What a contest this year: 11 nominations for Scorsese's HUGO, and 10 for Michel Hazanavicius' THE ARTIST--a 3-D movie up against a black-and-white silent film (mostly silent, anyway) for Best Picture. Here's spectacularly visual triumph from the director that the Academy loves to snub (TAXI DRIVER lost to ROCKY/John G. Avildsen, RAGING BULL lost to ORDINARY PEOPLE/Robert Redford, and GOODFELLAS lost to DANCES WITH WOLVES/Kevin Costner--seriously, fuckin' *Costner*?...) in one corner, in the other corner a crowd-pleaser in two "out-dated" formats, silent film and b/w. Much more so than in years past, I'm not sure which way the voting will break. I could see it either way.
Both of these front-runners love movies, and if they end up splitting the Best Picture vote then I'd say the one to come from behind would be Woody Allen's MIDNIGHT IN PARIS, another love letter to a bygone era. MONEYBALL and THE DESCENDANTS are very solid films as well. All in all, there's a lot to watch for in this year's contest. Here's a brief rundown of the entries that I managed to squeeze in this year:
MIDNIGHT IN PARIS, Woody Allen
I consider Woody Allen to be the best filmmaker this country has ever produced (one of my more controversial opinions), so I was disappointed in this light, breezy comedy. It was entertaining, and very funny at some points, but I expected more from the creator of PURPLE ROSE OF CAIRO and ZELIG. Here's someone who can do magical realism, and give it a good underpinning. This time around, though, the story only really works on one level, which seems to be a lot of name-dropping about the literary scene in 1920's Paris. And he has fun with that, having Owen Wilson meet luminaries such as Hemingway, F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Dali, and Gertrude Stein. But the central character arc results in the realization that you can't live in an idealized past--which is kind of thin, but then again these characters aren't very fleshed out to begin with: it's obvious from the opening scene that Inez (Rachel McAdams) is all wrong for Owen Wilson's Gil. Watching them drift apart is pretty dull, then, compared with Gil's scenes in Paris, past or present.
But it's funny in enough parts, and the movie is winning enough. It's Woody Allen's highest grossing film to date, and I'm not one to begrudge its success. I'd say it stands a good chance at winning Best Original Screenplay, since I don't think THE ARTIST was all that hot because of its story--though I hear good things about A SEPARATION, so I won't be stunned if that's what ends up winning.
HUGO, Martin Scorsese
Yes, Scorsese has made a movie for kids. Sort of. At least there's nothing objectionable here, and a lot to behold. I'm not a big fan of 3-D, though I loved (the look of) AVATAR, this is what great filmmakers do with a new medium. The first hour, which shows young Hugo running around a Paris train station in breathtaking detail, is dazzling enough; but the second hour, which delves into the life of George Melies (Ben Kingsley), is just mind-blowing. I think this one will sweep the technical awards, and will give front-runner THE ARTIST a good run for the money. I'll put my money on this one for Best Picture.
MONEYBALL, Bennett Miller
Here's one I liked more than I thought I would. I don't follow baseball, and didn't know anything about the Oakland A's, so I watched the movie not knowing how their 2002 season would play out--I got caught up in it. I was told by a co-worker that the book is all about statistics, he thought it was unfilmable. It certainly helps when your screenwriters are Aaron Sorkin (who won last year for THE SOCIAL NETWORK) and Steven Zaillian (who won for SCHINDLER'S LIST). You certainly don't need to know much about baseball, either the game or the professional sport, to follow the story, and they keep the math in the background. All in all, I found the movie very engaging, and is further proof that Brad Pitt is an excellent actor. He could have walked through this movie, relying on his star power and good looks; as it is, he turned in a nuanced, understated performance that was fun to watch. And Jonah Hill should get credit as well: their scenes together really work.
Now, I've been following the Oscars since 1979, and eat Oscar trivia and stats, but I don't always get to see all of the nominated movies to make my own direct comparisons between them, so you could say I'm applying my own Sabermetrics to predicting the winners. Which leads me to say that unfortunately, Jonah Hill doesn't stand much of a chance in the Best Supporting Actor race, which will go to one of two 82-year-olds (Christopher Plummer for BEGINNERS, or Max von Sydow for EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE, neither of which I've seen). Then again, I've found the supporting acting categories to be the real wildcards, very difficult to predict.
THE DESCENDANTS, Allen Payne
This may be the very definition of "dramedy": a quasi-humorous take on an outright tragic situation, as George Clooney plays a wealthy Hawaiian real estate attorney whose wife ends up in a coma with too much brain damage to ever recover, so he has to take her off life support. Realizing that he is now going to be a single parent to his two daughters is hard enough; when his oldest tells him that his wife had been having an affair, he determines to meet the guy, both to see who had his wife's affections, and to let him know that she is about to die.
That's tough material, and this could have gone wrong in any number of different ways. But writer-director Allen Payne finds just the right tone, navigating this just right. The story and the actors never step wrong, and the result is a lot of good, honest laughs right along with poignant moments all around. I'm putting my money on Clooney to win Best Actor, since I was most impressed with his performance (the front-runner is Jean Dujardin for THE ARTIST). I wouldn't be disappointed if this picked up Best Adapted Screenplay over MONEYBALL.
THE ARTIST, Michel Hazanavicius
I have to say, this one may depend on just how cynical you are about moviegoing. If you're one of those--and I can sympathize--who balks at silent film, if you don't have the appreciation--or at least the patience--to watch old-school film, then skip this one. Though this movie is beautiful in every way, and has a seductive charm, I honestly don't think it would necessarily win over someone who isn't already disposed to its subject matter: early Hollywood filmmaking. But, for those willing to take the movie on its own terms, it's a wonderful (and not overly long) story set in the time when film was going from silence to sound. (Many have pointed out the similarities between this story and SINGIN' IN THE RAIN, but I have to confess to never having seen that, so I can't rightly say.) Sure, the story is melodramatic and fairly predictable--this movie hasn't seen as many movies as you have--but its innocence and simplicity are integral to its character. Unlike MAN OF THE CENTURY, a very amusing and wry attempt to bring an old-time movie character into the present, THE ARTIST plays within its own universe, never winking at the audience with any present-day sensibility. It wants to evoke the cinema of the 1920's--and it succeeds wonderfully. The photography is perfect, and along with the costumes and production design the movie is a marvel to behold. And although I'm still more impressed with HUGO, I wouldn't be disappointed if this one took top honors.
THE TREE OF LIFE, Terrence Malick
You know those European avant-garde films from the 50's and 60's, where you'd have something like, say, a shot of three people sitting in a room, not looking at each other, while a voiceover morosely intones "Love is a dog from hell", which then cuts to a ball bouncing down some stairs, then a cut to the sun being eclipsed by clouds? All very self-consciously bold and artistic?
That's TREE OF LIFE. Or, more appropriately, that's how modern viewers are going to see it: as a disjointed and confusing but visually stunning meditation on life and death and...something something. While the movie is very accomplished, and I have no doubt Terrence Malick got exactly what he was going for, I think the audience might not, since the end result is less like 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (to which it is being compared), and more like the acid sequence in the cemetery at the end of EASY RIDER. 2001 at least had a plot, as difficult as its final act was to puzzle out; here, Malick dispenses with plot and continuity altogether, and offers a pastiche of past, present, and cosmic. This movie deserves its nominations, but I can't see a KOYAANISQATSI-type film winning Best Picture or Best Director. It's up for Cinemtography (Emmanuel Lubezki), and has a good shot there, though I don't get the sense there's much momentum for it.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
IN THE DAYS OF THE COMET by H.G. Wells
I'm a huge fan of H.G. Wells; I've read most of his stuff, both the novels and the short stories. He and Jules Verne took their science very seriously, something that can't be said for later generations of science fiction writers (whatever it is that Ray Bradbury writes, it isn't science fiction, as I have yet to find any science at all in anything of his that I've read). Wells was also a good storyteller, with a grand imagination and a very good eye for detail. At times, he had a helluva sense of humor as well (see his stories "Aepyornis Island" and "The Truth About Pyecraft", two of my favorites). His political views weren't exactly subtle: THE TIME MACHINE is a pretty straightforward parable about class warfare (though he cleverly inverts things, with the parasitic elites as underground dwellers and the proletariat living carefree lives of leisure), and FIRST MEN IN THE MOON leaves off an excellent sci-fi story to veer off into a discordant epilogue where the inventor has a dialogue about humanity with the leader of the moon creatures, depicting mankind as pernicious and murderous. But generally speaking, he keeps his politics restrained and his science intriguing.
