's characters and their fates with one another. (Maybe such a tendency should be called the Crash syndrome, after the gimmicky Oscar-winner of last year, not to say The Washington Story was inspired by that glib movie). Nonetheless, I found the writing genuine and the sense of transience that Langer conveys about human desires and dreams to ring very true. Now that I'm through with it though, I need a new novel and hopefully one that is at least as compelling. Any suggestions?
In other news, my co-worker's blog has been put on the map by none other than the Food Network's Hungry Detective, a cop named Chris Cognac who sniffs around American cities for hearty meals. The Gourmet Piggy rips into the Food Network and in the process becomes the target of Cognac. Cognac's comments are unintentionally some of the most hilarious things ever ("I have a hot cuban wife and 2 kids that love me, so there..."). I love how the web connects people so easily--could this hilarity ever have ensued without the glorious "series of tubes" we (er..Ted Stevens) call the Internet?
I finally finished Adam Langer's The Washington Story. It has nothing to do with Washington State or Washington, D.C., (I get enough of D.C. from living here and have little desire to read a novel set here at the moment). Rather, it is set during the time that Harold Washington was mayor of Chicago, from 1982 until 1987. I went back and forth on my opinion of this book throughout it. It is definitely one of the more personal books I've read, considering that the main character worked on her high school newspaper, is a young liberal-minded person, is reform Jewish, and lives in Rogers Park, a neighborhood in Chicago. While I never lived in Rogers Park, it is the nearest Chicago neighborhood to where I did grow up, and I know it fairly well. Other parts of Chicago play a role in the book too, particularly the near South side, which was apparently just beginning to become the fashionable neighborhood it is today in the late 80s.
The Washington Story became a little too zany at times, working off the impulse that many writers seem to have of linking all of a story's characters and their fates with one another. (Maybe such a tendency should be called the Crash syndrome, after the gimmicky Oscar-winner of last year, not to say The Washington Story was inspired by that glib movie). Nonetheless, I found the writing genuine and the sense of transience that Langer conveys about human desires and dreams to ring very true. Now that I'm through with it though, I need a new novel and hopefully one that is at least as compelling. Any suggestions?
In other news, my co-worker's blog has been put on the map by none other than the Food Network's Hungry Detective, a cop named Chris Cognac who sniffs around American cities for hearty meals. The Gourmet Piggy rips into the Food Network and in the process becomes the target of Cognac. Cognac's comments are unintentionally some of the most hilarious things ever ("I have a hot cuban wife and 2 kids that love me, so there..."). I love how the web connects people so easily--could this hilarity ever have ensued without the glorious "series of tubes" we (er..Ted Stevens) call the Internet?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Music and Lyrics, but no plot
I confess, I saw Music and Lyrics, starring Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. Do not admonish me too much: I did not have to pay for it at least, as it was being screened in advance of the release date for free. (I think it is officially released on Valentine's Day, conveniently enough). Only my time and incredulity at the sheer badness of Hollywood scriptwriting were spent. I saw the movie in part because my memory of enjoying Hugh Grant had eclipsed my ability to detect that the movie itself looked pretty bad. However, it did not take too long into the film to grasp this. The plot is silly, one-dimensional, and poorly-developed, though probably because there is not much of a plot to develop. 'So?' you say, 'it's a romantic comedy, it doesn't need a strong plot.' I object. Any good movie has a plot that holds up, and there are romantic comedies that are good movies. Still, a strong plot is hard to achieve, and often, romantic comedies feel they can ignore plot considerations like consistency and development in favor of shoveling feel-goodness and sugary "wit" at the audience.
Particularly disappointing was Hugh Grant's role as the washed up 80s pop singer and resident wag. As has been pointed out often enough, Grant has two characters: the stammering, clever nice guy of his earlier movies and the cad of his later ones. Sometimes the latter role has bits of the former role in it, as in About a Boy, Six Weeks Notice, and Music and Lyrics. (Yes, I've seen too many Hugh Grant movies). In the latter two movies, the stammering cad has morphed a little into a resigned but delighted sell-out whose authenticity is only wrought out of him when he meets and consummates a relationship with an earthy, hippy-ish girl. The wardrobe of Barrymore's character symbolized the true extent of her hippy authenticity, however: apparently bohemian but clearly off the rack of Urban Outfitters.
The two meet at the perfect time: Grant needs to write a song for the most successful pop star of the moment, Cora Corman, and Barrymore, who appears at his apartment to substitute for his normal plant-waterer (yes, I'm not making that up), happens to be a wordsmith, happens to reveal this talent, and happens to be persuaded by Grant's character to write a song with him. The song is everything you would expect of a two-day endeavor, but it is asserted to the audience at every turn that it is a worthy number that will be bastardized by Cora Corman. The problem is, it's a terrible song. Just as last year's Stranger than Fiction averred that the book written by Emma Thompson's character which frames the film is poised to be a masterpiece, absent any evidence that there is anything remarkable about it, so too does Music and Lyrics assert something that isn't true, but rather only expedient for the plot.
And how about that plot? By about forty-five minutes into the film, Grant and Barrymore have already written their song. The movie still needs at least a half an hour more, so it is dragged out with a couple of "twists" (they're asked to write another verse of the song, Cora Corman turns the song into a weird sitar-and-belly-dancing act). A subplot involving Barrymore's character and a college professor with whom she had an affair and soon after became a muse for an unflattering piece of fiction based on their relationship adds to the mess. And of course, Drew Barrymore is very sweet, large eyes and all. In fact, her eyes are so large, they will swallow you. The best thing about Music and Lyrics is the take-off of a 1980s music video, and that comes at the way beginning, so, if you choose to blow money on this one, prepare for the movie to get progressively worse.
