People usually think they’re right. Whenever someone has developed an opinion about something, they usually will cling to that opinion longer than it makes any sense. The less information a person has, often, the stronger his dearly held opinion. Modern economics is the perfect example. People want to “fix” the economy. Republicans say that “government regulation” and taxes are the problems. Democrats say it’s “corporate greed” and there needs to be more consumer protection i.e. “bigger government.” The quotation marks are there for two reasons 1.) I don’t have a clear idea of what they mean 2.) I’m not sure anybody does. Yet people, even usually rational ones, are furious at people who hold different opinions. Even students of economics probably don’t know whether it’s more practical to move to a socialistic form of government or more towards free markets, so how can work-a-day six-pack Joe be expected to have any rational opinion about complex economic systems. This habit of clinging to opinions about which we know nothing is evil but ingrained and lives in both the educated and the stupid. It’s unfortunate that this trait is so happily exploited by political parties, but I have the sense that it’s not a new phenomenon. The drunken worker in the whiskey republic probably didn’t understand the finer points of taxation without representation. Canada and Australia have been fine under the tyrannical British rule. “Don’t Tread On Me” is exploitative and vague yet probably did far more to stir up revolt than saying, “we want a representational democracy under the rule of law.” This isn’t new. Swaying people to a specific action i.e. revolt (or more modernly, voting) is called manipulation. If, however, we go through a nuanced explanation of empirical facts leading to a near inevitable conclusion it’s called education. The latter is more difficult and can’t be done in a 30 second ad spot, if at all.
One of the current memes that is spouted by democrats is the insistence that global warming is caused by man. Like all scientific beliefs, it’s curious to cling to the tenants of global warming like it’s gospel. I heard a curious story on the radio the other day that cited concerns over the science program NOVA and the fact that it’s main supporter is Coca-Cola. Concerns arose when at the end of an episode about global warming when the narrator suggested that humans were better adapted for warmer temperatures. This seemingly innocuous (and certainly true) statement made many people concerned that the show was presenting biased information at the request of their sponsor. Most people who are convinced global warming exists, probably have no idea why they’re convinced. Scientists say so. Scientists also say Pluto isn’t a planet. They’re probably wrong. It’s not that I’m accusing scientists of fraud, but the mean temperature and the weather systems on this planet are ludicrously complicated. A record that goes back 200,000 years doesn’t actually tell us much of anything. It’s a short time geologically and evolutionarily. There is a credible theory and some supportive evidence for manmade climate change, but there is also the fact that the weather is extraordinarily complicated. I’m not interested in whether or not climatologists are right or wrong, but I am concerned with how the supposed “educated” side of the debate behaves, because they ironically treat the subject unscientifically. The whole argument is unscientific. People no longer listen to both arguments. If someone writes a book on global warming he’s chastised or applauded, but his work is only known by a few. There is also the ludicrous statement that “over 90% of scientists believe in manmade climate change,” which is truth by democracy or, if you prefer, untruth.
There are scientific debates which are resolved, like Einstein over Newton and Evolution over Intelligent Design (which isn’t a theory that needs more work, but one that is inherently unscientific because it attempts to introduce a supernatural cause into science. Science is (paraphrasing Newton), the explanation of the world by natural laws admitting no supernatural or ‘other’ cause). Global warming isn’t one of these. It’s a nascent theory that is almost certainly wildly inaccurate, and possibly wholly wrong.
It doesn’t bother me as much when non-scientific people are irrational. They don’t claim to even like science and often argue against it in principle. That is an argument for a different time. But I find it unsettling that people who argue for the proliferation of science think of science as something dogmatic and inherently true. It’s not.
What I think is most disturbing about these people is that they’re not stupid, and their unknowing hypocrisy is nearly unavoidable. It’s something everyone does. We all have so many beliefs that we cling to, some of them are beliefs we used to have real reasons for believing, but have forgotten those reason, others are completely irrational. These beliefs are necessary to function, but even though it’s hard, many of the violent disagreements we might have, can appear much differently after the process of really breaking down an opinion to see if there’s any facts to support it. It’s an easy thing to do, but difficult because when it’s most important tends to be when aggression and anger is at its peak. Uncovering all of our irrationality is futile, but people who attempt it are far more pleasant to spend time with.
It should be pointed out that I do think greenhouse gases are responsible, at least in part, for the warming of the planet, but I'm certainly not qualified to make a definitive statement.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Internet and the Generational Divide
In the past fifty years, or perhaps always, or perhaps only in America the youth dismiss the old. The 60’s were full of people who rejected the beliefs of their parents and wanted to remake the world. They succeeded in advancing social rights, but failed to fundamentally change the world. They wanted to move humanity towards a Marxist ideal; to love each other and the Earth. The 70’s were a rejection of the 60’s. Fueled by cocaine and nihilism, they saw the birth of the pornography industry and a return to materialism in the lower classes. The cultural see-saw is a part of modern American history, but over the past decade, we’ve taken a bigger turn. We’ve changed the world and the ways we interact with each other faster than ever before. Perhaps, it’s such a big step that the see-saw has broken in half. The rise of the internet and social networking is so effects who we are as people and who are friends are that’s it’s easy to think that other invention of the 20th century, from the airplane to the tv, even compare. With anything new, however, it has created something in the older generations that resembles fear, distrust and, at times, hatred.
Much of the 20th century saw the change from people going out to do things, to people watching other people do things. This happened mostly because of the radio and TV. Without instant communication, following a sports team is difficult. With the invention of the radio and TV it became easier. You could even follow your team if you lived outside of the area. These revolution forms of media were the primers for what was to come. The birth of industrial farming fundamentally changed the way we shopped and ate. Instead of craving for mama’s famous lasagna we wanted a Big Mac with cheese (available in all 50 states!). Instead of shopping at local markets, we started buying the same products, from the same manufacturers all over the world. Industrial farming, for all of its evils, let strangers enter supermarkets in cities they’d never been before and discover an array of food just like wherever they came from. The Wright brothers invented human flight. A feat so astonishing it still captivates the imagination. People could quickly travel across the globe and visit relatives in foreign countries. The world was getting closer and more connected. Then in the 90’s PC’s became popular, and shortly after the internet came. Innocuous at first, it seemed like a way to communicate letters more rapidly than the postal service. By the turning of the century, however, it was on its way to being the most revolutionary form of communication since the printing press. The advancements of the 20th century which made people more connected than ever before have been put to shame by the simple, powerful tool that is the internet (yes I’m being a bit hyperbolic, but it’s the internet and I’m allowed to).
Anything as shockingly new as the internet will have its critics. There is a strong moral argument against it in part because of moments like me tonight. I am sitting in my kitchen by myself on a Saturday night. I’ve turned down offers to go out tonight. Instead I’m tweeting quotes from some pretentious drunk guy outside (yes I see the irony of called him pretentious), checking out my friends on Facebook, writing an essay for my blog and vaguely still trying to do research for my Immunology class. Doing all this I have in front of me a drink and a computer. Two word files are open, one with a collection of notes and the other with this essay. 10 years ago this would be considered anti-social and perhaps depressing behavior. I might have to go get checked for mental deficiencies. Now, even for the young and adventurous these nights are normal. The highlights of the parties are going to be on Facebook tomorrow and I can look at them and joke with my other friends. Maybe I’ll write on some people’s walls tonight just to see how they’re doing. I’m not alone am I? I’ll check my igoogle page and see if anyone’s on and wants to IM. I went out and saw a movie at the theater today. It cost 10 dollars and I could’ve just watched Netflix instant watch instead. Or torrented whatever I wanted. It would’ve been easier and cheaper. If I played an MMORPG I could log on at any time and find internet acquaintances or friends to hang out with. Maybe, if I get really drunk and bored I’ll do some online shopping or renew my expiring license plates.
It’s easy to see why the internet can scare people. The industrial revolution first introduced us to man working in close proximity with machinery. Since that time people have always been wary of technology. William Blake and the Transcendentalists tried to get away from it, movies like the Matrix, and Minority Report exploit those same fears. Technology is, however, so incredibly useful that it stays around despite its critics. The more the internet enables us to stay connected to people, the more we find ourselves connected to our technology. With cell phones becoming increasingly internet capable, and with our Bluetooths (Blueteeth?) always in our ear, there is no doubt that Generation Y, or whatever we’re called, is going to have more interaction with machines than any other generation ever.
The internet and texting have gone hand in hand in making our communication more verbal and less vocal, but what I think critics are afraid of, aside from the cliché that they fear what they don’t understand, is that we’re losing our abilities to communicate face to face. Tools often take more control of our lives than we mean for them to, and it may be that the future will have more written language than spoken. I doubt, however, that the internet can fill our need for human contact. Much of its function so far has been in increasing our social interactions. People who struggle with day to day interactions have new pathways to find similar people who also struggle dealing with ‘neurotypicals’ as one blogger with Aspergers calls others. Those who have what used to be crippling sexual fetishes can now find other of similar taste simply by typing a few words into a search box. The internet doesn’t hinder social well being, but rather allows for people who used to be outsiders, to find a way in. What the internet has done, more than anything else in the history of humankind, is it allows people to find their niche. It provides easy way for people to interact with minorities without embarrassment and anonymously, and it allows people to explore options they never thought they had.