So I'm sad to report that IN THE DAYS OF THE COMET is a complete waste of time. The first half of the book describes how miserable life is for a young, ambitious socialist who resents the capitalists who run the factory slum he lives in. He wants to marry a young woman in the next township, only to see her elope with the son of a wealthy family. He vows revenge, gets a gun and chases the couple to a beach resort, planning to kill them both. All this plays out against the appearance of a rapidly approaching comet, and people are fearful that it might strike the earth.
It doesn't, but earth passes through the comet's tail, which...Wells doesn't explain very well. Something to do with the atmosphere's nitrogen and oxygen balance. Anyway, everyone loses consciousness, and when they awake the entire population of the world is suddenly nice. Socialist in the extreme, everyone collectively agrees to do away with governments and factories and slums, and all work together to make a better world. Huh.
The last few pages provide some kind of closure for the would-be romance, as the protagonist meets up again with his erstwhile beloved and her husband, and Wells intimates that in the new world order, free love (another of his social causes) would be commonplace. While I'm all for that, personally, this story is ultimately an inexplicable and unsatisfying fantasy from Wells, and I can't recommend it at all. Guess there's a reason this one isn't mentioned much among his other works.
So I'm sad to report that IN THE DAYS OF THE COMET is a complete waste of time. The first half of the book describes how miserable life is for a young, ambitious socialist who resents the capitalists who run the factory slum he lives in. He wants to marry a young woman in the next township, only to see her elope with the son of a wealthy family. He vows revenge, gets a gun and chases the couple to a beach resort, planning to kill them both. All this plays out against the appearance of a rapidly approaching comet, and people are fearful that it might strike the earth.
It doesn't, but earth passes through the comet's tail, which...Wells doesn't explain very well. Something to do with the atmosphere's nitrogen and oxygen balance. Anyway, everyone loses consciousness, and when they awake the entire population of the world is suddenly nice. Socialist in the extreme, everyone collectively agrees to do away with governments and factories and slums, and all work together to make a better world. Huh.
The last few pages provide some kind of closure for the would-be romance, as the protagonist meets up again with his erstwhile beloved and her husband, and Wells intimates that in the new world order, free love (another of his social causes) would be commonplace. While I'm all for that, personally, this story is ultimately an inexplicable and unsatisfying fantasy from Wells, and I can't recommend it at all. Guess there's a reason this one isn't mentioned much among his other works.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
SHUTTER ISLAND
When I saw MYSTIC RIVER, another movie based on a Dennis Lehane novel, I couldn't understand the central conflict of the plot: we're supposed to be guessing whether Tim Robbins' character killed that girl or not? At the time, I honestly thought "What, these two detectives [Kevin Bacon and Laurence Fishburne] have never seen NYPD BLUE or LAW AND ORDER?" I could tell right off he didn't fit the profile, didn't have a motive, and what's more, why are they worried about his injured hand when the victim was shot from a distance, and didn't show any signs of contact with the killer? The movie didn't work for me.
Neither did SHUTTER ISLAND, well-made as it is. I don't even want to hint at the plot twist at the end, but I'll say this: most movie-going audiences, especially the younger crowd, will see this coming an hour away. For anyone who's seen MEMENTO, FIGHT CLUB, ANGEL HEART, DARK CITY, VANILLA SKY, IDENTITY, JACOB'S LADDER, THE MATRIX (kinda), or any other dozen less-successful takes on the whole you-can't-trust-your-narrator gambit, SHUTTER ISLAND will seem liked warmed leftovers. Which is unfortunate, since everything else about the movie is first-rate: performances, photography, set design, music--it all worked, but the story is a dud. I take no pleasure in saying that about a Martin Scorsese movie, and though I wasn't blown away by the direction, it doesn't stand out with his usual style, only passing hints.
Let me make two recommendations here. First, the kind of spooky atmosphere they achieved here brought to mind an overlooked movie from 1999, overshadowed by THE SIXTH SENSE that year. STIR OF ECHOES was a restrained supernatural thriller, with that same sense of mounting dread.
As for truly original mind-fuck movies, check out Marc Forster's STAY from 2005. That's as good a twist ending, to a disturbingly surreal movie, as any of the others I've already mentioned. If you haven't seen it, seek it out--and pay attention to the details.
Neither did SHUTTER ISLAND, well-made as it is. I don't even want to hint at the plot twist at the end, but I'll say this: most movie-going audiences, especially the younger crowd, will see this coming an hour away. For anyone who's seen MEMENTO, FIGHT CLUB, ANGEL HEART, DARK CITY, VANILLA SKY, IDENTITY, JACOB'S LADDER, THE MATRIX (kinda), or any other dozen less-successful takes on the whole you-can't-trust-your-narrator gambit, SHUTTER ISLAND will seem liked warmed leftovers. Which is unfortunate, since everything else about the movie is first-rate: performances, photography, set design, music--it all worked, but the story is a dud. I take no pleasure in saying that about a Martin Scorsese movie, and though I wasn't blown away by the direction, it doesn't stand out with his usual style, only passing hints.
Let me make two recommendations here. First, the kind of spooky atmosphere they achieved here brought to mind an overlooked movie from 1999, overshadowed by THE SIXTH SENSE that year. STIR OF ECHOES was a restrained supernatural thriller, with that same sense of mounting dread.
As for truly original mind-fuck movies, check out Marc Forster's STAY from 2005. That's as good a twist ending, to a disturbingly surreal movie, as any of the others I've already mentioned. If you haven't seen it, seek it out--and pay attention to the details.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Oscar Homework, 2010
So it's cram time, gotta see as many of the nominees before the ceremony on March 7th. Well, here goes:
THE HURT LOCKER
Very involving--gripping, for the most part--and yet curiously unmoving. While the whole cinema-verite style was immediate and jarring, I can honestly say that I didn't feel bombarded the way I do with most action movies. Kathryn Bigelow is one of the best action directors working today, and I hope she wins Best Director. But there's no over-reaching story or plot, we're just following this unit wondering if everyone will make it to the end of their tour of duty. It's nice that they weren't trying to layer on a lot of personal drama, but without that the characters--particularly the lead character--don't seem engaging. Vivid and immediate, but impersonal. Still a great visceral experience.
THE HURT LOCKER
Very involving--gripping, for the most part--and yet curiously unmoving. While the whole cinema-verite style was immediate and jarring, I can honestly say that I didn't feel bombarded the way I do with most action movies. Kathryn Bigelow is one of the best action directors working today, and I hope she wins Best Director. But there's no over-reaching story or plot, we're just following this unit wondering if everyone will make it to the end of their tour of duty. It's nice that they weren't trying to layer on a lot of personal drama, but without that the characters--particularly the lead character--don't seem engaging. Vivid and immediate, but impersonal. Still a great visceral experience.
AVATAR
Everybody is complaining that the story is insipid and hippie-dippie. And it is, but it's in the service of a dazzling and imaginative fantasy. It's notable that of the nine Oscar nominations it has received, Best Screenplay isn't one of them, which is highly unusual. Not that I think it deserves to be, but nobody was criticizing UP for its story. Anyway, this is an exciting and inventive movie that people will be watching for years to come, and I think it deserves Best Picture.
INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
Pure Tarantino--and its greatest strength may be its greatest weakness. His genre movies all always about the movies as much as they are the genre itself: this World War II movie of his isn't about World War II, it's about World War II movies. Hell, the plot revolves around the screening of such a movie. There are some great scenes, and Christoph Waltz is the odds-on favorite to take Best Supporting Actor, but I don't think this one is likely to pick up many more, other than maybe Best Original Screenplay. I'll be laughing my ass off if this is the spoiler between AVATAR and HURT LOCKER, and Tarantino gets the Best Picture Oscar he should've gotten for PULP FICTION.