Particularly disappointing was Hugh Grant's role as the washed up 80s pop singer and resident wag. As has been pointed out often enough, Grant has two characters: the stammering, clever nice guy of his earlier movies and the cad of his later ones. Sometimes the latter role has bits of the former role in it, as in About a Boy, Six Weeks Notice, and Music and Lyrics. (Yes, I've seen too many Hugh Grant movies). In the latter two movies, the stammering cad has morphed a little into a resigned but delighted sell-out whose authenticity is only wrought out of him when he meets and consummates a relationship with an earthy, hippy-ish girl. The wardrobe of Barrymore's character symbolized the true extent of her hippy authenticity, however: apparently bohemian but clearly off the rack of Urban Outfitters.
The two meet at the perfect time: Grant needs to write a song for the most successful pop star of the moment, Cora Corman, and Barrymore, who appears at his apartment to substitute for his normal plant-waterer (yes, I'm not making that up), happens to be a wordsmith, happens to reveal this talent, and happens to be persuaded by Grant's character to write a song with him. The song is everything you would expect of a two-day endeavor, but it is asserted to the audience at every turn that it is a worthy number that will be bastardized by Cora Corman. The problem is, it's a terrible song. Just as last year's Stranger than Fiction averred that the book written by Emma Thompson's character which frames the film is poised to be a masterpiece, absent any evidence that there is anything remarkable about it, so too does Music and Lyrics assert something that isn't true, but rather only expedient for the plot.
And how about that plot? By about forty-five minutes into the film, Grant and Barrymore have already written their song. The movie still needs at least a half an hour more, so it is dragged out with a couple of "twists" (they're asked to write another verse of the song, Cora Corman turns the song into a weird sitar-and-belly-dancing act). A subplot involving Barrymore's character and a college professor with whom she had an affair and soon after became a muse for an unflattering piece of fiction based on their relationship adds to the mess. And of course, Drew Barrymore is very sweet, large eyes and all. In fact, her eyes are so large, they will swallow you. The best thing about Music and Lyrics is the take-off of a 1980s music video, and that comes at the way beginning, so, if you choose to blow money on this one, prepare for the movie to get progressively worse.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Certain movies
...are overrated. I just tried to watch Last Tango in Paris, a movie that is yet more proof that unconventionality and shock for its own sake make for an unsatisfying story. Director Bernardo Bertolucci, who also made the horrendous Dreamers, is often held up as one of the best directors of film. He is certainly talented at filming, though Last Tango didn't distinguish itself markedly from the general look of its time period, which tended towards the gritty and somewhat barren. The movie is filmed in Paris, but we don't see Les Grands Boulevards, Notre Dame, or Boulveard St-Germain, or at least, we don't before the point at which I threw my hands up in despair and turned off my DVD player. Instead, Bertolucci gives us what appears to be the 14th or 15th Arrondissement, where the Metro is elevated and the streetlife is lacking. In this world, Last Tango in Paris portrays the chance meeting of an American expatriate (Marlon Brando, who looks pretty attractive and relatively slim), and a French woman. The two begin a sexual relationship that Brando insists must have no connection to anything outside of the pleasure to be derived from such a liaison. The NC-17 rating of course means that the viewer is party to the tryst, whose scenes occupy way too much of the film's otherwise tolerable--though not great--sequences. Bertolucci has a knack for grappling with the taboo, but do incest and improbable sexual relationships really need to be treated? Do we really need to see, for instance, brother and sister engaging in incest in Dreamers, multiple times? At the very least, the determined, gratuitous exposure of such practices reveal a poverty of imagination. Anyway, on top of my disappointment with what Jean-Luc Goddard films I've seen--don't worry, I haven't given up--I cannot say I am too impressed with the French and Italian new wave that often gets held up as the pinnacle of artistry. What I have seen of these films, produced in the 1960s and 1970s, pale in comparison to their counterparts being put out on the other side of the Atlantic (i.e., the U.S. of A).
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Bard Pun
Washington has officially ushered in the Shakespeare Festival, a six month long tribute to the playright who gave us the complex character (as opposed to the simple one dominated by humors). Just like Paris on the Potomac, Shakespeare's works and influence will permeate events all over the city, both large and small, expensive and cheap. It should be cool. However, one thing we must all brace ourselves for is the bad puns that periodicals love to employ, in particular those playing upon the word "bard," an epithet that refers commonly to Shakespeare and means a poet, playright or other scholar in Medieval and early Modern Great Britain. Many blogs and papers are keeping track of the events of Shakespeare Fest; meanwhile I am here to keep track of the bad, excessive puns written about Shakespeare Fest. So far, we have:
"Bard Times" The Washington Post, 1/5/07
As an aside, I'm really sad I missed last night's reading of Twelfth Night at the Kennedy Center, because Balki, i.e. Bronson Pinchot (who will forever be known as Balki) took part. Damn me.
"Bard Times" The Washington Post, 1/5/07
As an aside, I'm really sad I missed last night's reading of Twelfth Night at the Kennedy Center, because Balki, i.e. Bronson Pinchot (who will forever be known as Balki) took part. Damn me.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Top Ten Cool Things of the Year (in the U.S.)
This wasn't such a great year. The situation in Iraq deteriorated even more, and yet OJ Simpson's absurd book seemed to generate more outrage among some--namely the over employed entertainment media. So, what was great about 2006? Not a whole lot. Doing my best to remember what on earth happened this year, I'll try to extract the few cool things that did happen, in no particular order:
1. Stephen Colbert at the Annual White House Correspondents Dinner: In May, Colbert helped draw attention to an event that usually serves as a bad inside joke for a few hundred people by humorously critcizing the president's famous ego. He mocked Bush's supposed steely resolve--"Events can change; this man's beliefs never will"--cutting it down to the publicity stunt it is:
Not only was Colbert's bit itself hilarious, but it became a watershed media event. YouTube, 2006's ubiquitous website, proved especially useful in the days after the event, allowing people to access what really went down at the dinner rather than taking the mainstream media's word for it. Their word was often non-existent, because many outlets initially determined the event not newsworthy--including The New York Times and The Chicago Tribune--despite the ramifications of the event: one of the country's most clever comedians had pointedly skewered one of the most insulated of modern presidents, who was sitting just a few feet away. It should be no surprise then that the second target of Colbert's routine was the lackadaisical media--many in attendance at the dinner--who have so often failed to vigorously question George W. Bush about his agenda:
The event was remarkable for fusing politics and entertainment for constructive good, for being accessibile to a mass audience, and for serving as a jumping off point for debate about the usefulness of the media. The Colbert performance at the White House Correspondents' Dinner is perhaps the emblematic event of a year of consumer participation in newsmaking.