Another complaint against the internet is that over the past five years, privacy no longer exists. Our personal moments are less personal because all of it is recorded somewhere online. Our past will follow us on facebook. Even deleted photos will remain. It will be interesting when all of our politicians will have pictures of them doing illicit drugs and drinking heavily floating around the internet. Rumors of Presidents and bad behavior will become proof. For myself, however, I feel as though people who grew up without the internet overvalue privacy. I don’t really care that google and facebook sell my information to advertisers. While I can appreciate the fears my Dad has about it, I can’t relate to the emotions behind it.
As with every technological advancement there will be people who’ll claim that it’s the end of the world. That humanity is lost and that the soul is being destroyed by these inventions. It’s been happening for a while now, and it seems as though the people are all right. The internet might have a few drawbacks, and it might change the world, but it won’t make it so different that humanity will be unrecognizable in fifty years. The fears that humanity will be isolated by the internet seem to be the opposite of true. Through it we can be more connected to people rather than less, but sometimes that connection just looks a little different. The point is that it’s not something to be feared, but better to understand it and see how it can improve your life.
Much of the 20th century saw the change from people going out to do things, to people watching other people do things. This happened mostly because of the radio and TV. Without instant communication, following a sports team is difficult. With the invention of the radio and TV it became easier. You could even follow your team if you lived outside of the area. These revolution forms of media were the primers for what was to come. The birth of industrial farming fundamentally changed the way we shopped and ate. Instead of craving for mama’s famous lasagna we wanted a Big Mac with cheese (available in all 50 states!). Instead of shopping at local markets, we started buying the same products, from the same manufacturers all over the world. Industrial farming, for all of its evils, let strangers enter supermarkets in cities they’d never been before and discover an array of food just like wherever they came from. The Wright brothers invented human flight. A feat so astonishing it still captivates the imagination. People could quickly travel across the globe and visit relatives in foreign countries. The world was getting closer and more connected. Then in the 90’s PC’s became popular, and shortly after the internet came. Innocuous at first, it seemed like a way to communicate letters more rapidly than the postal service. By the turning of the century, however, it was on its way to being the most revolutionary form of communication since the printing press. The advancements of the 20th century which made people more connected than ever before have been put to shame by the simple, powerful tool that is the internet (yes I’m being a bit hyperbolic, but it’s the internet and I’m allowed to).
Anything as shockingly new as the internet will have its critics. There is a strong moral argument against it in part because of moments like me tonight. I am sitting in my kitchen by myself on a Saturday night. I’ve turned down offers to go out tonight. Instead I’m tweeting quotes from some pretentious drunk guy outside (yes I see the irony of called him pretentious), checking out my friends on Facebook, writing an essay for my blog and vaguely still trying to do research for my Immunology class. Doing all this I have in front of me a drink and a computer. Two word files are open, one with a collection of notes and the other with this essay. 10 years ago this would be considered anti-social and perhaps depressing behavior. I might have to go get checked for mental deficiencies. Now, even for the young and adventurous these nights are normal. The highlights of the parties are going to be on Facebook tomorrow and I can look at them and joke with my other friends. Maybe I’ll write on some people’s walls tonight just to see how they’re doing. I’m not alone am I? I’ll check my igoogle page and see if anyone’s on and wants to IM. I went out and saw a movie at the theater today. It cost 10 dollars and I could’ve just watched Netflix instant watch instead. Or torrented whatever I wanted. It would’ve been easier and cheaper. If I played an MMORPG I could log on at any time and find internet acquaintances or friends to hang out with. Maybe, if I get really drunk and bored I’ll do some online shopping or renew my expiring license plates.
It’s easy to see why the internet can scare people. The industrial revolution first introduced us to man working in close proximity with machinery. Since that time people have always been wary of technology. William Blake and the Transcendentalists tried to get away from it, movies like the Matrix, and Minority Report exploit those same fears. Technology is, however, so incredibly useful that it stays around despite its critics. The more the internet enables us to stay connected to people, the more we find ourselves connected to our technology. With cell phones becoming increasingly internet capable, and with our Bluetooths (Blueteeth?) always in our ear, there is no doubt that Generation Y, or whatever we’re called, is going to have more interaction with machines than any other generation ever.
The internet and texting have gone hand in hand in making our communication more verbal and less vocal, but what I think critics are afraid of, aside from the cliché that they fear what they don’t understand, is that we’re losing our abilities to communicate face to face. Tools often take more control of our lives than we mean for them to, and it may be that the future will have more written language than spoken. I doubt, however, that the internet can fill our need for human contact. Much of its function so far has been in increasing our social interactions. People who struggle with day to day interactions have new pathways to find similar people who also struggle dealing with ‘neurotypicals’ as one blogger with Aspergers calls others. Those who have what used to be crippling sexual fetishes can now find other of similar taste simply by typing a few words into a search box. The internet doesn’t hinder social well being, but rather allows for people who used to be outsiders, to find a way in. What the internet has done, more than anything else in the history of humankind, is it allows people to find their niche. It provides easy way for people to interact with minorities without embarrassment and anonymously, and it allows people to explore options they never thought they had.
Another complaint against the internet is that over the past five years, privacy no longer exists. Our personal moments are less personal because all of it is recorded somewhere online. Our past will follow us on facebook. Even deleted photos will remain. It will be interesting when all of our politicians will have pictures of them doing illicit drugs and drinking heavily floating around the internet. Rumors of Presidents and bad behavior will become proof. For myself, however, I feel as though people who grew up without the internet overvalue privacy. I don’t really care that google and facebook sell my information to advertisers. While I can appreciate the fears my Dad has about it, I can’t relate to the emotions behind it.
As with every technological advancement there will be people who’ll claim that it’s the end of the world. That humanity is lost and that the soul is being destroyed by these inventions. It’s been happening for a while now, and it seems as though the people are all right. The internet might have a few drawbacks, and it might change the world, but it won’t make it so different that humanity will be unrecognizable in fifty years. The fears that humanity will be isolated by the internet seem to be the opposite of true. Through it we can be more connected to people rather than less, but sometimes that connection just looks a little different. The point is that it’s not something to be feared, but better to understand it and see how it can improve your life.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Characters and People
Ron D. Moore, creator of BSG and long time Star Trek writer came onto the Voyager writing crew shortly after turning DS9 from a boring, mediocre show and making it’s final 3 or 4 seasons into some of the most consistent, entertaining and insightful episodes of Star Trek ever made. On one of his first days, as he tells the story, he was working with the other writers trying to figure out who the main characters are on the show. He asked the writers about B’leanna wondering who she is and why she behaves the way she does. She’s a conflicted character because of her half-klingon half-human genetic structure, but Moore was curious as to how she felt about he genes, and how it affected her psychology. He put up the question, “If she was in such and such situation, how would she behave.” Allegedly his fellow writers said (I’m paraphrashing) “We don’t really know. She usually behaves how we need her to for the story.” The talented Moore was unsurprisingly frustrated working for that show and left quickly to showrun BSG (this story may be apocryphal because I can’t find it, but it stuck with me because it makes so much sense).
The best tv shows are driven by strong characters. In sitcoms these characters tend to be groups of people who make us want to spend time with them. Good ensemble sitcoms make us want to hang with the group at Central Perk, drink with Norm at Cheers, work under Michael Scott at Dunder Mifflin, or hit on girls with Barney at Maclarens. TV dramas rely on their characters too. What would House be without Hugh Lauries titular character? Mad Men has a host of characters that, over time, viewers have become fascinated by. Lost spent 3 seasons developing their characters through flashback. People come back week after week to see the enrichment of these characters, and to understand who they are. Serialized entertainment nearly requires interesting characters because it’s longevity makes even the most interesting jobs of being doctors or ad execs or living on a paranormal island grow wearisome. Even in serialized literature, War & Peace uses the backdrop of the war as a playground for its ever memorable characters, and Dickens’ work is similar. Movies and shorter pieces do not require them to be compelling. Tolstoy’s Kreutzer Sonata and The Death of Ivan Ilych have forgettable characters yet both are great books. Movies sometimes use leads like those in Rear Window or Synecdoche NY, where the cast is used as mirrors for the viewer to observe himself.
Good serialized entertainment eventually gets comfortable with its premise, and relies on what remains interesting: the people it has created. This isn’t a criticism. The marathon that is TV makes it possible to have long emotional arcs ending in overwhelmingly cathartic moments. Spending so much time with these people allows us to know them more intimately than many friends because we see them in their weakest moments. We see the sides of themselves they try to hide, and knowing them so well makes these characters mostly predictable. Sometimes they defy expectation, but they surprise themselves in doing so.