UP
This is the movie I probably have the fewest problems with, among all the contenders. It's a great kids movie, but works equally well for adults. The youngster doesn't outsmart or out-talk his elders, and not every other joke is some pop-culture reference.
UP IN THE AIR
Starts out strong, does OK, then ends weak. I like the characters, I like the set-up (I couldn't help thinking, a friendlier and less obstrusive Tyler Durden). But what's the point of this movie? To deconstruct the life and values of a man on the road? The reviews I've read all tout this movie as being a sign of our times, but I don't see that. FIGHT CLUB had a lot more to say about our cultural values.
PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL PUSH BY SAPPHIRE
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Russ Goes To the Movies, 2009--updated 2/20/9
I don't get out much anymore. Not to see many films, at least. I used to see dozens of movies a year, I followed directors and writers along with actors and actresses, kept up with everything happening in the industry. When I was a film student, back in '92 and '93, I saw upward of 70 movies a year.
Last year? I saw three. No wait, four: SHINE A LIGHT, DARK KNIGHT, GONZO: THE LIFE AND WORK OF DR. HUNTER S. THOMPSON, and THE HAPPENING. Three out of four, that's not bad. Right?
But I didn't catch any of the movies that went on to get any significant Oscar nominations, and I'm all about the Oscars: I'll beat anybody at Academy Award trivia, I've been following the Oscar races since '79, the way other guys analyze the Superbowl or the World Series.
So, if Sunday's Oscar broadcast is going to mean anything to me--and I plan on blogging it live--then I gotta do some homework.
So I've seen a Best Picture nominee a night all week, and then some. Here's what I think so far:
THE WRESTLER
Good performances and some deft direction, not much else. The story seems recycled from cliches that must date from wrestling pictures since the 30's: pro wrestler who's too old to continue, heart-of-gold stripper who can't/won't date customers, estranged kid that can't be bought off by belated apologies and heartfelt gifts, etc. All brought to life with a cinema verite quality and an attention to detail that itself may be new to the wrestling genre, but doesn't elevate the material much beyond that. Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy seeing Marisa Tomei strip for a good cause: that being fleshing out a two-dimensional supporting character into something that provides a good motivation for the protagonist. I never thought Mickey Rourke was a bad actor, WILD ORCHID notwithstanding--ANGEL HEART is one of my favorite movies, and I can't picture anyone else in the role. And he certainly does a great job here, though it's not transcendent like Langella as Nixon or Pitt as Button. So: here's hoping for Marisa.
MILK
Good, but I don't see it winning in any major categories. Looks great, though, a vivid evocation of the 70's, both in period detail and the cultural climate. And once again, Sean Penn disappears completely into a role. And like most Gus Van Sant movies, the supporting cast really stands out. Not too flashy for a biopic, which works in its favor, but its understatement makes it an unlikely choice for anything other than its acting nominations (Penn and Josh Brolin), and they're up against almost impossible competition.
SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE
I have to confess that I'm not at all taken with Indian culture (that being Asian Indian, not American Indian--I myself am a half-breed, and I find Native culture to be fascinating). I don't like Indian food, art, music, or cinema. This whole Bollywood thing is going to pass me right by. Which is not to say that I didn't like this movie, it was engrossing and had a minor epic sweep to it. Danny Boyle is kinetic enough, and knows how to structure a quirky story. But the story is farfetched and the characters too simple, kind of out of step with the stark realism in its depiction of the slums of Mumbai, and the brutality of abject poverty. Its popularity could cut either way, but my money's not on this one. Maybe Best Photography or Best Editing.
FROST/NIXON
I was surprised at how blown away I was. Never mind that Ron Howard was the same guy who did SPLASH--he also did A BEAUTIFUL MIND, not one of his best, though it won him Best Director and won Best Picture. Here, he's spot-on and no-nonsense, almost as good as his masterwork, APOLLO 13. Though I'm a big Watergate buff, I only dimly remember the Frost interviews from when I was a kid, and was never too curious. But this depiction of ten hours of videotaped talk is riveting. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at how much work went into the whole television endeavor, but I didn't expect it to make for such a fast-paced drama. Didn't seem dumbed-down at all. But the real driving force here is Frank Langella's performance as Nixon. That Oscar is his. This is the best evocation of Nixon I've ever seen, beating out Dan Hedaya in DICK and Phillip Baker Hall in SECRET HONOR. This is on par with Val Kilmer's portrayal of Jim Morrison, it's uncanny. I can see this winning for Adapted Screenplay and Best Editing.
THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
I can't believe how this movie won me over. This is my vote for Best Picture and Best Director. Certainly Best Makeup, though I thought DARK KNIGHT was goddamned impressive, too. It isn't too sentimental or cloying, like FORREST GUMP, which is its obvious comparison. It's low-key and is focused on its characters, not the historical sweep, and that makes its impact all the more subtle. I love the fact that everyone just kind of accepts the premise that the lead character is aging backwards and works with it, rather than treating it as an opportunity for cheap quirky humor. Thirteen nominations? I wouldn't have believed it til I saw it. My money's on this one.
THE READER
Even without copious nudity and sex, this would still be a knockout performance by Kate Winslet. I don't know that she'll win--and in truth, I haven't seen the other nominees in this category, but she's just amazing in a very demanding role, and she may be the one I'm pulling for most. The whole film is a real winner, a meditation on past mistakes and atonement, about missed opportunities and healing. It's a shame that this one won't win many awards tonight, as it's overshadowed by more luminous contenders.
Last year? I saw three. No wait, four: SHINE A LIGHT, DARK KNIGHT, GONZO: THE LIFE AND WORK OF DR. HUNTER S. THOMPSON, and THE HAPPENING. Three out of four, that's not bad. Right?
But I didn't catch any of the movies that went on to get any significant Oscar nominations, and I'm all about the Oscars: I'll beat anybody at Academy Award trivia, I've been following the Oscar races since '79, the way other guys analyze the Superbowl or the World Series.
So, if Sunday's Oscar broadcast is going to mean anything to me--and I plan on blogging it live--then I gotta do some homework.
So I've seen a Best Picture nominee a night all week, and then some. Here's what I think so far:
THE WRESTLER
Good performances and some deft direction, not much else. The story seems recycled from cliches that must date from wrestling pictures since the 30's: pro wrestler who's too old to continue, heart-of-gold stripper who can't/won't date customers, estranged kid that can't be bought off by belated apologies and heartfelt gifts, etc. All brought to life with a cinema verite quality and an attention to detail that itself may be new to the wrestling genre, but doesn't elevate the material much beyond that. Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy seeing Marisa Tomei strip for a good cause: that being fleshing out a two-dimensional supporting character into something that provides a good motivation for the protagonist. I never thought Mickey Rourke was a bad actor, WILD ORCHID notwithstanding--ANGEL HEART is one of my favorite movies, and I can't picture anyone else in the role. And he certainly does a great job here, though it's not transcendent like Langella as Nixon or Pitt as Button. So: here's hoping for Marisa.
MILK
Good, but I don't see it winning in any major categories. Looks great, though, a vivid evocation of the 70's, both in period detail and the cultural climate. And once again, Sean Penn disappears completely into a role. And like most Gus Van Sant movies, the supporting cast really stands out. Not too flashy for a biopic, which works in its favor, but its understatement makes it an unlikely choice for anything other than its acting nominations (Penn and Josh Brolin), and they're up against almost impossible competition.
SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE
I have to confess that I'm not at all taken with Indian culture (that being Asian Indian, not American Indian--I myself am a half-breed, and I find Native culture to be fascinating). I don't like Indian food, art, music, or cinema. This whole Bollywood thing is going to pass me right by. Which is not to say that I didn't like this movie, it was engrossing and had a minor epic sweep to it. Danny Boyle is kinetic enough, and knows how to structure a quirky story. But the story is farfetched and the characters too simple, kind of out of step with the stark realism in its depiction of the slums of Mumbai, and the brutality of abject poverty. Its popularity could cut either way, but my money's not on this one. Maybe Best Photography or Best Editing.