2. The Democratic Victory in the 2006 Congressional Elections: One can easily imagine the media narrative that would have persisted had the Republicans maintained control of Congress after the November 2006 elections: that Americans were satisfied with the direction of the War in Iraq despite visible reservations, that the economy wasn't bad enough to require a renewed focus on growing inequity--like the recent cuts in student aid and the failure to increase the minimum wage--and that, in general, Americans were satisfied with the Republican social agenda. A wisdom that had prevailed for years changed on November 7.
Up against a gerrymandered Congress, the Democrats still won big in the House. They also managed to eke out victory in the Senate, knocking out some formidable incumbents like George Allen of Virginia and Conrad Burns of Montana. Furthermore, they won with great help from the so-called "liberal bloggers," whose fundraising, organizing, and message generating did justice to the term netroots. The Democrats in 2006 were not the Democrats of 1996, who relied upon the contributions of moneyed coffers and directed most of their energies to retaining the presidency rather than making inroads in Congress.
The new Congress is focusing on a different course in Iraq--though it is still up to the intransigent President to assume one--and on economic issues that were ignored under one-party rule. Plus, the 2006 election was also a victory against apathy, with the number of voters up in the usually less participatory midterm elections. Especially encouraging: 24 percent of Americans 18-30 voted, the largest percentage in 20 years.
3. Harvard, then Princeton and UVA, End Early Decision: In September, Harvard and then Princeton and the University of Virginia moved to end the early admission option, deciding that it favored savvier applicants from more advantaged backgrounds. Although other top schools do not yet see the need to eliminate early decision, Harvard at least brought to attention the need for universities to be attentive to the disparate sophistication of prospective students with the college application process. Although some schools, like my Alma mater Northwestern, have made some reasonable points on why early decision still suits them, it is good for universities to publicly discuss institutional inequities. Hopefully, Harvard and its peers will figure out how better to assist both low income and middle class students with the costs of their education.
4. TV Programming Continues to Improve: Although there is still drek on television--there always will be--some TV programming continues to delight. While I think some of the critics favorite shows, particularly "Weeds" and "Scrubs" are overrated, "The Office," "The Colbert Report," "The Daily Show," and HBO programming continue to shine. "The Office" was rightfully awarded an Emmy for its fantastic ability to find humor in the mundane and for the genuine performances put forth by its cast. After a reportedly bumpy first year, "The Office" figured out how to adeptly adapt the British version to reflect the nature of the American workplace in year two. (Now, there is a French and German version of "The Office," showing that the workplace is a universal source of humor, though not necessarily the same humor). Office romances, career dissatisfaction, narrow-mindedness, and the American work ethic are depicted realistically and hilariously. To think, 10 years ago, the only good things going on network TV were "Frasier," "Friends" (meh) and "Seinfeld," and the sitcom (shudder) reigned supreme. Hopefully, the cool event of 2007 will be that cable companies lose their regional monopolies and prices decrease (I wish).
5. Some Bad People Went to Prison: This year, Jack Abramoff and Jeffrey Skilling, two men who enjoyed far too much power in the 1990s, were convicted to formidable prison terms. Abramoff was convicted of conspiracy to bribe a public official, defrauding a client, and tax evasion, and was sentenced to the minimum of 10-years, in anticipation that he will cooperate with investigations of other corruption cases. He and his lobbying firm contributed to the excess of Republican-controlled Washington. Abramoff was intimately involved with disgraced former majority leader Tom DeLay, who his lobbying firm treated to trips to the North Mariana Islands, and Abramoff himself secretly funded the trips of other Republican Representatives. Abramoff's corruption is too extensive to document here, but concurrent to his demise went the careers of a lot of disgraceful people, including DeLay, Randall "Duke" Cunningham, and Robert Ney.
Jeff Skilling, former CEO of the defunct Enron Corporation might be the person most single-handedly responsible for the California electricity crisis of 2000-2001, in which the state's recently deregulated electricty grid allowed for Enron employees to manipulate the energy markets in there, causing prices to spike and supply to be unevenly distributed. Too bad Skilling can't provide redress for all of the pension plans that were decimated by the Enron collapse as well as for the electricty bills and costs incurred by the state of California during the energy crisis.
6. Immigrant Rallies Across the Nation: Often defined by their demagogic opposition, tens of thousands of immigrants and those in favor of immigrant interests rallied across the nation in April, drawing attention to their contributions and advertising their presence to Congress, which was then considering immigration reform. For a group that fills mostly the least desirable jobs in the country, immigrants get a lot of flack, despite that the United States is a nation of immigrants. A typical complaint against illegal immigrants is that they use up public services, but wouldn't pushing for legalization and thereby getting them to pay into the system be a good way to prevent this? Of course, this would have to be accompanied by pay approximating a living wage...
7. FDA Approves HPV Vaccine and Plan B OTC: The current administration has not wholly succeeded in stymieing progress of its agencies. The FDA approved the Human papillomavirus vaccine and over the counter (OTC) Plan B contraception. Though religious zealots will probably tell you otherwise, there is never anything wrong with vaccinating against a sexually transmitted disease. The idea that it encourages unprotected sex or sex in general is like saying that a flu vaccine encourages not washing one's hands. The approval of Plan B also generated controversy, but it will make an unpleasant process easier to handle for many people.