Real people too, are mostly predictable. The reason we become comfortable around people is because we rely on them to react to jokes or conversational topics in expected ways. Good characters, tv or otherwise, are the same. Predictability is often thought of as boring, or a path to dystopian futures, but in reality, it adds to our enjoyment of life rather than taking away from it. People complain about their marriages and work life as routine and plain, but there are plenty of other options available to them. Divorce or new career paths are commonplace and socially acceptable today, but many stay on a particular path because their other choice is unpredictability, which is stressful and frightening. Conversations with strangers, while engaging, lack the heights of banter between two people who know the rhythms and cadences of their interlocutor. Much like sex, a good conversation starts out slowly and gains both volume and speed until a final big moment (often a laugh) is reached followed by an awkward pause for the people to catch their breath. Yep… It’s knowing people, and knowing what you expect of them that makes good conversation/sex possible.
Being predictable isn’t bad. People strive for it. The fact that people love TV so much is proof. Tv is stable for the most part. If we want unpredictable things we can watch movies which are capable of shaking us up and making us feel uncomfortable (Many movies are predictable, especially Action movies and Rom-Coms, which often follow the same rigid plot points and are populated by cliché fictional characters like Jennifer Aniston). Serialized entertainment survives by being mostly predictable, but all of the best shows offer us interesting characters who we can fall in love with because even if they are predictable in many ways, their personae remain interesting enough for us to come back to over and over again. Even when routines get dull and tired, the people who we let live in our lives, fictional or not, keep it interesting.
The best tv shows are driven by strong characters. In sitcoms these characters tend to be groups of people who make us want to spend time with them. Good ensemble sitcoms make us want to hang with the group at Central Perk, drink with Norm at Cheers, work under Michael Scott at Dunder Mifflin, or hit on girls with Barney at Maclarens. TV dramas rely on their characters too. What would House be without Hugh Lauries titular character? Mad Men has a host of characters that, over time, viewers have become fascinated by. Lost spent 3 seasons developing their characters through flashback. People come back week after week to see the enrichment of these characters, and to understand who they are. Serialized entertainment nearly requires interesting characters because it’s longevity makes even the most interesting jobs of being doctors or ad execs or living on a paranormal island grow wearisome. Even in serialized literature, War & Peace uses the backdrop of the war as a playground for its ever memorable characters, and Dickens’ work is similar. Movies and shorter pieces do not require them to be compelling. Tolstoy’s Kreutzer Sonata and The Death of Ivan Ilych have forgettable characters yet both are great books. Movies sometimes use leads like those in Rear Window or Synecdoche NY, where the cast is used as mirrors for the viewer to observe himself.
Good serialized entertainment eventually gets comfortable with its premise, and relies on what remains interesting: the people it has created. This isn’t a criticism. The marathon that is TV makes it possible to have long emotional arcs ending in overwhelmingly cathartic moments. Spending so much time with these people allows us to know them more intimately than many friends because we see them in their weakest moments. We see the sides of themselves they try to hide, and knowing them so well makes these characters mostly predictable. Sometimes they defy expectation, but they surprise themselves in doing so.
Real people too, are mostly predictable. The reason we become comfortable around people is because we rely on them to react to jokes or conversational topics in expected ways. Good characters, tv or otherwise, are the same. Predictability is often thought of as boring, or a path to dystopian futures, but in reality, it adds to our enjoyment of life rather than taking away from it. People complain about their marriages and work life as routine and plain, but there are plenty of other options available to them. Divorce or new career paths are commonplace and socially acceptable today, but many stay on a particular path because their other choice is unpredictability, which is stressful and frightening. Conversations with strangers, while engaging, lack the heights of banter between two people who know the rhythms and cadences of their interlocutor. Much like sex, a good conversation starts out slowly and gains both volume and speed until a final big moment (often a laugh) is reached followed by an awkward pause for the people to catch their breath. Yep… It’s knowing people, and knowing what you expect of them that makes good conversation/sex possible.
Being predictable isn’t bad. People strive for it. The fact that people love TV so much is proof. Tv is stable for the most part. If we want unpredictable things we can watch movies which are capable of shaking us up and making us feel uncomfortable (Many movies are predictable, especially Action movies and Rom-Coms, which often follow the same rigid plot points and are populated by cliché fictional characters like Jennifer Aniston). Serialized entertainment survives by being mostly predictable, but all of the best shows offer us interesting characters who we can fall in love with because even if they are predictable in many ways, their personae remain interesting enough for us to come back to over and over again. Even when routines get dull and tired, the people who we let live in our lives, fictional or not, keep it interesting.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Community & Writing
(This essay should be filled with examples, but most of the examples I would use are in George Orwell’s essay “Politics and the English Language. I don’t have internet or any books while writing this. I have become frustrated with this essay, having intermittently been working on it for a few days now, and so I’m wrapping it up before I should because writing about writing sucks).
One of the great new shows of the past TV season was NBC’s Community. In it’s second half it managed to consistently find pathos by exploiting sitcom clichés and became sincere and funny even in its weakest episodes. What makes Community succeed is that the writers look at the sitcom stories tv watchers have grown so accustomed to (one of the strengths and weaknesses of sitcoms is that most are so predictable that from the introduction of any given plot line, the average viewer could spell out in detail the rest of the plot). Community uses these tropes, but plays with them by changing or contradicting them. The show breaks down clichés and attempts to show the emotion that first caused them to become clichés. The same stories, and the same words are revitalized by presenting them in a simple and unusual way.
The phrases and words people use in speaking or writing are often unconscious. In speech we tend to use ready-made phrases stored in our brains to gain time to gather our thoughts. They start out as filler, but often whole phrases and sentences become nothing but strings of prepackaged ideas. Similarly, many sitcoms (According to Jim, Big Bang Theory, Two and a Half Men etc…) are happy to follow established plots and jokes to entertain. Reality tv, perhaps the worst offender, is usually a string of easily repeatable words and the ‘reality’ part is contorted into an easy to follow story. Many people, however, demand more from entertainment than worn out plots, and are looking in tv shows or books or movies for honest emotion. The kind that brings them to the verge of tears or lets them smile for days, or rethink their behavior. Well thought out art tries to invoke these passions in its consumers, and great art succeeds.
These powerful sentiments are powerful because they’re unusual, while tired sentiments are tired because they‘re over-felt. There was a man who taught a course at Yale on Romeo and Juliet. He tells his students every year that he’s spent his whole life trying to recapture the feeling of reading the play for the first time again. He still loves reading the play, but what the play stirred in him can’t be felt as deeply ever again. The goal of a writer, from playwright to movie director to casual essayist is trying to inspire in people a feeling like that of the professor reading Romeo and Juliet
There are many ways which passion is aroused, but the first step is finding a new way to describe a familiar feeling. Hitchcock didn’t invent the feeling of suspense but he always managed to find new ways to make the viewer feel it. He did so with a master’s control of the camera and his shots. The playwright does it with his characters and dialogue. The essayist, especially the casual essayist, tend to do so with anecdotes and words. Often “hooks” are stories that seem, at first, unrelated to the essay, but as the essay develops, the reader understands both the purpose of the writer, and the anecdote in a new, clearer way. Sometimes that anecdote can be a story that’s been told many times, but through reading a good essay, that story evolves in the readers mind he is able to look at the story anew.
The stories and the purpose of writing is usually easy to arrive at. Vague ideas for essays arise throughout any given day, but it much harder to sit down and try to put those ideas into a coherent article. Well written essays always show that the writer cares about what he is writing by making the reader care about it too. The best writing can make people care about issues they cared about before. Making people care, however, is difficult because to do so the writer must avoid sounding pretentious, be clear and use phrases that are still able to affect the reader. Good writing is the hopeless endeavor to remove boring phrases and ideas from the mind and the page (with any inspection, this essay will cause the reader to laugh at this criticism which describes itself more than much writing). Amateur writing is made even more difficult because there are already so many wonderful essays written in English.
Writing is often painful and difficult. Rereading each paragraph almost brings pain because each time I go through them I see how much better they could be. Each sentence struggles and some flounder. I began this essay thinking it would be something else but, as usual, it became something different. I wanted to say one thing, and ended up saying, perhaps, nothing. This essay has caused me no end of agony and still is. Maybe soon I’ll come back to it and revise it. Make it better. But while writing it I’ve been forced to look at my writing, and the process of writing, and why I like to write. Because while attempting to clean out all the fluff on the page, I start to think a little clearer. While trying to figure out what to say, I always end up looking at my topic in different ways. Sometimes a brilliant thought looks idiotic when written down, and then that thought gets broken down and rebuilt and then thrown out and brought back in until, sometimes, it becomes brilliant again. Sometimes I’ll look at a daily activity and while writing it, something mundane becomes meaningful again and, for a while, the world becomes a place full of wonder. As a mediocre, novice writer, I may not have to skill to bring the reader along with me, but as a writer for myself it’s the process of writing that renews my world and keeps it an interesting place.