FROST/NIXON
I was surprised at how blown away I was. Never mind that Ron Howard was the same guy who did SPLASH--he also did A BEAUTIFUL MIND, not one of his best, though it won him Best Director and won Best Picture. Here, he's spot-on and no-nonsense, almost as good as his masterwork, APOLLO 13. Though I'm a big Watergate buff, I only dimly remember the Frost interviews from when I was a kid, and was never too curious. But this depiction of ten hours of videotaped talk is riveting. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at how much work went into the whole television endeavor, but I didn't expect it to make for such a fast-paced drama. Didn't seem dumbed-down at all. But the real driving force here is Frank Langella's performance as Nixon. That Oscar is his. This is the best evocation of Nixon I've ever seen, beating out Dan Hedaya in DICK and Phillip Baker Hall in SECRET HONOR. This is on par with Val Kilmer's portrayal of Jim Morrison, it's uncanny. I can see this winning for Adapted Screenplay and Best Editing.
THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
I can't believe how this movie won me over. This is my vote for Best Picture and Best Director. Certainly Best Makeup, though I thought DARK KNIGHT was goddamned impressive, too. It isn't too sentimental or cloying, like FORREST GUMP, which is its obvious comparison. It's low-key and is focused on its characters, not the historical sweep, and that makes its impact all the more subtle. I love the fact that everyone just kind of accepts the premise that the lead character is aging backwards and works with it, rather than treating it as an opportunity for cheap quirky humor. Thirteen nominations? I wouldn't have believed it til I saw it. My money's on this one.
THE READER
Even without copious nudity and sex, this would still be a knockout performance by Kate Winslet. I don't know that she'll win--and in truth, I haven't seen the other nominees in this category, but she's just amazing in a very demanding role, and she may be the one I'm pulling for most. The whole film is a real winner, a meditation on past mistakes and atonement, about missed opportunities and healing. It's a shame that this one won't win many awards tonight, as it's overshadowed by more luminous contenders.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Sex and Bacon Sarah Katherine Lewis
This is a must-read--but only for those with appetites, since that's what the book is about. Lewis, a Seattle native, is a former sex worker with a literal lust for life, so whether it's describing a blind date in Capital Hill or answering the question of how much bacon will satisfy her bacon craving, she evokes the sensuality of the experience with a carnal immediacy. She disdains diets and artificial foods as not satisfying natural hunger, and so only prolong the body's need; better to just trust your desires and enjoy them rather than starve yourself in whatever way. I'm a hedonist myself, so that's a life philosophy I can relate to.
But be warned: she also has a wicked scatological streak that rivals that other Sarah. In the first chapter she bemoans the fact that all her recent boyfriends seem to think she's turned on by oral-anal attention. And she has a chapter about one of her former clientele, a guy nicknamed "Baby Ruth Man" who may have been permanently warped by viewing CADDYSHACK at a young age. Now, whereas Cynthia Heimel or Laurie Notaro would recoil from this sort of stuff in Judeo- and/or Christian revulsion, Lewis understands that there are some awkward moments in life that can only really be shared if you're willing to hear about the grim details. But she avoids the common pitfall of graphic detail for its own sake, the shock-humor of the last decade or so. What she's telling you needs to be said to draw the picture, whether it's the anatomical detail of the mussel she's about to cook, or her own personal hygiene at the moment she meets an ex-boyfriend, there are things ordinarily left unsaid that can lend an immediacy and humanity that is often missing in most narratives, no matter how otherwise evocative.
A chick who tells it like it is, and makes no apologies. But if the devil is in the details, then God is too: I defy you to read her chapter on cooking mussels and not want to try it (I more or less hate shellfish, and yet somewhere for me a switch has been flipped...). And her essay on the personal quality of pasta sauce had me re-evaluating my thoughts on culinary identity, about what beyond ingredients and preparation account for a distinct style. Sure, I have my own way of doing pasta--I call it fettucine al bachelor--but I hadn't thought of it as an existential expression. The book is a pure delight: I feasted on it.
P.S. -- In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I met the author over the weekend--and she is as striking in the flesh as she is on the page. She showed me her tattoos, and schooled me in Latin--both at the same time. How cool is that?
But be warned: she also has a wicked scatological streak that rivals that other Sarah. In the first chapter she bemoans the fact that all her recent boyfriends seem to think she's turned on by oral-anal attention. And she has a chapter about one of her former clientele, a guy nicknamed "Baby Ruth Man" who may have been permanently warped by viewing CADDYSHACK at a young age. Now, whereas Cynthia Heimel or Laurie Notaro would recoil from this sort of stuff in Judeo- and/or Christian revulsion, Lewis understands that there are some awkward moments in life that can only really be shared if you're willing to hear about the grim details. But she avoids the common pitfall of graphic detail for its own sake, the shock-humor of the last decade or so. What she's telling you needs to be said to draw the picture, whether it's the anatomical detail of the mussel she's about to cook, or her own personal hygiene at the moment she meets an ex-boyfriend, there are things ordinarily left unsaid that can lend an immediacy and humanity that is often missing in most narratives, no matter how otherwise evocative.
A chick who tells it like it is, and makes no apologies. But if the devil is in the details, then God is too: I defy you to read her chapter on cooking mussels and not want to try it (I more or less hate shellfish, and yet somewhere for me a switch has been flipped...). And her essay on the personal quality of pasta sauce had me re-evaluating my thoughts on culinary identity, about what beyond ingredients and preparation account for a distinct style. Sure, I have my own way of doing pasta--I call it fettucine al bachelor--but I hadn't thought of it as an existential expression. The book is a pure delight: I feasted on it.
P.S. -- In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I met the author over the weekend--and she is as striking in the flesh as she is on the page. She showed me her tattoos, and schooled me in Latin--both at the same time. How cool is that?
Monday, August 4, 2008
How Not To See JUNO
This is an email I sent around a few weeks before the Oscars this year. JUNO is out on DVD--catch it.
Finally caught it last night. It's been getting a lot of play-up as being the sleeper hit of the year, as well as a lot of backlash criticism of being overrated and glib, including one handjob I know who dismissed the movie as "a pro-life soapbox", which, whatever else it is, it ain't: teen pregnancy here being little more than a plot contrivance, an occasion for a lot of (pretty good) one-liners and off-hand biological observations. The movie seems more interested in its musical sensibilities than in the emotional and moral realities of getting knocked up at sixteen, which is treated with all the seriousness of a nine-month head cold. Which is not to say that it'd be a better movie it had more of a conscience about teen pregnancy, or if its main character came to any profound realizations about life as a result. Writer Diablo Cody said she wanted to create a credible, smart and funny teen girl protagonist, and that's what she's done; the pregnancy is only a set-up for the movie, and it should be seen in that regard. And you will be missing something special if you don't catch it; I enjoyed it thoroughly, the worst thing I can say about it is that it's light and breezy, and occasionally sardonic. Is the dialogue just too cute and quirky? Sure. How long's it been since you saw BREAKFAST CLUB? John Hughes, Kevin Smith, Tarantino--they're all too scripted. What's more, the real Henry V didn't speak in iambic pentameter, either. It's more a question of whether you like hearing the characters talk, whether you want to spend time with them. On that count, JUNO is a pure delight. If anything, my biggest problem with the movie is that it didn't make the most of its greatest strength: the relationship between Juno and her erstwhile inseminator, Bleeker (played pitch-perfectly by Michael Cera--and where's his Oscar nomination?). The movie should have focused more on them together; instead, they only have maybe half a dozen scenes together, which are the heart and soul of the movie. And that's maybe the most formulaic thing about this otherwise bright and original comedy, that the two principals have to be kept apart til the end, at which point they'll live happily ever after. Which doesn't ring true: you're trying to tell me that after they have sex once, they don't date or even talk much for the next 12 weeks? I GUARANTEE: you invite a 16-year-old guy over to watch BLAIR WITCH PROJECT on Starz! and instead opt to fuck him on the recliner (alleviating both your virginities), and he WILL come calling again. What's more, she described sex with him as "magnificent", and said "he's great in chair", but loses all interest in her new discovery? (That's only slightly less credible than the fact that she mentions nothing about the incident to her best friend until she fails--or is it passes?--the pregnancy test.) Then once he finds out, he still has virtually no contact with her other than a few conversations in the school hallway? I feel like there's a movie here that didn't get made. Diablo Cody said that too often, the supporting role of girlfriend to a teen male character gets relegated to either a comforter or a problem; it's too bad she carried that mistake over to this story.