8. An Inconvenient Truth Brings More Attention to Global Warming: In a year of erratic temperatures and a hostile climate, Al Gore used his influence and celebrity for good, bringing attention to the force behind climate fluctuations. It is amazing that the existence of global warming needs such a forceful defense, even though it is not in scientific dispute, but that is why Gore's contribution was so constructive. Though of course not as watchable as a movie like Casino Royale, Gore does an admirable job of meticulously deconstructing the arguments against global warming and detailing those for it. If parts of our country are submerged under water in the not too distant future, Al Gore can (somberly) say I told you so.
9. Google Buys YouTube: In an acquisition that didn't reek of evil, the search engine giant bought out the user-generated content giant. Not only does YouTube's searchable video content model seem commensurate with Google's model, but Google appears to be an encouraging parent corporation, managing to maintain the integrity and while innovating its other acquisitions, like this here software I'm using. (Meanwhile, the telecom market is consolidated by another dispiriting merger, as AT&T's absorption of Bell South Corp. is approved by the FCC).
10. Bob Woodward's State of Denial Released: The tipping point of popular opinion against George W. Bush must surely have been reached when Bob Woodward--establishment journalist and former Bush administration cheerleader--released State of Denial: Bush at War, Part III. Woodward's book seemed to cement the view that the War in Iraq was a mistake, and that its execution was poorly managed at best, providing an indictment of all of the key actors in the administration who consistently lied and misled over the years to save face.
This was a pretty difficult list to come up with, because this was a pretty difficult year, but I know I'm forgetting things. Please comment with any additional suggestions or any recommended subtractions.
1. Stephen Colbert at the Annual White House Correspondents Dinner: In May, Colbert helped draw attention to an event that usually serves as a bad inside joke for a few hundred people by humorously critcizing the president's famous ego. He mocked Bush's supposed steely resolve--"Events can change; this man's beliefs never will"--cutting it down to the publicity stunt it is:
I stand by this man. I stand by this man because he stands for things. Not only for things, he stands on things. Things like aircraft carriers, and rubble, and recently flooded city squares. And that sends a strong message: that no matter what happens to America, she will always rebound—with the most powerfully staged photo ops in the world.
Not only was Colbert's bit itself hilarious, but it became a watershed media event. YouTube, 2006's ubiquitous website, proved especially useful in the days after the event, allowing people to access what really went down at the dinner rather than taking the mainstream media's word for it. Their word was often non-existent, because many outlets initially determined the event not newsworthy--including The New York Times and The Chicago Tribune--despite the ramifications of the event: one of the country's most clever comedians had pointedly skewered one of the most insulated of modern presidents, who was sitting just a few feet away. It should be no surprise then that the second target of Colbert's routine was the lackadaisical media--many in attendance at the dinner--who have so often failed to vigorously question George W. Bush about his agenda:
Over the last five years, you people were so good—over tax cuts, WMD intelligence, the effect of global warming. We Americans didn't want to know, and you had the courtesy not to try to find out. ... And then you write, 'Oh, they're just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.' First of all, that is a terrible metaphor. This administration is not sinking. This administration is soaring. If anything, they are rearranging the deck chairs on the Hindenburg!
The event was remarkable for fusing politics and entertainment for constructive good, for being accessibile to a mass audience, and for serving as a jumping off point for debate about the usefulness of the media. The Colbert performance at the White House Correspondents' Dinner is perhaps the emblematic event of a year of consumer participation in newsmaking.
2. The Democratic Victory in the 2006 Congressional Elections: One can easily imagine the media narrative that would have persisted had the Republicans maintained control of Congress after the November 2006 elections: that Americans were satisfied with the direction of the War in Iraq despite visible reservations, that the economy wasn't bad enough to require a renewed focus on growing inequity--like the recent cuts in student aid and the failure to increase the minimum wage--and that, in general, Americans were satisfied with the Republican social agenda. A wisdom that had prevailed for years changed on November 7.
Up against a gerrymandered Congress, the Democrats still won big in the House. They also managed to eke out victory in the Senate, knocking out some formidable incumbents like George Allen of Virginia and Conrad Burns of Montana. Furthermore, they won with great help from the so-called "liberal bloggers," whose fundraising, organizing, and message generating did justice to the term netroots. The Democrats in 2006 were not the Democrats of 1996, who relied upon the contributions of moneyed coffers and directed most of their energies to retaining the presidency rather than making inroads in Congress.
The new Congress is focusing on a different course in Iraq--though it is still up to the intransigent President to assume one--and on economic issues that were ignored under one-party rule. Plus, the 2006 election was also a victory against apathy, with the number of voters up in the usually less participatory midterm elections. Especially encouraging: 24 percent of Americans 18-30 voted, the largest percentage in 20 years.
3. Harvard, then Princeton and UVA, End Early Decision: In September, Harvard and then Princeton and the University of Virginia moved to end the early admission option, deciding that it favored savvier applicants from more advantaged backgrounds. Although other top schools do not yet see the need to eliminate early decision, Harvard at least brought to attention the need for universities to be attentive to the disparate sophistication of prospective students with the college application process. Although some schools, like my Alma mater Northwestern, have made some reasonable points on why early decision still suits them, it is good for universities to publicly discuss institutional inequities. Hopefully, Harvard and its peers will figure out how better to assist both low income and middle class students with the costs of their education.
4. TV Programming Continues to Improve: Although there is still drek on television--there always will be--some TV programming continues to delight. While I think some of the critics favorite shows, particularly "Weeds" and "Scrubs" are overrated, "The Office," "The Colbert Report," "The Daily Show," and HBO programming continue to shine. "The Office" was rightfully awarded an Emmy for its fantastic ability to find humor in the mundane and for the genuine performances put forth by its cast. After a reportedly bumpy first year, "The Office" figured out how to adeptly adapt the British version to reflect the nature of the American workplace in year two. (Now, there is a French and German version of "The Office," showing that the workplace is a universal source of humor, though not necessarily the same humor). Office romances, career dissatisfaction, narrow-mindedness, and the American work ethic are depicted realistically and hilariously. To think, 10 years ago, the only good things going on network TV were "Frasier," "Friends" (meh) and "Seinfeld," and the sitcom (shudder) reigned supreme. Hopefully, the cool event of 2007 will be that cable companies lose their regional monopolies and prices decrease (I wish).