One of the great new shows of the past TV season was NBC’s Community. In it’s second half it managed to consistently find pathos by exploiting sitcom clichés and became sincere and funny even in its weakest episodes. What makes Community succeed is that the writers look at the sitcom stories tv watchers have grown so accustomed to (one of the strengths and weaknesses of sitcoms is that most are so predictable that from the introduction of any given plot line, the average viewer could spell out in detail the rest of the plot). Community uses these tropes, but plays with them by changing or contradicting them. The show breaks down clichés and attempts to show the emotion that first caused them to become clichés. The same stories, and the same words are revitalized by presenting them in a simple and unusual way.
The phrases and words people use in speaking or writing are often unconscious. In speech we tend to use ready-made phrases stored in our brains to gain time to gather our thoughts. They start out as filler, but often whole phrases and sentences become nothing but strings of prepackaged ideas. Similarly, many sitcoms (According to Jim, Big Bang Theory, Two and a Half Men etc…) are happy to follow established plots and jokes to entertain. Reality tv, perhaps the worst offender, is usually a string of easily repeatable words and the ‘reality’ part is contorted into an easy to follow story. Many people, however, demand more from entertainment than worn out plots, and are looking in tv shows or books or movies for honest emotion. The kind that brings them to the verge of tears or lets them smile for days, or rethink their behavior. Well thought out art tries to invoke these passions in its consumers, and great art succeeds.
These powerful sentiments are powerful because they’re unusual, while tired sentiments are tired because they‘re over-felt. There was a man who taught a course at Yale on Romeo and Juliet. He tells his students every year that he’s spent his whole life trying to recapture the feeling of reading the play for the first time again. He still loves reading the play, but what the play stirred in him can’t be felt as deeply ever again. The goal of a writer, from playwright to movie director to casual essayist is trying to inspire in people a feeling like that of the professor reading Romeo and Juliet
There are many ways which passion is aroused, but the first step is finding a new way to describe a familiar feeling. Hitchcock didn’t invent the feeling of suspense but he always managed to find new ways to make the viewer feel it. He did so with a master’s control of the camera and his shots. The playwright does it with his characters and dialogue. The essayist, especially the casual essayist, tend to do so with anecdotes and words. Often “hooks” are stories that seem, at first, unrelated to the essay, but as the essay develops, the reader understands both the purpose of the writer, and the anecdote in a new, clearer way. Sometimes that anecdote can be a story that’s been told many times, but through reading a good essay, that story evolves in the readers mind he is able to look at the story anew.
The stories and the purpose of writing is usually easy to arrive at. Vague ideas for essays arise throughout any given day, but it much harder to sit down and try to put those ideas into a coherent article. Well written essays always show that the writer cares about what he is writing by making the reader care about it too. The best writing can make people care about issues they cared about before. Making people care, however, is difficult because to do so the writer must avoid sounding pretentious, be clear and use phrases that are still able to affect the reader. Good writing is the hopeless endeavor to remove boring phrases and ideas from the mind and the page (with any inspection, this essay will cause the reader to laugh at this criticism which describes itself more than much writing). Amateur writing is made even more difficult because there are already so many wonderful essays written in English.
Writing is often painful and difficult. Rereading each paragraph almost brings pain because each time I go through them I see how much better they could be. Each sentence struggles and some flounder. I began this essay thinking it would be something else but, as usual, it became something different. I wanted to say one thing, and ended up saying, perhaps, nothing. This essay has caused me no end of agony and still is. Maybe soon I’ll come back to it and revise it. Make it better. But while writing it I’ve been forced to look at my writing, and the process of writing, and why I like to write. Because while attempting to clean out all the fluff on the page, I start to think a little clearer. While trying to figure out what to say, I always end up looking at my topic in different ways. Sometimes a brilliant thought looks idiotic when written down, and then that thought gets broken down and rebuilt and then thrown out and brought back in until, sometimes, it becomes brilliant again. Sometimes I’ll look at a daily activity and while writing it, something mundane becomes meaningful again and, for a while, the world becomes a place full of wonder. As a mediocre, novice writer, I may not have to skill to bring the reader along with me, but as a writer for myself it’s the process of writing that renews my world and keeps it an interesting place.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Wuv, True Wuv
There are few moments in life when a desire is so overwhelming that self preservation and prudence are abandoned to pursue it. These are exhilarting moments and each should be feared and embraced. In modern times this desire is most often erotic love.
In the C. S. Lewis Essay "We Have No 'Right to Happiness,'" he writes, "When I was a youngster, all the progressive people were saying, "Why all this prudery? Let us treat sex just as we treat all our other impulses." I was simple-minded enough to believe they meant what they said. I have since discovered that they meant exactly the opposite. They meant that sex was to be treated as no other impulse in our nature has ever been treated by civilized people. All the others, we admit, have to be bridled. Absolute obedience to your instinct for self-preservation is what we call cowardice; to your acquisitive impulse, avarice. Even sleep must be resisted if you're a sentry. But every unkindness and breach of faith seems to be condoned provided that the object aimed at is "four bare legs in a bed."
The rest of the essay is here: http://www.sunnipath.com/library/Articles/AR00000268
Lewis argues that erotic love should actually be treated as any other desire and that our obsession with eros is causing a spiritual and moral denigration in our society. If we are allowed to act however we like in the name of love,the laws lose meaning, virtue becomes outdated and moral codes vanish. Few would argue that in the pursuit of erotic love all is permissable, but perhaps against what Lewis assumes, erotic love is better that our other desires and there is more room to bend morality for its sake than for our other desires.
In his essay Lewis compares erotic love to self-preservation, avarice, hunger and the desire for sleep, but what separates love from these other impulses is that erotic love in this sense is a communal act. Our desires tend to focus us inward and cause us to fight for our own personal needs disregarding our empathetic and communal feelings for the sake of the self. Hunger and sleep deprivation cause us to snap at others and often to be cruel. Satisfying those desires is always a selfish act. Self-preservation is obviously only concerned only with the self, but love is consumed with satisfying the self and the other. The act of turning focus outward, and recognizing a being who has the same needs and wants is the beginning of empathy. Compassion for the other follows and, so long as that love lasts, the desires of the self and the other are comingled. What one wants becomes confused with the other. The identity of the self remains itself, but in the act of perceiving being in another it is wrenched out of narcicism and into shared experience.
Without a doubt people have sex for their own satisfaction while disregarding the other person, but in any healthy lasting sexual relationship there is always some witholding of personal sexual pleasure, or even going through some discomfort to please the other. Erotic love begs for us to share it with another and that love is at the basis of the purest and simple form of community, families. To say that the roots of all our communal and shared experiences are in this erotic love may be an exaggeration, but not much of one.
Socrates once said that “the only thing I say I know is the art of eros.” For him pursuing erotic love was the same as pursuing truth and being. Whitman took this eroticism and turned it into something more literal (see song of myself, O me! O life! or many of his other writings). These men both saw that in the soul of a man overcome with erotic love there is a desire more profound and powerful than the baseness that can accompany other desires. The precious few times in my own life when I’ve felt real, erotic passion, I have felt the desire to become a better, kinder person and they have always reignited my need to learn and understand the world and myself better. That’s why I always cling to those times and continue to search for new ones.
In the C. S. Lewis Essay "We Have No 'Right to Happiness,'" he writes, "When I was a youngster, all the progressive people were saying, "Why all this prudery? Let us treat sex just as we treat all our other impulses." I was simple-minded enough to believe they meant what they said. I have since discovered that they meant exactly the opposite. They meant that sex was to be treated as no other impulse in our nature has ever been treated by civilized people. All the others, we admit, have to be bridled. Absolute obedience to your instinct for self-preservation is what we call cowardice; to your acquisitive impulse, avarice. Even sleep must be resisted if you're a sentry. But every unkindness and breach of faith seems to be condoned provided that the object aimed at is "four bare legs in a bed."
The rest of the essay is here: http://www.sunnipath.com/library/Articles/AR00000268
Lewis argues that erotic love should actually be treated as any other desire and that our obsession with eros is causing a spiritual and moral denigration in our society. If we are allowed to act however we like in the name of love,the laws lose meaning, virtue becomes outdated and moral codes vanish. Few would argue that in the pursuit of erotic love all is permissable, but perhaps against what Lewis assumes, erotic love is better that our other desires and there is more room to bend morality for its sake than for our other desires.