For all of that, however much I'd like to see a sequel (JUNO AND BLEEKER GO TO COLLEGE, or something), what's there is solid, long as you don't expect it to be on par with SAY ANYTHING or HEATHERS. It's a worthy Oscar contender, and I wouldn't be upset to see Ellen Page win over Julie Christie, and as the odd sentimental nominee for Best Picture, there's a hell of a lot more to recommend it than the usual dark horse they put up every year (did you *see* LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE? Did you have to pay?). I'm definitely pulling for Cody to win Best Original Screenplay, and if THERE WILL BE BLOOD splits the Academy vote for Picture with NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (my choice), I hope JUNO takes it.
Want to see a more involved movie about teen pregnancy? Check out Molly Ringwald's forgotten little gem FOR KEEPS. However lightly it deals with issues like post-partum depression, family disagreements, and the fact that teen pregnancy can compromise an otherwise promising college career, at least these are addressed, whereas they're conspicuously missing from JUNO's universe.
A great little film about how a pregnancy disrupts life not only in a family but a whole township is THE SNAPPER, another overlooked movie that's by turns hilarious and poignant.
RICH IN LOVE has a great supporting cast of likable characters, headed by Kathryn Erbe as a smart teenager trying to hold her family together. Genial and very observant.
The one movie that JUNO reminded me of more than any other is THUMBSUCKER, which treats ADHD about as realistically as JUNO does pregnancy. But it's got likable characters, realistic parents, and a lot of laughs.
But no teen girl story will ever beat DARIA, the first season of which I got from Scarecrow, and have been watching all week. Which is perhaps what occasioned so much thought on the subject.
Finally caught it last night. It's been getting a lot of play-up as being the sleeper hit of the year, as well as a lot of backlash criticism of being overrated and glib, including one handjob I know who dismissed the movie as "a pro-life soapbox", which, whatever else it is, it ain't: teen pregnancy here being little more than a plot contrivance, an occasion for a lot of (pretty good) one-liners and off-hand biological observations. The movie seems more interested in its musical sensibilities than in the emotional and moral realities of getting knocked up at sixteen, which is treated with all the seriousness of a nine-month head cold. Which is not to say that it'd be a better movie it had more of a conscience about teen pregnancy, or if its main character came to any profound realizations about life as a result. Writer Diablo Cody said she wanted to create a credible, smart and funny teen girl protagonist, and that's what she's done; the pregnancy is only a set-up for the movie, and it should be seen in that regard. And you will be missing something special if you don't catch it; I enjoyed it thoroughly, the worst thing I can say about it is that it's light and breezy, and occasionally sardonic. Is the dialogue just too cute and quirky? Sure. How long's it been since you saw BREAKFAST CLUB? John Hughes, Kevin Smith, Tarantino--they're all too scripted. What's more, the real Henry V didn't speak in iambic pentameter, either. It's more a question of whether you like hearing the characters talk, whether you want to spend time with them. On that count, JUNO is a pure delight. If anything, my biggest problem with the movie is that it didn't make the most of its greatest strength: the relationship between Juno and her erstwhile inseminator, Bleeker (played pitch-perfectly by Michael Cera--and where's his Oscar nomination?). The movie should have focused more on them together; instead, they only have maybe half a dozen scenes together, which are the heart and soul of the movie. And that's maybe the most formulaic thing about this otherwise bright and original comedy, that the two principals have to be kept apart til the end, at which point they'll live happily ever after. Which doesn't ring true: you're trying to tell me that after they have sex once, they don't date or even talk much for the next 12 weeks? I GUARANTEE: you invite a 16-year-old guy over to watch BLAIR WITCH PROJECT on Starz! and instead opt to fuck him on the recliner (alleviating both your virginities), and he WILL come calling again. What's more, she described sex with him as "magnificent", and said "he's great in chair", but loses all interest in her new discovery? (That's only slightly less credible than the fact that she mentions nothing about the incident to her best friend until she fails--or is it passes?--the pregnancy test.) Then once he finds out, he still has virtually no contact with her other than a few conversations in the school hallway? I feel like there's a movie here that didn't get made. Diablo Cody said that too often, the supporting role of girlfriend to a teen male character gets relegated to either a comforter or a problem; it's too bad she carried that mistake over to this story.
For all of that, however much I'd like to see a sequel (JUNO AND BLEEKER GO TO COLLEGE, or something), what's there is solid, long as you don't expect it to be on par with SAY ANYTHING or HEATHERS. It's a worthy Oscar contender, and I wouldn't be upset to see Ellen Page win over Julie Christie, and as the odd sentimental nominee for Best Picture, there's a hell of a lot more to recommend it than the usual dark horse they put up every year (did you *see* LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE? Did you have to pay?). I'm definitely pulling for Cody to win Best Original Screenplay, and if THERE WILL BE BLOOD splits the Academy vote for Picture with NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (my choice), I hope JUNO takes it.
Want to see a more involved movie about teen pregnancy? Check out Molly Ringwald's forgotten little gem FOR KEEPS. However lightly it deals with issues like post-partum depression, family disagreements, and the fact that teen pregnancy can compromise an otherwise promising college career, at least these are addressed, whereas they're conspicuously missing from JUNO's universe.
A great little film about how a pregnancy disrupts life not only in a family but a whole township is THE SNAPPER, another overlooked movie that's by turns hilarious and poignant.
RICH IN LOVE has a great supporting cast of likable characters, headed by Kathryn Erbe as a smart teenager trying to hold her family together. Genial and very observant.
The one movie that JUNO reminded me of more than any other is THUMBSUCKER, which treats ADHD about as realistically as JUNO does pregnancy. But it's got likable characters, realistic parents, and a lot of laughs.
But no teen girl story will ever beat DARIA, the first season of which I got from Scarecrow, and have been watching all week. Which is perhaps what occasioned so much thought on the subject.
The Fourth K Mario Puzo
You have to understand, I liked THE GODFATHER. Sure, it was a pulp novel, but it moved at a good pace and had a good feel for its characters. It was also fairly evocative of its time and place--though that is probably shaded by the fact that I saw the movie at least twenty times before reading the book, so there's going to be some crossover sentiment. I guess you could say that there was enough of the movie in the original book that I was impressed, and wanted to read some more of his work.
Well, FOURTH K isn't nearly as impressive. Maybe the reason they haven't made it into a movie is that it would be hard to pull off without looking a bit silly. This speculation on the presidency of a nephew of the three Kennedy brothers seems a bit fanciful, though I guess not all that far-fetched. Francis Xavier Kennedy still bears the childhood trauma of his uncles' assassinations, but tries to carry on the Kennedy spirit. Remember the "good" kind of liberal? Well, that upsets some Arab radicals enough to assassinate the Pope, as a distraction from the real Easter Day caper, the hijacking of the plane the First Daughter was travelling on (commercially, though first class, surrounded by Secret Service). When she gets killed execution-style, FXK decides to get radical and threaten to nuke the terrorists' host country. The emirate capitulates and surrenders the terrorists to US custody, but then a small nuke goes off in Times Square, and it becomes a question of Kennedyesque force of personality vs. "modern" terrorist realities.
The treatment is too facile, too workmanlike. Tom Clancy and THE WEST WING have brought an element of verite (or at least a strong sense of detail) to this kind of material, and Puzo can't match it. All of this may have been provocative back in 1990, but doesn't have much resonance now, given recent events. Absent that, it becomes a simple tale of Kennedy mystique and liberal politics, without contributing much to either. Not a bad book, but a fairly forgettable one, unfortunately.