5. Some Bad People Went to Prison: This year, Jack Abramoff and Jeffrey Skilling, two men who enjoyed far too much power in the 1990s, were convicted to formidable prison terms. Abramoff was convicted of conspiracy to bribe a public official, defrauding a client, and tax evasion, and was sentenced to the minimum of 10-years, in anticipation that he will cooperate with investigations of other corruption cases. He and his lobbying firm contributed to the excess of Republican-controlled Washington. Abramoff was intimately involved with disgraced former majority leader Tom DeLay, who his lobbying firm treated to trips to the North Mariana Islands, and Abramoff himself secretly funded the trips of other Republican Representatives. Abramoff's corruption is too extensive to document here, but concurrent to his demise went the careers of a lot of disgraceful people, including DeLay, Randall "Duke" Cunningham, and Robert Ney.
Jeff Skilling, former CEO of the defunct Enron Corporation might be the person most single-handedly responsible for the California electricity crisis of 2000-2001, in which the state's recently deregulated electricty grid allowed for Enron employees to manipulate the energy markets in there, causing prices to spike and supply to be unevenly distributed. Too bad Skilling can't provide redress for all of the pension plans that were decimated by the Enron collapse as well as for the electricty bills and costs incurred by the state of California during the energy crisis.
6. Immigrant Rallies Across the Nation: Often defined by their demagogic opposition, tens of thousands of immigrants and those in favor of immigrant interests rallied across the nation in April, drawing attention to their contributions and advertising their presence to Congress, which was then considering immigration reform. For a group that fills mostly the least desirable jobs in the country, immigrants get a lot of flack, despite that the United States is a nation of immigrants. A typical complaint against illegal immigrants is that they use up public services, but wouldn't pushing for legalization and thereby getting them to pay into the system be a good way to prevent this? Of course, this would have to be accompanied by pay approximating a living wage...
7. FDA Approves HPV Vaccine and Plan B OTC: The current administration has not wholly succeeded in stymieing progress of its agencies. The FDA approved the Human papillomavirus vaccine and over the counter (OTC) Plan B contraception. Though religious zealots will probably tell you otherwise, there is never anything wrong with vaccinating against a sexually transmitted disease. The idea that it encourages unprotected sex or sex in general is like saying that a flu vaccine encourages not washing one's hands. The approval of Plan B also generated controversy, but it will make an unpleasant process easier to handle for many people.
8. An Inconvenient Truth Brings More Attention to Global Warming: In a year of erratic temperatures and a hostile climate, Al Gore used his influence and celebrity for good, bringing attention to the force behind climate fluctuations. It is amazing that the existence of global warming needs such a forceful defense, even though it is not in scientific dispute, but that is why Gore's contribution was so constructive. Though of course not as watchable as a movie like Casino Royale, Gore does an admirable job of meticulously deconstructing the arguments against global warming and detailing those for it. If parts of our country are submerged under water in the not too distant future, Al Gore can (somberly) say I told you so.
9. Google Buys YouTube: In an acquisition that didn't reek of evil, the search engine giant bought out the user-generated content giant. Not only does YouTube's searchable video content model seem commensurate with Google's model, but Google appears to be an encouraging parent corporation, managing to maintain the integrity and while innovating its other acquisitions, like this here software I'm using. (Meanwhile, the telecom market is consolidated by another dispiriting merger, as AT&T's absorption of Bell South Corp. is approved by the FCC).
10. Bob Woodward's State of Denial Released: The tipping point of popular opinion against George W. Bush must surely have been reached when Bob Woodward--establishment journalist and former Bush administration cheerleader--released State of Denial: Bush at War, Part III. Woodward's book seemed to cement the view that the War in Iraq was a mistake, and that its execution was poorly managed at best, providing an indictment of all of the key actors in the administration who consistently lied and misled over the years to save face.
This was a pretty difficult list to come up with, because this was a pretty difficult year, but I know I'm forgetting things. Please comment with any additional suggestions or any recommended subtractions.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
The Borat debate reemerges
It being the time when film critics offer their top ten list of movies from the last year, the debate over whether the Borat movie is funny, manipulative, racist, or just plain dumb rages on. I still submit that it is highly overrated and lacks most of the humor of the television show. I have not yet seen a satisfactory rejoinder on why it is funny for Borat to wreck some harmless man's antiques or what exactly Baron Cohen is skewering about Southern gentility by re-emerging from the bathroom with a bag of feces at a dinner party. Many of the episodes in Borat seem trying, as if Baron Cohen could not get his subjects to be sufficiently ignorant, coarse, or racist without him acting obnoxious. Even then, they don't always come off badly: the befuddled shop antique owner seems helpless, the members of the Southern dining group understandably end the dinner early. The thesis of the movie--that Americans are an ignorant lot--seems to have been established before the movie was shot. On this score, Jonathan Rosenbaum of The Chicago Reader makes a good point:
To me, the interesting aspect of the television episodes of "Borat" is the inhibitions revealed even in the most bigoted of his interview subjects. When Borat is driving with a blatant anti-Semite, the man goes off on Jews in a frighteningly absurd rant, going so far as to sanction the act of rounding up Jews. He then stops himself to say that we don't do that in this country. Oftentimes, when Borat starts baiting people with questions that could incense their latent racism, he receives variations on that same response: that we do not say those things in this country. Borat's bluntness is often met with cautious reluctance to disclose true beliefs, as when he gets a Republican primary candidate to hesitantly acknowledge that the logic of his beliefs mean that Jews will go to hell. In "Borat," Baron Cohen reveals a nation where political correctness has been internalized, and this may not be such a bad thing. Borat the film appears to be getting accolades for being "offensive," but that's no feat if the clever humor of the television show is lacking.