In his essay Lewis compares erotic love to self-preservation, avarice, hunger and the desire for sleep, but what separates love from these other impulses is that erotic love in this sense is a communal act. Our desires tend to focus us inward and cause us to fight for our own personal needs disregarding our empathetic and communal feelings for the sake of the self. Hunger and sleep deprivation cause us to snap at others and often to be cruel. Satisfying those desires is always a selfish act. Self-preservation is obviously only concerned only with the self, but love is consumed with satisfying the self and the other. The act of turning focus outward, and recognizing a being who has the same needs and wants is the beginning of empathy. Compassion for the other follows and, so long as that love lasts, the desires of the self and the other are comingled. What one wants becomes confused with the other. The identity of the self remains itself, but in the act of perceiving being in another it is wrenched out of narcicism and into shared experience.
Without a doubt people have sex for their own satisfaction while disregarding the other person, but in any healthy lasting sexual relationship there is always some witholding of personal sexual pleasure, or even going through some discomfort to please the other. Erotic love begs for us to share it with another and that love is at the basis of the purest and simple form of community, families. To say that the roots of all our communal and shared experiences are in this erotic love may be an exaggeration, but not much of one.
Socrates once said that “the only thing I say I know is the art of eros.” For him pursuing erotic love was the same as pursuing truth and being. Whitman took this eroticism and turned it into something more literal (see song of myself, O me! O life! or many of his other writings). These men both saw that in the soul of a man overcome with erotic love there is a desire more profound and powerful than the baseness that can accompany other desires. The precious few times in my own life when I’ve felt real, erotic passion, I have felt the desire to become a better, kinder person and they have always reignited my need to learn and understand the world and myself better. That’s why I always cling to those times and continue to search for new ones.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Falling in love with a girl who isn't there
Sometimes I want to write not to express meaning to others, but to attempt to gain a clearer grasp of my emotions. Reading over some previous posts, many are difficult to understand because through the course of writing them I failed to do this, while others suffer from only beginning to understand what I want to say by the end of the post. Sometimes I'm hiding from troubling thoughts by obscuring my meaning . If this post lacks coherency or style it is because I am dealing with painful and difficult emotions might struggle to tie their chaos into something intelligible. I will not attempt to make my situation abstract or personal, I only attempt to write about my life. Here goes.
I met a girl at a sci fi convention and soon after, or perhaps during, we started dating. I adored her. Before I met her my life was manic. Since about February, when my blood was thining out for the spring I became desperate to figure out a part of my life which always seemed important to me, but only in the abstract. Sex, I had always thought, was wonderful, but sacrificing personal time and friendships for an erotic relationship was a waste. No longer. I awoke my womanizing side and headed out to the places where I could meet single people. Karoeke bars I found were often the best, but I learned to excel nearly everywhere. I became a slut. Short term dating and hopping from bed to bed is thrilling, and convincing myself that I could like a girl that I couldn't sometimes works. After the booze wore off, and I left another bed, the high was gone and only a feeling of guilt and sadness stayed.
The guilt isn't one over sexual relationships, but because I was misleading and manipulating girls who were not as intelligent as me. The sadness was lonliness and fear. To quote High Fidelity, "We were frightened of being left alone for the rest of our lives. Only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 26, and we were of that disposition." I am too.
This, however, is not what I want to write about, and even now I am dancing around the subject.
By April I knew I was tired of sleeping around, but not as tired as I was of being single. It so happened that in April was the greatest singles convention I've ever seen. It was called Starfest. Laugh if you must but it's true. We met and talked all night and then one thing lead to another and we were making out outside of the hotel. Then we went to a Klingon/BSG party and ended up making out for an hour or so next to the vending machines on the fourth floor.
Sometime strange happened the next day. I woke up without the feeling of disgust. I was happy. We spent the next week texting and talking to each other and we went on a first date. She said she wanted to sing karaoke and we did. She was amazing. She was a senior studying physics at the Scool of Mines. She wanted to use that degree to teach physics. It shouldn't now surprise any reader who knows me that I would like her. Unfortunately what I also found was that she was going to Spain for the summer to begin work on her masters in physics. From late May to early August she would be studying electron disperal patterns with a Spanish physicist.
So we passed the one month we had getting to know each other. Sometimes we were good together. Sometimes we struggled with the pangs of getting to know someone with all of the unnatural expectations surrounding 'dating.' There were also moments of sheer greatness. Moments when the awkward pauses and sometimes jilted rythyms of a conversation with a near stranger, were forgotten and what showed was the underlying emotional state of our souls. The feeling that she could satisfy me like no one before her. The last night came and we stayed up all night whispering to each other. Then she left.
We could break up, we could stay together, or we could see other people while she was away. The third option is the same as the first in reality. I couldn't see myself finding anyone better, and I didn't want to forever wonder if I made a mistake.
I am unsure about things, jealous all the time, convinced in so many ways that by the end of summer I'll have just wasted three months pining away. I barely remember the way she looks. I fall asleep every night thinking about her. I wonder if we're actually a good pair or not. A month is such a short time to get to know someone and it's impossible to understand who she is in any profound way. She tends to keep her distance more than myself, but when she expresses herself it's passionate.
In the first week she sent me a song with one of her emails, and ever since we've been sending songs back and forth. Some about ourselves and some about us. These songs serve as the emotional nourishment of our relationship. They dictate how I feel about her, and I use them to prolong those emotions. I wonder if my perceptions about her are any longer tied to her true self. Since I never knew her well, and since she's been gone so long, I've become uncertain about whether she's the person I think she is, or whether she's something else and I've forced a desired set of perceptions on her.
So I pine and wait for summer to end. My desperation to figure out my lovelife has led me to limbo. I can't search for love while she hangs over my head, and I can't move forward with my relationship to her. I wait and it wears on me. The advancement of my life seems to depend on her, and she's not here. Perhaps she isn't even real, and perhaps I'm an overdramatic drama queen. I can't tell, and the story won't continue till August.
I met a girl at a sci fi convention and soon after, or perhaps during, we started dating. I adored her. Before I met her my life was manic. Since about February, when my blood was thining out for the spring I became desperate to figure out a part of my life which always seemed important to me, but only in the abstract. Sex, I had always thought, was wonderful, but sacrificing personal time and friendships for an erotic relationship was a waste. No longer. I awoke my womanizing side and headed out to the places where I could meet single people. Karoeke bars I found were often the best, but I learned to excel nearly everywhere. I became a slut. Short term dating and hopping from bed to bed is thrilling, and convincing myself that I could like a girl that I couldn't sometimes works. After the booze wore off, and I left another bed, the high was gone and only a feeling of guilt and sadness stayed.
The guilt isn't one over sexual relationships, but because I was misleading and manipulating girls who were not as intelligent as me. The sadness was lonliness and fear. To quote High Fidelity, "We were frightened of being left alone for the rest of our lives. Only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 26, and we were of that disposition." I am too.
This, however, is not what I want to write about, and even now I am dancing around the subject.
By April I knew I was tired of sleeping around, but not as tired as I was of being single. It so happened that in April was the greatest singles convention I've ever seen. It was called Starfest. Laugh if you must but it's true. We met and talked all night and then one thing lead to another and we were making out outside of the hotel. Then we went to a Klingon/BSG party and ended up making out for an hour or so next to the vending machines on the fourth floor.
Sometime strange happened the next day. I woke up without the feeling of disgust. I was happy. We spent the next week texting and talking to each other and we went on a first date. She said she wanted to sing karaoke and we did. She was amazing. She was a senior studying physics at the Scool of Mines. She wanted to use that degree to teach physics. It shouldn't now surprise any reader who knows me that I would like her. Unfortunately what I also found was that she was going to Spain for the summer to begin work on her masters in physics. From late May to early August she would be studying electron disperal patterns with a Spanish physicist.
So we passed the one month we had getting to know each other. Sometimes we were good together. Sometimes we struggled with the pangs of getting to know someone with all of the unnatural expectations surrounding 'dating.' There were also moments of sheer greatness. Moments when the awkward pauses and sometimes jilted rythyms of a conversation with a near stranger, were forgotten and what showed was the underlying emotional state of our souls. The feeling that she could satisfy me like no one before her. The last night came and we stayed up all night whispering to each other. Then she left.
We could break up, we could stay together, or we could see other people while she was away. The third option is the same as the first in reality. I couldn't see myself finding anyone better, and I didn't want to forever wonder if I made a mistake.
I am unsure about things, jealous all the time, convinced in so many ways that by the end of summer I'll have just wasted three months pining away. I barely remember the way she looks. I fall asleep every night thinking about her. I wonder if we're actually a good pair or not. A month is such a short time to get to know someone and it's impossible to understand who she is in any profound way. She tends to keep her distance more than myself, but when she expresses herself it's passionate.
In the first week she sent me a song with one of her emails, and ever since we've been sending songs back and forth. Some about ourselves and some about us. These songs serve as the emotional nourishment of our relationship. They dictate how I feel about her, and I use them to prolong those emotions. I wonder if my perceptions about her are any longer tied to her true self. Since I never knew her well, and since she's been gone so long, I've become uncertain about whether she's the person I think she is, or whether she's something else and I've forced a desired set of perceptions on her.