Well, FOURTH K isn't nearly as impressive. Maybe the reason they haven't made it into a movie is that it would be hard to pull off without looking a bit silly. This speculation on the presidency of a nephew of the three Kennedy brothers seems a bit fanciful, though I guess not all that far-fetched. Francis Xavier Kennedy still bears the childhood trauma of his uncles' assassinations, but tries to carry on the Kennedy spirit. Remember the "good" kind of liberal? Well, that upsets some Arab radicals enough to assassinate the Pope, as a distraction from the real Easter Day caper, the hijacking of the plane the First Daughter was travelling on (commercially, though first class, surrounded by Secret Service). When she gets killed execution-style, FXK decides to get radical and threaten to nuke the terrorists' host country. The emirate capitulates and surrenders the terrorists to US custody, but then a small nuke goes off in Times Square, and it becomes a question of Kennedyesque force of personality vs. "modern" terrorist realities.
The treatment is too facile, too workmanlike. Tom Clancy and THE WEST WING have brought an element of verite (or at least a strong sense of detail) to this kind of material, and Puzo can't match it. All of this may have been provocative back in 1990, but doesn't have much resonance now, given recent events. Absent that, it becomes a simple tale of Kennedy mystique and liberal politics, without contributing much to either. Not a bad book, but a fairly forgettable one, unfortunately.
The Tommyknockers Stephen King
Fast. That's how I remember Stephen King described in a movie once (THE WATERDANCE, Eric Stolz as a young writer paralyzed in a bike accident). I don't know why that's the first thing that comes to mind when I try to describe King's style and/or appeal, but it fits, as the best way to characterize his writing: fast. And yet, so very detailed and comprehensive. THE STAND is one of the best modern novels I've read, and I mean that all things considered. I've read almost all of his early work, right up to CUJO, and a good portion of what came after. I'd like to say that he doesn't disappoint, but the truth is, he often does, especially in his later stuff. I picked up TOMMYKNOCKERS at one of the used bookstores I frequent. It comes from the era just before he became a cliche bordering on self-parody. When did that happen, anyway? DOLORES CLAIBOURNE made for a good movie, at least. GREEN MILE and HEARTS IN ATLANTIS didn't really do it for me, but weren't bad.
And TOMMYKNOCKERS isn't bad either, though it doesn't stand as one of his best. Never slow, though. Bobbi Anderson makes a startling discovery while clearing the land around her farmhouse in rural Maine: a bit of metal sticking up out of the ground, which gives off a curious vibe--literally. After touching it, a combination of curiosity and compulsion makes her try to dig it out, but it's much larger than it first seems. Turns out to be the edge of an alien space ship that's been buried for millions of years. And while the ship isn't alive per se, it is channeling some kind of energy and intelligence, and the effect becomes more pronounced the more of it is unearthed. There's something in the air, and it spreads to absorb the local town. Soon everyone is behaving very strangely indeed, compulsively and possessed of a superhuman intelligence. All but Bobbi's friend, a suicidal alcoholic of a poet who drops by just as things start to get weird.
It's good to read Stephen King again, truly refreshing after some of the stuff I've waded through recently. His characters are distinct but familiar, since he so clearly communicates how they think. This can make even his most insipid plot developments bearable, such as the quasi-silly ending. Still, a good read, and I look forward to the next King book I pick up.
And TOMMYKNOCKERS isn't bad either, though it doesn't stand as one of his best. Never slow, though. Bobbi Anderson makes a startling discovery while clearing the land around her farmhouse in rural Maine: a bit of metal sticking up out of the ground, which gives off a curious vibe--literally. After touching it, a combination of curiosity and compulsion makes her try to dig it out, but it's much larger than it first seems. Turns out to be the edge of an alien space ship that's been buried for millions of years. And while the ship isn't alive per se, it is channeling some kind of energy and intelligence, and the effect becomes more pronounced the more of it is unearthed. There's something in the air, and it spreads to absorb the local town. Soon everyone is behaving very strangely indeed, compulsively and possessed of a superhuman intelligence. All but Bobbi's friend, a suicidal alcoholic of a poet who drops by just as things start to get weird.
It's good to read Stephen King again, truly refreshing after some of the stuff I've waded through recently. His characters are distinct but familiar, since he so clearly communicates how they think. This can make even his most insipid plot developments bearable, such as the quasi-silly ending. Still, a good read, and I look forward to the next King book I pick up.
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Cat Who Ate Danish Modern Lilian Jackson Braun
How could I not? A series of books about a mystery-solving cat? It's a wonder that I've waited so long to actually pick up one of these. The owner of Twice Sold in Capitol Hill said she thought this was the first in the series; unfortunately, it's second, to THE CAT WHO COULD READ BACKWARDS, but this served as a reasonable introduction. It's an enjoyable enough read: Jim Qwilleran is a reporter for a newspaper in an unnamed Midwest city, whose new assignment is to start up a Saturday supplement on interior decorating. Things go wrong with the first publication: the day after the first edition hits the stands, the house profiled as the feature article gets burglarized, with half a million dollars worth of jade stolen. Something about it doesn't seem right to Qwilleran, who was a crime reporter once upon a time. He's fairly milktoast, with a cat named Koko that seems to either be psychic or just coincidentally leads him to clues that further the case.
All in all, not great mystery, not a very interesting crime. Makes for a Gregory MacDonald-type tour of interior design, without the wonderful dialogue. But the interplay between cat and owner is nice. Did I mention I like cats?
All in all, not great mystery, not a very interesting crime. Makes for a Gregory MacDonald-type tour of interior design, without the wonderful dialogue. But the interplay between cat and owner is nice. Did I mention I like cats?
The Plague Albert Camus
I heard from someone that THE PLAGUE is actually not very good Camus. For his sake, I hope so, since this book was long, dull, and near as I can tell, pointless. I'm an existentialist, but this story has me running back to Sartre, who at least is entertaining (I mean his fiction, not that BEING AND NOTHINGNESS tome: I managed two chapters or so before giving up, but if I ever want an exhaustive and confusing treatment of ontology, I'll snap it right up).
The coastal town of Oran in Algeria is beset by an outbreak of bubonic plague, and before long the government has the place under general quarantine indefinitely. The residents can't leave, and are faced daily with the possibility that they may get the plague and die. So it's the old existential chestnut: you can die at any time, so what difference does it make what you do? Never have I seen it rendered so dull and uninteresting. The characters are forgettable, the prose is detached and flat, and the story is just about non-existent. And as epidemiology goes, this is mediocre at best. Defoe did better in JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR. I'll try THE STRANGER, maybe, but I have no enthusiasm.
The coastal town of Oran in Algeria is beset by an outbreak of bubonic plague, and before long the government has the place under general quarantine indefinitely. The residents can't leave, and are faced daily with the possibility that they may get the plague and die. So it's the old existential chestnut: you can die at any time, so what difference does it make what you do? Never have I seen it rendered so dull and uninteresting. The characters are forgettable, the prose is detached and flat, and the story is just about non-existent. And as epidemiology goes, this is mediocre at best. Defoe did better in JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR. I'll try THE STRANGER, maybe, but I have no enthusiasm.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Ken Kesey
I'd heard a lot about Ken Kesey's book: that it's a counterculture classic, that Kesey had based the book on his experiences working as an orderly in an Oregon mental hospital in the early '60s, that the money he made from the book funded the Merry Pranksters. And I'd seen the movie, though I didn't particularly like it. I don't know why, since I've always loved the whole the-one-everyone-calls-crazy-is-actually-the-most-reasonable bit. CATCH-22 is my favorite book, after all. But as movies go, I thought COOL HAND LUKE was the same story, and more engaging. I'll have to read that book some time.