I keep reading that this movie is a sly (or not so sly) critique of racism and intolerance based on ignorance, but Sacha Baron Cohen's apparent semi-ignorant intolerance of the Kazakhs is almost always factored out of the discussion. It's pretty easy to paint them as a pack of pathetic anti-Semites if you know nothing about them, but isn't that the kind of glibness Borat is supposedly attacking?
To me, the interesting aspect of the television episodes of "Borat" is the inhibitions revealed even in the most bigoted of his interview subjects. When Borat is driving with a blatant anti-Semite, the man goes off on Jews in a frighteningly absurd rant, going so far as to sanction the act of rounding up Jews. He then stops himself to say that we don't do that in this country. Oftentimes, when Borat starts baiting people with questions that could incense their latent racism, he receives variations on that same response: that we do not say those things in this country. Borat's bluntness is often met with cautious reluctance to disclose true beliefs, as when he gets a Republican primary candidate to hesitantly acknowledge that the logic of his beliefs mean that Jews will go to hell. In "Borat," Baron Cohen reveals a nation where political correctness has been internalized, and this may not be such a bad thing. Borat the film appears to be getting accolades for being "offensive," but that's no feat if the clever humor of the television show is lacking.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Apocalypto wasn't accurate?!?!
An article in Salon from Mayan expert Marcello Canuto about Apocalypto--nay--Mel Gibson's Apocalypto and questions over its accuracy:
Actually, I was disappointed that Apocalypto did not actually tackle head-on the downfall of Mayan civilization, whose supposed causes--pestilence, colonization, depression of trade, slave revolt--are in dispute; however, maybe it's for the best that Mel Gibosn is not the one to do this. As Canuto says of Gibsons enormous inaccuracies:
Nonetheless, I loved Apocalypto only because it was totally INSANE; and fortunately it has compelled me, as the writer hopes, to look into the real history of Maya civilization rather than trust Mel Gibson.
The movie tracks a young Mayan man who is captured in a surprise raid on his village. Forced to abandon his family, he and his companions are taken to the nearby city to be sacrificed. He manages to escape and, pursued by his captors, attempts to return to his village to save his family. During his getaway, he reaches a beach where he witnesses the arrival of Spaniards.This final scene tells us that the movie focuses on Maya society on the eve of Spanish contact in the 16th century. Yet the Maya city portrayed in the movie, central to its plot, dates roughly to the 9th century. This is akin to telling a story about English pilgrims founding the Massachusetts Bay Colony, and showing them living in longhouses described in "Beowulf." In fact, Gibson incorporates Maya images from as far back as 300 B.C. Throughout the movie, these anachronisms make Maya civilization seem timeless, and undermine the idea that the Maya could and did respond to change.
Another question I had more about the logistical accuracy of Apocalypto: how did main character Jaguar Paw so quickly and expertly find his way back to his village in the forest of the Yucatan peninsula from the city center? And who is supposed to symbolize Jesus--Jaguar Paw, or his water-birthed child? Also, why was the forest so close to the cornfields as well as the beaches that the Spaniards land on?
Actually, I was disappointed that Apocalypto did not actually tackle head-on the downfall of Mayan civilization, whose supposed causes--pestilence, colonization, depression of trade, slave revolt--are in dispute; however, maybe it's for the best that Mel Gibosn is not the one to do this. As Canuto says of Gibsons enormous inaccuracies:
If there were ever an apocalypse in the history of the Maya -- and herein lies the ultimate demoralizing irony of the movie -- it would be because of European contact. But in the movie, after two hours of excess, hyperbole and hysteria, the Spaniards represent the arrival of sanity to the Maya world. The tacit paternalism is devastating.
Nonetheless, I loved Apocalypto only because it was totally INSANE; and fortunately it has compelled me, as the writer hopes, to look into the real history of Maya civilization rather than trust Mel Gibson.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Movies I Would (Shamelessly) Like to See
December to mid-January is about the only time of the year I go to the movie theater with regularity, but right now, there are not a whole lot of promising movies out there, even though it's "Oscar Season," but there are a bunch of crazy ones churning about. These may actually be the most promising. Here's what I'm going to see if I go to the theater over winter vacation:
Mel Gibson's Apocalypto: This lengthy tale about the end of Mayan civilization seems to have been inspired by Mel Gibson's religiosity and taste for the epic. Mel is proof that full-out crazy people should be encouraged to make movies more often. Whereas an imaginative but failed movie like Waterworld probably drowned in its own ambition because Kevin Costner is too sane, Gibson's Apocalypto appears to deliver. A movie with an insane premise needs an equally insane director, and Mel is just that. Like many religious zealots, Gibson's pet obsession with the end of days and appears to have driven him to ponder how past civilizations fell in order to anticipate how exaclty the Second Coming will unfold. This is the man after all who said of his direction for The Passion of the Christ, "The Holy Ghost was working through me on this film, and I was just directing traffic." Even though a crazy man like Mel is best left to occupy himself with such thoughts, the rest of us are hardly loath to find the subject interesting. Apocalypto promises to be great whether it is good or just plain ridiculous.
Dreamgirls: Some people will probably dismiss this one right off the bat because it prominently features Beyonce Knowles in a serious acting role and purports to resurrect Eddie Murphy from the ash heap of also-rans, but the story itself is quite rich. Based on the career trajectory of the Supremes, Dreamgirls examines the difficulties endured by a pop music group because of their race and gender. Knowles and Jennifer Hudson's characters embody the dilemma faced by black musicians in the 1950s-1970s of whether to embrace blackness or appeal to an increasingly receptive white audience. Jamie Foxx plays the Berry Gordy figure who champions Knowles' ability to appeal to the latter group, while Hudson increasingly moves in the other direction. If nothing else, I am interested to find out how the movie treats these themes. (For a nice explanation of these themes, see Pop Matters' review). I'm a little worried, after all, because Dreamgirls is based on a Broadway Musical! and I haven't been much impressed with Broadway's treatment of serious subjects post-West Side Story. Still, like Apocalypto, Dreamgirls promises to be good whether or not it is actually quality or just melodrama with glittery costumes, big hair, and electrifying ballads.