So I pine and wait for summer to end. My desperation to figure out my lovelife has led me to limbo. I can't search for love while she hangs over my head, and I can't move forward with my relationship to her. I wait and it wears on me. The advancement of my life seems to depend on her, and she's not here. Perhaps she isn't even real, and perhaps I'm an overdramatic drama queen. I can't tell, and the story won't continue till August.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Living in a Material World
Life as an avid pop culture omnivore isn't always easy. There is something wonderful about the crisp written dialogue of movies, television and music that can't be replicated in speech. Well written conversations are wittier and more charming than what people are capable of real life. There aren't awkward pauses or clarifying questions in writing. Tv characters always talk over the laugh tracks instead of letting conversations getting derailed by a joke. Each phrase is filled with a host of sub-textual emotions, and every character's life is boiled down to a handful of scenes which contain the most dramatic moments of his life or year. Elton John doesn't waste time singing about Commuter Man, and the people at CSI are never seen doing the massive amounts of paperwork that would be required of them for all the illegal acts they perform in the name of 'justice' (I've never seen that show, but I figure a cop drama is a cop drama and CBS isn't known for it's originality in programming). Pop culture offers us fantasy and wish fulfillment, and having spent tens of thousands of hours watching, reading and listening to a wide variety of entertainment seeping through the funnel that is pop culture, I often mix up my emotional desires with those of Ted Mosby or Nicholas Hornby.
Paraphrasing the central question of High Fidelity, "which came first, what the tv told me or my emotional disposition? In the land of TV, the shows I enjoy are the shows which offer me emotional satisfaction, catharsis and characters that I adore. What follows, however, is emulation of my adored characters. It begins innocently by borrowing a catch phrase or an opinion about a banal subject, but then I perceive my entire life through the lens of a show (Most recently that show has been Community, which is a show about this very phenomena as much as anything else). Sometimes all it takes to make a brand new lens for the world is a 3 minute pop song with a perfect line or two.
This is all well and good day to day and contributes to my social life and the personae with which I meet people. It becomes a problem, however, when I am confronted with relationships which put me into a state of hyper-emotionality. The foremost of those being the chance of falling in love. No subject is treated more in pop culture than that of finding your special someone (except perhaps breaking up with that special someone). Pop music loves the feeling of falling in love with people because people love that feeling too. What pop culture does, however, is give us the impression that this person will sweep you off your feet and from that day forth you will always every moment feel that same feeling of falling in love and you will never have feelings or desires for anyone else ever because that's what true love is forever and ever. That is, of course, bullshit with a sprinkle of truth, but since it is the dominant concept in pop culture I can't help feeling like the Elephant Love Song in Moulin Rouge portrays a real emotion and one that can last forever. This is, of course, contrary to all experience. My parents have been married for over 40 years, and the love they share is nothing like anything in Moulin Rouge, yet because of my youth and influences, I feel like it should be. My love will be different and more pure. An unending erotic whirlwind that lifts me up where I belong. This attitude lends itself to having hordes of utterly unfair expectations of life and relationships. I expect them to be more like Casablanca than the dreary day to day that actually composes so much of life.
There is a reason to let my fancies slip into real life in the surprisingly many moments where life actually does emulate the feelings or events of pop culture. This moment is where the interior world of dreams and fantasy meet with the external world which so often mocks and rejects. Seizing these small victories is the only way to stay sane in this crazy world and once you know where to find them it becomes easier to recreate those moments and to continually force these fantasies onto the world.
When reality can be elevated to the level of fantasy, it becomes possible to change reality on a whim, and even though my fantasies may be as silly as a handful of songs and movies, they allow me to shape and change my fantasy world, make a dreary day into a necessary scene in the narrative and keep life interesting even if it's just for a line or two.
Paraphrasing the central question of High Fidelity, "which came first, what the tv told me or my emotional disposition? In the land of TV, the shows I enjoy are the shows which offer me emotional satisfaction, catharsis and characters that I adore. What follows, however, is emulation of my adored characters. It begins innocently by borrowing a catch phrase or an opinion about a banal subject, but then I perceive my entire life through the lens of a show (Most recently that show has been Community, which is a show about this very phenomena as much as anything else). Sometimes all it takes to make a brand new lens for the world is a 3 minute pop song with a perfect line or two.
This is all well and good day to day and contributes to my social life and the personae with which I meet people. It becomes a problem, however, when I am confronted with relationships which put me into a state of hyper-emotionality. The foremost of those being the chance of falling in love. No subject is treated more in pop culture than that of finding your special someone (except perhaps breaking up with that special someone). Pop music loves the feeling of falling in love with people because people love that feeling too. What pop culture does, however, is give us the impression that this person will sweep you off your feet and from that day forth you will always every moment feel that same feeling of falling in love and you will never have feelings or desires for anyone else ever because that's what true love is forever and ever. That is, of course, bullshit with a sprinkle of truth, but since it is the dominant concept in pop culture I can't help feeling like the Elephant Love Song in Moulin Rouge portrays a real emotion and one that can last forever. This is, of course, contrary to all experience. My parents have been married for over 40 years, and the love they share is nothing like anything in Moulin Rouge, yet because of my youth and influences, I feel like it should be. My love will be different and more pure. An unending erotic whirlwind that lifts me up where I belong. This attitude lends itself to having hordes of utterly unfair expectations of life and relationships. I expect them to be more like Casablanca than the dreary day to day that actually composes so much of life.
There is a reason to let my fancies slip into real life in the surprisingly many moments where life actually does emulate the feelings or events of pop culture. This moment is where the interior world of dreams and fantasy meet with the external world which so often mocks and rejects. Seizing these small victories is the only way to stay sane in this crazy world and once you know where to find them it becomes easier to recreate those moments and to continually force these fantasies onto the world.
When reality can be elevated to the level of fantasy, it becomes possible to change reality on a whim, and even though my fantasies may be as silly as a handful of songs and movies, they allow me to shape and change my fantasy world, make a dreary day into a necessary scene in the narrative and keep life interesting even if it's just for a line or two.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Stupid Expressions
"And indeed there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet." -T. S. Eliot (this might not be quite accurate as I'm too lazy to look up the quote)
I was recently reading Paul's blog wherein he wrote a brief article about how the expression "I'll sleep when I'm dead" is stupid." While I agree with his assessment of the idiocy of that statement, I feel as though I should throw my own opinion in as far as stupid expressions are concerned. Perhaps I have a skewed view on this one, and it's really not an expression now that I'm thinking about it, but god dammit it pisses me off and it is something that Coca-cola and every advertising company has been using to appeal to the American spirit and it is "Be Yourself." That sounds nice right? Be Yourself. Seriously though, not only is that vague and unsatisfying when you stop to think about it, but also it's probably utter crap.
1.) Let's start from the shallow and work our way in. Perhaps we should consider an average Joe who is nice on the outside but ultimately a product of evolution which means he's savage, brutish, horny and occasionally empathetic, kind and horny. Should he behave like his inner chimpanzee desires too? Human beings pretend to be nice, but, and I know this is a really stupid and obvious thing to say, we're viceful and usually evil creatures. Those creatures lie at the very heart of the human "self."
2.) Well really the most important point in this rant is that we don't stay consistent as a "self" even around our closest friends. In any relationship the commonalities between two people define their relationship. When I'm around friends from St. John's I can make a series of complicated references to various philosophical ideas and assume that the person understands the enormous amount of context which follows in each reference. When I'm around other friends I can make those references to TV shows, or movies or whatever we might have in common. My point is that in each relationship, after reaching a level of comfort, there is a personality agreement which is reached between people. Long term relationships require that both involved parties are able to express a certain part of their "self" around the other, and that both parties appreciate and enjoy being that particular version of self. Many relationships, I think, end because after several months with another person you realize that perhaps you don't like the "self" or person the other makes you be.
3.) The worst problem with being "yourself" is that it's confining. All of the sudden you have demarcated aspects of personality or behavior that are not "you." Seriously, and I mean this, Fuuuck that. I know that even for myself there will be a time when I am more tied down by various people such as a spouse or children, and that this hinders, to some extent, the ability to rapidly change personalities. While it remains possible though, I would like to live through a million different personality traits. I want to be a jerk and a sweetheart, a tool and a charmer, a player and a husband. Each of these adjectives lives somewhere deeply in my soul. Sometimes I mix them in different ways, and sometimes they come out the same. Still, when I hear "be yourself" I can't help but wonder which one they mean. Is myself the one that boards himself up with the people he loves in a place he loves? or is he the one that goes dancing at clubs and picks up strange women he'll immediately ditch? Is he the compassionate one who'll do anything for his friends or the one who'll leave them by the wayside if they don't follow his every word. The only real answer that makes any sense is that he's one of these sometimes and another others. We can't help but be a plethora of contradictory things, after all, we're only human.