Anyway, the book CUCKOO'S NEST is an interesting read, since it's told from the perspective of Chief Bromden, a paranoid delusional: he describes the machinery that he thinks runs the mental ward, with the staff as robots. And that sometimes they use a fog machine to cloud up the place, so that all the patients stay lost in a haze. But while that makes for some wonderfully detailed observations, it makes for too much distance from the two main characters, Randle Patrick McMurphy and Big Nurse Ratched, so that they only function as elements of the plot, free spirit vs rigorous authority. No insights into why rebels are rebellious, or why authority has to be so rigorous. I guess that's not this story; as it is, it's rightfully a classic depiction of taking on The System, with a set of memorable
Anyway, the book CUCKOO'S NEST is an interesting read, since it's told from the perspective of Chief Bromden, a paranoid delusional: he describes the machinery that he thinks runs the mental ward, with the staff as robots. And that sometimes they use a fog machine to cloud up the place, so that all the patients stay lost in a haze. But while that makes for some wonderfully detailed observations, it makes for too much distance from the two main characters, Randle Patrick McMurphy and Big Nurse Ratched, so that they only function as elements of the plot, free spirit vs rigorous authority. No insights into why rebels are rebellious, or why authority has to be so rigorous. I guess that's not this story; as it is, it's rightfully a classic depiction of taking on The System, with a set of memorable
Civil Disobedience Henry David Thoreau
Perhaps this one suffers from anticipation: I haven't read Walden, and only know that Thoreau has a reputation for rugged individualism. And I'm all for that. But I guess I was hoping for something a little less political: Emerson on self-reliance didn't raise the issue of whether a local tax is worth avoiding--this seeming to be the substance of Thoreau's titular disobedience. He spends a single night in jail, after which his neighbors bail him out. After Eugene Debs, Martin Luther King, and Nelson Mandela, you'll have to pardon me not being impressed.
He makes some allusion to the fact that the nation at large condones slavery, which he obviously finds reprehensible. But it seems to me that since the tax he is evading is a local one, his protest as a political statement thereupon is indirect at best. Seems to me he's just indignant about having to pay a tax.
And I can kind of see his point, since he's writing from an America that has one hell of a lot less in the way of infrastructure, the primary justification for why our current tax system is necessary. But all this talk of the outdoorsy individual having no need of an overbearing government rings a little hollow, seeing as Thoreau didn't get much further into the wilderness than a few miles from Boston. He was a few decades younger than Daniel Boone: now there's someone who meant it.
He makes some allusion to the fact that the nation at large condones slavery, which he obviously finds reprehensible. But it seems to me that since the tax he is evading is a local one, his protest as a political statement thereupon is indirect at best. Seems to me he's just indignant about having to pay a tax.
And I can kind of see his point, since he's writing from an America that has one hell of a lot less in the way of infrastructure, the primary justification for why our current tax system is necessary. But all this talk of the outdoorsy individual having no need of an overbearing government rings a little hollow, seeing as Thoreau didn't get much further into the wilderness than a few miles from Boston. He was a few decades younger than Daniel Boone: now there's someone who meant it.
The Rolling Stones Robert Heinlein
With a title like that, how could I resist? Started reading it the week before the concert, October 19th. Suffice it to say, this one isn't rock and roll. A modest effort by Heinlein, about a family of eccentrics living in the lunar colony, who decide to take an extended family vacation aboard a fixer-upper spaceship they christen The Rolling Stone (Stone is their last name--cute, huh?).
Not bad, for the teen crowd of its day (published 1952), and has an amusing bit that predates Huple's cat's infamous sleeping habit in Catch-22, but overall this one won't fire your imagination.
Not bad, for the teen crowd of its day (published 1952), and has an amusing bit that predates Huple's cat's infamous sleeping habit in Catch-22, but overall this one won't fire your imagination.
War With the Newts Karel Capek
In the preface to his very unsettling short story "The Ninth of Av", Dan Simmons pointed out a bias in science fiction publishing: while most science fiction written in English is translated into other languages, very little of non-English sci-fi gets to American readers. As a result, the American audience misses out on good fiction that isn't American, Canadian, British, or Australian.
Well, here's a great example. I found this book by accident, at a used bookstore, a tattered reprint of the 1932 original. If the name Karel Capek rings a bell, it's because he's the Czechoslovakian who coined the term robot back in 1920, in his play ROSSUM'S UNIVERSAL ROBOTS. And while he may be remembered as a social commentator in the style of George Orwell or H.G. Wells, it should be noted that he has a good respect for science as it fits into his story: a Dutch sea captain in the East Indies of the 1930's happens upon a species of large salamanders, or newts, living off the shore of a particular island. They can walk upright, out of the water, for limited periods of time, have prehensile forelimbs, and can vocalize, with an impressive mimicry of human speech. But they're fairly unsophisticated (other than their penchant for building dams and artificial reefs), so once captured they make for easy, cheap labor. Capek sets up a commerce in newts as a Swiftian parable on human slave trade; and for the most part, it works very well. By the time the newts come to be integral to the world's industrial and maritime economies, there arise debates about newt rights and the role of newts in human society...just as newts begin to coalesce into what could pass for a civilization of their own. And a slave revolt can't be far behind....
I really like H.G. Wells, not so much for his social commentary (which was fairly progressive for his day) as his attention to scientific detail. Allow me to call him, and of course Jules Verne, the first writers of what can be called hard science fiction (as opposed to most of the sci-fi of the 1930's and 40's, which don't seem to be much interested in the factual or realistic basis for a given scenario--culminating in Ray Bradbury, who is just short of scientifically illiterate). I just read a book of Wells' short stories earlier this year, and I was impressed by how intriguing and inventive his ideas were. Underlying it was a subtle sense of humor, as evidenced in stories like "In the Abyss" or "Aepyornis Island"--and Capek has a similar tone. I'm very curious to read Capek's other stuff, including R.U.R., of course.
And, come to think of it, the only other modern science fiction writer I've read that's had to be translated into English was Stanislaw Lem. Oh, and Jorge Luis Borges (who's sci-fi, I'll argue that any day--). So maybe we in English could try to understand the musings of other cultures, once in a while.
Well, here's a great example. I found this book by accident, at a used bookstore, a tattered reprint of the 1932 original. If the name Karel Capek rings a bell, it's because he's the Czechoslovakian who coined the term robot back in 1920, in his play ROSSUM'S UNIVERSAL ROBOTS. And while he may be remembered as a social commentator in the style of George Orwell or H.G. Wells, it should be noted that he has a good respect for science as it fits into his story: a Dutch sea captain in the East Indies of the 1930's happens upon a species of large salamanders, or newts, living off the shore of a particular island. They can walk upright, out of the water, for limited periods of time, have prehensile forelimbs, and can vocalize, with an impressive mimicry of human speech. But they're fairly unsophisticated (other than their penchant for building dams and artificial reefs), so once captured they make for easy, cheap labor. Capek sets up a commerce in newts as a Swiftian parable on human slave trade; and for the most part, it works very well. By the time the newts come to be integral to the world's industrial and maritime economies, there arise debates about newt rights and the role of newts in human society...just as newts begin to coalesce into what could pass for a civilization of their own. And a slave revolt can't be far behind....
I really like H.G. Wells, not so much for his social commentary (which was fairly progressive for his day) as his attention to scientific detail. Allow me to call him, and of course Jules Verne, the first writers of what can be called hard science fiction (as opposed to most of the sci-fi of the 1930's and 40's, which don't seem to be much interested in the factual or realistic basis for a given scenario--culminating in Ray Bradbury, who is just short of scientifically illiterate). I just read a book of Wells' short stories earlier this year, and I was impressed by how intriguing and inventive his ideas were. Underlying it was a subtle sense of humor, as evidenced in stories like "In the Abyss" or "Aepyornis Island"--and Capek has a similar tone. I'm very curious to read Capek's other stuff, including R.U.R., of course.
And, come to think of it, the only other modern science fiction writer I've read that's had to be translated into English was Stanislaw Lem. Oh, and Jorge Luis Borges (who's sci-fi, I'll argue that any day--). So maybe we in English could try to understand the musings of other cultures, once in a while.