Rocky Balboa: I am a fairly devoted Rocky fan, in part because I cannot actually remember how bad the later sequels were. No, I recall only the awesomely good of the Rocky series, such as the ambitious analogies between Communism's fall at the hand of democratic capitalism and Ivan Drago's fall at the hands of Rocky Balboa or the operatic travesty of Apollo Creed's death by blow to head. I can't quite conjure up the badness of the dialogue, though I'm sure it is bad enough to make even Joe Eszterhas cringe. And I only speak of Rocky IV; Rocky V is actually the nadir and conveniently the end of the series. Until now. Just as in Rocky V, Rocky is back in Philadelphia in Rocky Balboa, now widowed (Rest in Peace, Adrian), and living of humble means as a deli owner. Just as it did 30 odd years ago, the boxing ring calls Rocky back, and, still up a few brain cells, Rocky answers. Rocky Balboa runs the risk of taking already tired themes and wringing out what life is left of them; on the other hand, a movie aboutRocky in Winter could be a meditative last hurrah for the long-lasting series. We shall see.
Mel Gibson's Apocalypto: This lengthy tale about the end of Mayan civilization seems to have been inspired by Mel Gibson's religiosity and taste for the epic. Mel is proof that full-out crazy people should be encouraged to make movies more often. Whereas an imaginative but failed movie like Waterworld probably drowned in its own ambition because Kevin Costner is too sane, Gibson's Apocalypto appears to deliver. A movie with an insane premise needs an equally insane director, and Mel is just that. Like many religious zealots, Gibson's pet obsession with the end of days and appears to have driven him to ponder how past civilizations fell in order to anticipate how exaclty the Second Coming will unfold. This is the man after all who said of his direction for The Passion of the Christ, "The Holy Ghost was working through me on this film, and I was just directing traffic." Even though a crazy man like Mel is best left to occupy himself with such thoughts, the rest of us are hardly loath to find the subject interesting. Apocalypto promises to be great whether it is good or just plain ridiculous.
Dreamgirls: Some people will probably dismiss this one right off the bat because it prominently features Beyonce Knowles in a serious acting role and purports to resurrect Eddie Murphy from the ash heap of also-rans, but the story itself is quite rich. Based on the career trajectory of the Supremes, Dreamgirls examines the difficulties endured by a pop music group because of their race and gender. Knowles and Jennifer Hudson's characters embody the dilemma faced by black musicians in the 1950s-1970s of whether to embrace blackness or appeal to an increasingly receptive white audience. Jamie Foxx plays the Berry Gordy figure who champions Knowles' ability to appeal to the latter group, while Hudson increasingly moves in the other direction. If nothing else, I am interested to find out how the movie treats these themes. (For a nice explanation of these themes, see Pop Matters' review). I'm a little worried, after all, because Dreamgirls is based on a Broadway Musical! and I haven't been much impressed with Broadway's treatment of serious subjects post-West Side Story. Still, like Apocalypto, Dreamgirls promises to be good whether or not it is actually quality or just melodrama with glittery costumes, big hair, and electrifying ballads.
Rocky Balboa: I am a fairly devoted Rocky fan, in part because I cannot actually remember how bad the later sequels were. No, I recall only the awesomely good of the Rocky series, such as the ambitious analogies between Communism's fall at the hand of democratic capitalism and Ivan Drago's fall at the hands of Rocky Balboa or the operatic travesty of Apollo Creed's death by blow to head. I can't quite conjure up the badness of the dialogue, though I'm sure it is bad enough to make even Joe Eszterhas cringe. And I only speak of Rocky IV; Rocky V is actually the nadir and conveniently the end of the series. Until now. Just as in Rocky V, Rocky is back in Philadelphia in Rocky Balboa, now widowed (Rest in Peace, Adrian), and living of humble means as a deli owner. Just as it did 30 odd years ago, the boxing ring calls Rocky back, and, still up a few brain cells, Rocky answers. Rocky Balboa runs the risk of taking already tired themes and wringing out what life is left of them; on the other hand, a movie aboutRocky in Winter could be a meditative last hurrah for the long-lasting series. We shall see.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
What is art? What is good art?
I just skimmed through a book called Nobrow: The Culture of Marketing, the Marketing of Culture, by John Seabrook, who has written for The New Yorker and Vanity Fair. The book itself suffered from lack of organization and the author's over-reliance on personal anecdotes. Seabrook often tries to fit too much into his thesis, so that everything from Bill Clinton to the Helmut Lang store in New York City's SoHo neighborhood is emblematic of the "nobrow." He should have instead devoted more of this ambition to defining what nobrow culture means, which he never sufficiently does.
Nonetheless, Seabrook reintroduces a couple of challenging questions on the subject of art and what exactly it is or isn't. One question he resurrects is whether culture hierarchies are legitimate or just manifestations of upper class hegemony. My view is that, on the one hand, the old indicators that one enjoyed high culture--season tickets to the opera, patronage of the art museum, knowledge of the Western literary canon--required a certain degree of wealth. On the other hand, that which we consider high culture today has been open and accessible to the masses in the past, from orchestral concerts to Shakespeare plays. Perhaps only more recently do we categorize these performances as highbrow. Furthermore, I think judgements of quality can certainly be made about art. The process of engaging with art is intimately connected with the act of critiquing art.
Seabrook argues that this is all moot because culture today is no longer characterized by the highbrow/lowbrow duality but rather by a unified "nobrow," where what is marketable is king. To the extent that Seabrook is right about this, I believe that a new standard can be introduced to sift through the nobrow: the authenticity of the work of art. This classification may help adjudicate the argument that ensues when one side has to defend "pedestrian" tastes against another side's charges of "elitism." For instance, two music artists may be equally marketable, popular with a mass audience, and able to produce catchy music, but one artist may be eminently more authentic than the other. The latter has composed their own work where the former is produced. Using this distinction, we can discard the inauthentic--the Avril Lavignes and Britney Spears--and then go onto debate whether the authentic artists are actually good at what they do. Thus, those of us who get tarred for disliking art simply because it is popular with a mass audience can avoid such an easy charge and get to the heart of why something is or isn't good.