"I am large
I contain multitudes"
-Walt Whitman
I was recently reading Paul's blog wherein he wrote a brief article about how the expression "I'll sleep when I'm dead" is stupid." While I agree with his assessment of the idiocy of that statement, I feel as though I should throw my own opinion in as far as stupid expressions are concerned. Perhaps I have a skewed view on this one, and it's really not an expression now that I'm thinking about it, but god dammit it pisses me off and it is something that Coca-cola and every advertising company has been using to appeal to the American spirit and it is "Be Yourself." That sounds nice right? Be Yourself. Seriously though, not only is that vague and unsatisfying when you stop to think about it, but also it's probably utter crap.
1.) Let's start from the shallow and work our way in. Perhaps we should consider an average Joe who is nice on the outside but ultimately a product of evolution which means he's savage, brutish, horny and occasionally empathetic, kind and horny. Should he behave like his inner chimpanzee desires too? Human beings pretend to be nice, but, and I know this is a really stupid and obvious thing to say, we're viceful and usually evil creatures. Those creatures lie at the very heart of the human "self."
2.) Well really the most important point in this rant is that we don't stay consistent as a "self" even around our closest friends. In any relationship the commonalities between two people define their relationship. When I'm around friends from St. John's I can make a series of complicated references to various philosophical ideas and assume that the person understands the enormous amount of context which follows in each reference. When I'm around other friends I can make those references to TV shows, or movies or whatever we might have in common. My point is that in each relationship, after reaching a level of comfort, there is a personality agreement which is reached between people. Long term relationships require that both involved parties are able to express a certain part of their "self" around the other, and that both parties appreciate and enjoy being that particular version of self. Many relationships, I think, end because after several months with another person you realize that perhaps you don't like the "self" or person the other makes you be.
3.) The worst problem with being "yourself" is that it's confining. All of the sudden you have demarcated aspects of personality or behavior that are not "you." Seriously, and I mean this, Fuuuck that. I know that even for myself there will be a time when I am more tied down by various people such as a spouse or children, and that this hinders, to some extent, the ability to rapidly change personalities. While it remains possible though, I would like to live through a million different personality traits. I want to be a jerk and a sweetheart, a tool and a charmer, a player and a husband. Each of these adjectives lives somewhere deeply in my soul. Sometimes I mix them in different ways, and sometimes they come out the same. Still, when I hear "be yourself" I can't help but wonder which one they mean. Is myself the one that boards himself up with the people he loves in a place he loves? or is he the one that goes dancing at clubs and picks up strange women he'll immediately ditch? Is he the compassionate one who'll do anything for his friends or the one who'll leave them by the wayside if they don't follow his every word. The only real answer that makes any sense is that he's one of these sometimes and another others. We can't help but be a plethora of contradictory things, after all, we're only human.
"I am large
I contain multitudes"
-Walt Whitman
Sunday, April 4, 2010
No Words
I've been trying for the past few weeeks to gather my thoughts together and have written about five essays on my recent experiences, but none of the writings come together in a coherent way. I am not the best person at expressing myself in a concise way, and tend to meander too much to let my writing express anything of real importance. I do, however, think that anyone wishing to get inside my head right now should simply listen to the Spring violin sonata by Beethoven and then the Kreutzer. That should tell you more than I can with words.
If you want to listen:
There's a cleaner recording on the wikipedia page, but I don't think I can embed that
If you want to listen:
There's a cleaner recording on the wikipedia page, but I don't think I can embed that
Friday, March 12, 2010
I Don't Want Realism I Want Magic
"Yes, yes, magic! I try to give that to people. I misrepresent things to them. I don't tell the truth, I tell what ought to be the truth. And if that's sinful, then let me be damned for it! Don't turn the light on."
-Blance DuBois in "A Streetcare Named Desire"
Every movie book or play is filled with lies and misrepresentation. Characters have facades, authors have hidden motives, fiction isn't true and words don't mean what they mean to. Authors sometimes acknowledge this with a wink at the camera (the province of The Simpsons), or sometimes in a speech like Vivien Leigh's above. Lies are what makes the world of literature turn, and as Blanche DuBois suggests, there is 'magic' in these lies. It is magic that allows the worlds of Tolkien, Shakespeare, Vonnegut and Eliot to exist. And like any true magician (Prospero), the mark of good magic is that they bring you into their world, and for a moment, you forget your own. With a real magician it happens in that moment when you might wonder if there really is magic in the world, and for an author, it happens when your imagination takes over and the stark reality of life disappears. It seems, if only for a moment, that the whole world has been consumed by the author's world. Certain books, movies or plays do this to all of us. Watching the Neverending Story still has that effect on me even with all of its flaws. Star Wars is such a wonderful movie because of its immersiveness not, as is often said, because of its fairly stock characters or philosophical musings. While dropped into an immersive world we're not caught off guard by new scenes, sets or characters, because each fits perfectly into this world. The job of the author is to make us accept the initial premise, and then develop a consistent world around it. People probably choose their favorite genres around what premises they are willing to accept. Some people are willing to accept aliens and spaceships, while others are happier with love at first sight. Often we are willing to accept the most ludicrous premise if it offers us a world or life we crave more than any other (See Star Trek V, or really any Star Trek other than late DS9).
So far my examples have been primarily fantastical in nature, but this magic trick happens all the time, and we often accept it without even realizing it. My favorite example is that people often mock musicals because they express emotions by breaking into song and dance, but take, on the other hand, average movie dialogue. Stock plotting in action movies or romantic comedies has characters falling "in love" within moments of meeting or after one date. They express these feelings in short bursts of "meaningful dialogue," but, as anyone who's ever actually had a conversation about life, love or the weather knows, conversations, last longer than 2 or 3 minutes. People don't make grand, vague statements concealing hidden depth and purpose without the recipient of the comment asking about it i. e. "did you just make a reference to your past that the audience knows about, but you've been concealing from me and now you're hinting that you want to tell me but feel too embarrassed to do so? Well I guess I won't ask you about the past that clearly is having an effect on our present relationship so that the movie can go for a full 90 minutes and maintain suspense." Characters in stock romances or action films don't talk to each other, but make statements for the audience to assure to them that the plot is moving. Again, this is not a problem, it's just a lie that we've become so comfortable with we don't even acknowledge it exists. I don't object, because the world where that happens is a nice place to visit from time to time.
Looking for magic in poems or movies is part of the fun. Christopher Nolan's "The Prestige" is a movie, about magic, that announces itself to be lies at the beginning, and uses that to confuse the viewer into accepting them. When I watched it for a second time, I was still so caught up in the tricks that without really noticing, I was sucked into the it and impressed with the magic even though I already knew 'the prestige.' Lies are misrepresentations for the background for nearly all of Hitchcock's work, and when watching his movies its hard to look away. The lies an author presents don't necessarily take us to nice places, but they take us to worlds where we want to spend time. Whether its the adrenaline that flows from a good suspense or a pitter-patter of a heart while Fred Astaire sings "The Way You Look Tonight" to Ginger Rogers with a head full of shampoo (it's actually whipped cream. Lies!)
The authors of these moments agree able to create the most wonderfully immersive places through clever lies, and when everything works, its magical. All that is required to visit is accepting a few falsities, and in return they offer feelings of joy, sadness and, for a moment, escape from the world.
P.S. I think Belle sums up much about why we need these stories here. "I want much more than this provincial life" indeed. The lie in this story is that there is more out there. Most of us will have to be content to create that more in a less tangible way than Belle.
-Blance DuBois in "A Streetcare Named Desire"
Every movie book or play is filled with lies and misrepresentation. Characters have facades, authors have hidden motives, fiction isn't true and words don't mean what they mean to. Authors sometimes acknowledge this with a wink at the camera (the province of The Simpsons), or sometimes in a speech like Vivien Leigh's above. Lies are what makes the world of literature turn, and as Blanche DuBois suggests, there is 'magic' in these lies. It is magic that allows the worlds of Tolkien, Shakespeare, Vonnegut and Eliot to exist. And like any true magician (Prospero), the mark of good magic is that they bring you into their world, and for a moment, you forget your own. With a real magician it happens in that moment when you might wonder if there really is magic in the world, and for an author, it happens when your imagination takes over and the stark reality of life disappears. It seems, if only for a moment, that the whole world has been consumed by the author's world. Certain books, movies or plays do this to all of us. Watching the Neverending Story still has that effect on me even with all of its flaws. Star Wars is such a wonderful movie because of its immersiveness not, as is often said, because of its fairly stock characters or philosophical musings. While dropped into an immersive world we're not caught off guard by new scenes, sets or characters, because each fits perfectly into this world. The job of the author is to make us accept the initial premise, and then develop a consistent world around it. People probably choose their favorite genres around what premises they are willing to accept. Some people are willing to accept aliens and spaceships, while others are happier with love at first sight. Often we are willing to accept the most ludicrous premise if it offers us a world or life we crave more than any other (See Star Trek V, or really any Star Trek other than late DS9).