A Fan's Notes Frederick Exley
Here's a book I loved. Heard a lot of bad things about it before I sought out a copy; most everyone said that the narrator was a lout, and that the book was unpleasant. One guy I read on-line said that he felt dirty for having read it, and it was a book he wishes he could un-read. First heard of him from EDO, and the song "Frederick Exley": "It was the winter of my upset, I was so depressed/I wanted to jump off a bridge and end it all/Then I read your horrible little book I was so relieved/I knew had a long way down to go"
I don't get it at all. Sure, Fred Exley may be perpetually drunk and quite often irresponsible, but I don't think he's necessarily a bad person. Particularly when compared to another novel I read from the same era, John Updike's RABBIT, RUN: Harry Angstrom, now that guy's nothing but a prick. Where Updike was trying to invoke some of the restive complacency of the 1950's and 60's, Exley was out railing against it. This cost him more than a few jobs (public relations, school teacher, and a brief stint as aluminum siding salesman), led him back home to his parents' house in upstate New York for an extended stay, and landed him in a mental hospital (twice). But he's no Holden Caulfield: sure, I loved CATCHER IN THE RYE, but there's something about J.D. Salinger that's fairly superficial and, dare I say it, immature. I just read FRANNY AND ZOOEY last year, and just about hated it. I think, like Updike, Salinger tries to get at suburban angst via exhaustion, sending his characters through the paces of vapid dialogue and empty situations, to give them something to do while you as the reader get frustrated with the meaningless of it all. You can call it a character study, but at least as I read it, you're not going to like the character much if they don't get frustrated themselves.
Which is why I like Ex. He's an observer of humanity, like Ishmael or Huck Finn, in the classic tradition, always commenting on the situation he's in, but he's no hero, even in his own life. When, frequently, he finds himself doing or saying something reprehensible, he shares his thinking and motivation, tinged with a realization of how terrible he can be, but without any sort of remorse or apology. Confession, without guilt: like someone getting up at an AA meeting and telling all, but without the mea culpa. This makes him all the more human. Perhaps the best example of this, which I can easily envision as a scene in a movie, is when he gets out of the mental hospital in New York, and contacts the family of a fellow patient, about to be released, who doesn't have anywhere to go. From a payphone in Grand Central Station, he calls the man's sister and her domineering husband, and quickly realizes that they won't take him in. Whatever their history or family situation, Ex is struck by their callous disregard for a family member who needs help. He has something of a meltdown on the phone, and whether he's correctly admonishing them for their indifference or exorcising his own demons isn't clear--just like in most cases where you overhear someone going off like this. The kind of poignancy this lends to such a confrontation makes the book a real winner. But challenging, and far from perfect. That's Frederick Exley for you.
I don't get it at all. Sure, Fred Exley may be perpetually drunk and quite often irresponsible, but I don't think he's necessarily a bad person. Particularly when compared to another novel I read from the same era, John Updike's RABBIT, RUN: Harry Angstrom, now that guy's nothing but a prick. Where Updike was trying to invoke some of the restive complacency of the 1950's and 60's, Exley was out railing against it. This cost him more than a few jobs (public relations, school teacher, and a brief stint as aluminum siding salesman), led him back home to his parents' house in upstate New York for an extended stay, and landed him in a mental hospital (twice). But he's no Holden Caulfield: sure, I loved CATCHER IN THE RYE, but there's something about J.D. Salinger that's fairly superficial and, dare I say it, immature. I just read FRANNY AND ZOOEY last year, and just about hated it. I think, like Updike, Salinger tries to get at suburban angst via exhaustion, sending his characters through the paces of vapid dialogue and empty situations, to give them something to do while you as the reader get frustrated with the meaningless of it all. You can call it a character study, but at least as I read it, you're not going to like the character much if they don't get frustrated themselves.
Which is why I like Ex. He's an observer of humanity, like Ishmael or Huck Finn, in the classic tradition, always commenting on the situation he's in, but he's no hero, even in his own life. When, frequently, he finds himself doing or saying something reprehensible, he shares his thinking and motivation, tinged with a realization of how terrible he can be, but without any sort of remorse or apology. Confession, without guilt: like someone getting up at an AA meeting and telling all, but without the mea culpa. This makes him all the more human. Perhaps the best example of this, which I can easily envision as a scene in a movie, is when he gets out of the mental hospital in New York, and contacts the family of a fellow patient, about to be released, who doesn't have anywhere to go. From a payphone in Grand Central Station, he calls the man's sister and her domineering husband, and quickly realizes that they won't take him in. Whatever their history or family situation, Ex is struck by their callous disregard for a family member who needs help. He has something of a meltdown on the phone, and whether he's correctly admonishing them for their indifference or exorcising his own demons isn't clear--just like in most cases where you overhear someone going off like this. The kind of poignancy this lends to such a confrontation makes the book a real winner. But challenging, and far from perfect. That's Frederick Exley for you.
The Postman Always Rings Twice James M Cain
Didn't know what to expect with this one, but it was short--only 120 pages, more of a short story or novella. A fast read, too, about a young drifter who finds work at a roadside diner in southern California; he and the owner become friends, but of course he falls for the man's wife, and together they conspire to kill him. Cain also wrote that other definitive noir story, DOUBLE INDEMNITY (and no, film buff that I am, I've never seen it), and I may have to read that some time. His writing is very spare, almost at a Bukowski level, and while not quite as racy he's at least as blunt; I can see how this was scandalous back when it was first published, in 1934. I read Dashiell Hammett's THE GLASS KEY a while ago, as I heard it served as the basis for MILLER'S CROSSING, one of my favorite movies. Now I have to pick up some Raymond Chandler, to round out my 30's noir experience. And what do you know: James M Cain taught journalism at St John's College, my alma mater--though this was before they adopted the Great Books Program in 1937.
Autobiography Of a Fat Bride: True Tales Of a Pretend Adulthood Laurie Notaro
How could you not like Laurie Notaro? Anyone who could come up with a title like THE IDIOT GIRLS' ACTION-ADVENTURE CLUB is just about guaranteed to write a good story. In this follow-up to that first collection of anecdotes about being single and unemployed, the chain-smoking and hard-drinking Catholic girl from Phoenix gets married and settles down--much to her own surprise. Though her self-deprecating my-family-screwed-me-up-for-life hyperbole can wear thin at times, she's pretty good at finding the humor in small moments: she works herself into a panic one night when she thinks her husband is late getting home, running through all the scenarios, from a fatal car accident to an affair--only to realize that's she's misread the clock, and that in fact he's on time. This is perfect reading for a bus commute (which is how I read most of it).
Zodiac Neal Stephenson
Whatever else you want to say about Neal Stephenson, he’s not dull. This is his second book, about a punk Boston ecologist who specializes in busting the balls of the local industrial polluters, one of whom has developed a toxic waste-eating bacterium which, of course, doesn’t quite yield the intended results once released into Boston harbor. The science isn’t too hard, and the humor isn’t wry, it’s outlandish. But he doesn’t give as vivid a vision as he does in his other books that I’ve read, SNOW CRASH (an alternative present-day California where an L. Ron Hubbard-type is spreading an atavistic Sumerian computer program that lobotomizes people), or THE DIAMOND AGE (Shanghai, China, centuries in the future, is built around nanotechnology and an interactive book ends up teaching its lesson all too well). He’s always entertaining and thought-provoking; definitely worth your time.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Billy Budd Herman Melville
I was supposed to read this in college, but didn’t. Don’t know why, since I loved MOBY DICK, and this has to be Melville’s next-most-famous work. Didn’t carry me along the way that MOBY DICK did; I don’t know how many of his works have that narrative style, which is completely original and the primary reason that it’s called—rightfully—the greatest American novel. Melville’s prose is dense but rich, an integral element in this meditation on morality and justice on the high seas: a naïve young sailor strikes and kills an officer who wrongly accuses him of conspiring to mutiny, and is sentenced to hang by a morally conflicted captain. Melville’s other short stories, “Bartleby” and “Benito Cereno”, didn’t do much for me either: more than anything, this made me want to pick up MOBY DICK again.
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