Nonetheless, Seabrook reintroduces a couple of challenging questions on the subject of art and what exactly it is or isn't. One question he resurrects is whether culture hierarchies are legitimate or just manifestations of upper class hegemony. My view is that, on the one hand, the old indicators that one enjoyed high culture--season tickets to the opera, patronage of the art museum, knowledge of the Western literary canon--required a certain degree of wealth. On the other hand, that which we consider high culture today has been open and accessible to the masses in the past, from orchestral concerts to Shakespeare plays. Perhaps only more recently do we categorize these performances as highbrow. Furthermore, I think judgements of quality can certainly be made about art. The process of engaging with art is intimately connected with the act of critiquing art.
Seabrook argues that this is all moot because culture today is no longer characterized by the highbrow/lowbrow duality but rather by a unified "nobrow," where what is marketable is king. To the extent that Seabrook is right about this, I believe that a new standard can be introduced to sift through the nobrow: the authenticity of the work of art. This classification may help adjudicate the argument that ensues when one side has to defend "pedestrian" tastes against another side's charges of "elitism." For instance, two music artists may be equally marketable, popular with a mass audience, and able to produce catchy music, but one artist may be eminently more authentic than the other. The latter has composed their own work where the former is produced. Using this distinction, we can discard the inauthentic--the Avril Lavignes and Britney Spears--and then go onto debate whether the authentic artists are actually good at what they do. Thus, those of us who get tarred for disliking art simply because it is popular with a mass audience can avoid such an easy charge and get to the heart of why something is or isn't good.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Movie Review: The Candidate
Michael Ritchie's 1972 film The Candidate is nothing if not prescient. An indictment of the television age and its impact on political campaigning, the film suggests that running for office makes it paradoxically difficult for the candidate to be a true public servant.
Bill McKay, played by Robert Redford, is a storefront lawyer in San Diego who helps his clients, people on the margins of society, get a leg up in the legal system. He has little influence compared to a public official, yet, McKay has no desire to run for office, even though (or because) his father (Melvyn Douglas) was once the governor of the state of California. When he is approached by a campaign operative and old schoolmate Marvin Lucas (Peter Boyle), McKay is persuaded to run for U.S. Senate only on the condition that he can say what he wants and that he will lose handily.
Indeed, the incumbent Senator, Crocker Jarmin (Don Porter) holds a safe seat. A Ronald Reagan figure, Jarmin appeals to voters by upbraiding the welfare state and the federal government, though he is not adverse to calling on its resources when his popularity is at stake. He has the folksy, hard-fighting spirit of a former football star who is eminently comfortable feigning the upstanding grandpa role. He has long been unchallenged for his seat, so he is free to parrot glib platitudes that sound logical and come off as sincere.
Then, McKay comes along, and manages to sound even more sincere. When asked what he thinks about property taxes, McKay has the temerity to respond, "I don't know." He does not shy of sounding liberal at the dawn of an era when those views are becoming subject to derision and fear-mongering. Such candor invigorates his base and helps him close in on Jarmin, to everyone's surprise. Soon, his campaign managers are urging McKay to tone down the bold talk and tread lightly so he can appeal to the undecided voters, those people who may vote for McKay because he's cute, so long as he doesn't come off as too angry.
I left The Candidate with some sadness, seeing in the script the idea that the political process insurmountably removes the modern, national politician from the people s/he campaigns to represent. Upon winning the election, McKay asks Marvin Lucas "What do we do now?" One senses that the Senator-elect knows in his heart that he made more of a difference as an unambitious lawyer than he ever will as U.S. Senator. In the television age, elected national officeholders don't make news for their ideas; instead, they are there to entertain, to carry off a persona, whether it is that of a Crocker Jarmin or a Bill McKay.
Bill McKay, played by Robert Redford, is a storefront lawyer in San Diego who helps his clients, people on the margins of society, get a leg up in the legal system. He has little influence compared to a public official, yet, McKay has no desire to run for office, even though (or because) his father (Melvyn Douglas) was once the governor of the state of California. When he is approached by a campaign operative and old schoolmate Marvin Lucas (Peter Boyle), McKay is persuaded to run for U.S. Senate only on the condition that he can say what he wants and that he will lose handily.
Indeed, the incumbent Senator, Crocker Jarmin (Don Porter) holds a safe seat. A Ronald Reagan figure, Jarmin appeals to voters by upbraiding the welfare state and the federal government, though he is not adverse to calling on its resources when his popularity is at stake. He has the folksy, hard-fighting spirit of a former football star who is eminently comfortable feigning the upstanding grandpa role. He has long been unchallenged for his seat, so he is free to parrot glib platitudes that sound logical and come off as sincere.
Then, McKay comes along, and manages to sound even more sincere. When asked what he thinks about property taxes, McKay has the temerity to respond, "I don't know." He does not shy of sounding liberal at the dawn of an era when those views are becoming subject to derision and fear-mongering. Such candor invigorates his base and helps him close in on Jarmin, to everyone's surprise. Soon, his campaign managers are urging McKay to tone down the bold talk and tread lightly so he can appeal to the undecided voters, those people who may vote for McKay because he's cute, so long as he doesn't come off as too angry.
I left The Candidate with some sadness, seeing in the script the idea that the political process insurmountably removes the modern, national politician from the people s/he campaigns to represent. Upon winning the election, McKay asks Marvin Lucas "What do we do now?" One senses that the Senator-elect knows in his heart that he made more of a difference as an unambitious lawyer than he ever will as U.S. Senator. In the television age, elected national officeholders don't make news for their ideas; instead, they are there to entertain, to carry off a persona, whether it is that of a Crocker Jarmin or a Bill McKay.
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