So far my examples have been primarily fantastical in nature, but this magic trick happens all the time, and we often accept it without even realizing it. My favorite example is that people often mock musicals because they express emotions by breaking into song and dance, but take, on the other hand, average movie dialogue. Stock plotting in action movies or romantic comedies has characters falling "in love" within moments of meeting or after one date. They express these feelings in short bursts of "meaningful dialogue," but, as anyone who's ever actually had a conversation about life, love or the weather knows, conversations, last longer than 2 or 3 minutes. People don't make grand, vague statements concealing hidden depth and purpose without the recipient of the comment asking about it i. e. "did you just make a reference to your past that the audience knows about, but you've been concealing from me and now you're hinting that you want to tell me but feel too embarrassed to do so? Well I guess I won't ask you about the past that clearly is having an effect on our present relationship so that the movie can go for a full 90 minutes and maintain suspense." Characters in stock romances or action films don't talk to each other, but make statements for the audience to assure to them that the plot is moving. Again, this is not a problem, it's just a lie that we've become so comfortable with we don't even acknowledge it exists. I don't object, because the world where that happens is a nice place to visit from time to time.
Looking for magic in poems or movies is part of the fun. Christopher Nolan's "The Prestige" is a movie, about magic, that announces itself to be lies at the beginning, and uses that to confuse the viewer into accepting them. When I watched it for a second time, I was still so caught up in the tricks that without really noticing, I was sucked into the it and impressed with the magic even though I already knew 'the prestige.' Lies are misrepresentations for the background for nearly all of Hitchcock's work, and when watching his movies its hard to look away. The lies an author presents don't necessarily take us to nice places, but they take us to worlds where we want to spend time. Whether its the adrenaline that flows from a good suspense or a pitter-patter of a heart while Fred Astaire sings "The Way You Look Tonight" to Ginger Rogers with a head full of shampoo (it's actually whipped cream. Lies!)
The authors of these moments agree able to create the most wonderfully immersive places through clever lies, and when everything works, its magical. All that is required to visit is accepting a few falsities, and in return they offer feelings of joy, sadness and, for a moment, escape from the world.
P.S. I think Belle sums up much about why we need these stories here. "I want much more than this provincial life" indeed. The lie in this story is that there is more out there. Most of us will have to be content to create that more in a less tangible way than Belle.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Roger Ebert's Legacy
Recently, Esquire published an article about Roger Ebert, which inspired me to address Ebert, at least for a moment.
http://www.esquire.com/features/roger-ebert-0310-6
The friggin insert link button is all wonky for me, and I'm too lazy to figure it out.
I've only known about film criticism in the times after Roger Ebert was an influential writer, so it's at times difficult for me to imagine what it was like before. He is famous, not for reviewing movies, but writing significant literary criticism about them. At the climax of Ratatouille, there is an essay written by the character Ego, a harsh and stubborn critic.
(I could write a whole post on why I am so affected by that speech. I find it's plea for a return to sincerity disarming and heartbreaking) The reviews Ebert writes, especially in his Great Movies series, are different from what is being spoken of here. His body of work belongs among the great American essayists. His best reviews, or at least the ones I prefer, are not the ones that insist you either see or don't see a particular movies, but the ones where he attempts to delve into the core of a movie, elevating it to art. He has become, in my sojourn through great movies, a near constant companion who often offers a different perspective. He notices things I do not. His level of study over certain movies like Citizen Kane (which someday I'll get up the nerve to address), and Dark City (he did a full length dvd commentary on it), offers true guidance to the novice filmgoer. He said once, "I have here a heartfelt message from a reader who urges me not to be so hard on stupid films, because they are 'plenty smart enough for the average moviegoer.' Yes, but one hopes being an average moviegoer is not the end of the road: that one starts as a below-average filmgoer, passes through average, and, guided by the labors of America's hardworking film critics, arrives in triumph at above-average."
There is an argument you might hear from people who play lots of video games, which is that a gamer uses his brain interactively while playing video games, while a person watching a television is passive. Sometimes that may be true, but when watching a great movie, whether for the first or the twentieth time, it seems silly to call it a passive experience. It takes alertness in all sensory experience to watch a movie because it happens so quickly. There are sounds, dialogue and camera angles. Each is an integral part of film, and I consider it a blessing that I can watch them at home with a remote in hand to pause, rewind and confront what is being shown. My ever increasing knowledge of these things would barely exist without the guidance of Roger Ebert.
To write about Ebert at this time is, I know, cliche, but I hadn't seen a picture of him without his lower jaw until he appeared on Oprah. It's difficult to see the man, whose thoughts and optimism I find so admirable, in such a state. Over the past few years he has become a role model of mine up there with Bertrand Russell, and Douglas Adams. Each post, I understand I am writing about what is easily perceived as a pretentious subject, but my aim is to get people as excited as I am about these films, not to look down on those who don't care. Ebert understands that we experience film and books in the same way: We use them as both a means to escape into fantasy for a time, and at others, we use them as a mirror to hold up against ourselves, revealing things that we normally attempt to hide. He wrote once, and I'm sure I could find a better quote, but this will do, "A lot of people these days don't even go to a movie once. There are alternatives. It doesn't have to be the movies, but we must somehow dream. If we don't "go to the movies" in any form, our minds wither and sicken." He should be proud in the twilight of his life, that he encourage so many, myself included, to 'go to the movies' and become sincerely invested in the beauty and artistry of cinema. I will miss him when he is gone, and will always treasure his writings and influence over my life.
http://www.esquire.com/features/roger-ebert-0310-6
The friggin insert link button is all wonky for me, and I'm too lazy to figure it out.
I've only known about film criticism in the times after Roger Ebert was an influential writer, so it's at times difficult for me to imagine what it was like before. He is famous, not for reviewing movies, but writing significant literary criticism about them. At the climax of Ratatouille, there is an essay written by the character Ego, a harsh and stubborn critic.
(I could write a whole post on why I am so affected by that speech. I find it's plea for a return to sincerity disarming and heartbreaking) The reviews Ebert writes, especially in his Great Movies series, are different from what is being spoken of here. His body of work belongs among the great American essayists. His best reviews, or at least the ones I prefer, are not the ones that insist you either see or don't see a particular movies, but the ones where he attempts to delve into the core of a movie, elevating it to art. He has become, in my sojourn through great movies, a near constant companion who often offers a different perspective. He notices things I do not. His level of study over certain movies like Citizen Kane (which someday I'll get up the nerve to address), and Dark City (he did a full length dvd commentary on it), offers true guidance to the novice filmgoer. He said once, "I have here a heartfelt message from a reader who urges me not to be so hard on stupid films, because they are 'plenty smart enough for the average moviegoer.' Yes, but one hopes being an average moviegoer is not the end of the road: that one starts as a below-average filmgoer, passes through average, and, guided by the labors of America's hardworking film critics, arrives in triumph at above-average."
There is an argument you might hear from people who play lots of video games, which is that a gamer uses his brain interactively while playing video games, while a person watching a television is passive. Sometimes that may be true, but when watching a great movie, whether for the first or the twentieth time, it seems silly to call it a passive experience. It takes alertness in all sensory experience to watch a movie because it happens so quickly. There are sounds, dialogue and camera angles. Each is an integral part of film, and I consider it a blessing that I can watch them at home with a remote in hand to pause, rewind and confront what is being shown. My ever increasing knowledge of these things would barely exist without the guidance of Roger Ebert.
To write about Ebert at this time is, I know, cliche, but I hadn't seen a picture of him without his lower jaw until he appeared on Oprah. It's difficult to see the man, whose thoughts and optimism I find so admirable, in such a state. Over the past few years he has become a role model of mine up there with Bertrand Russell, and Douglas Adams. Each post, I understand I am writing about what is easily perceived as a pretentious subject, but my aim is to get people as excited as I am about these films, not to look down on those who don't care. Ebert understands that we experience film and books in the same way: We use them as both a means to escape into fantasy for a time, and at others, we use them as a mirror to hold up against ourselves, revealing things that we normally attempt to hide. He wrote once, and I'm sure I could find a better quote, but this will do, "A lot of people these days don't even go to a movie once. There are alternatives. It doesn't have to be the movies, but we must somehow dream. If we don't "go to the movies" in any form, our minds wither and sicken." He should be proud in the twilight of his life, that he encourage so many, myself included, to 'go to the movies' and become sincerely invested in the beauty and artistry of cinema. I will miss him when he is gone, and will always treasure his writings and influence over my life.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Wonderment In Film
In most of my posts I've scratched around near the surface looking for some basic philosophic premise. Whether I'm sometimes looking for something that isn't there or perhaps simply missing the point is irrelevant to me. Each movie I've written about has affected me in some way, and my writing about them is simply me trying to sort out why they affected me a certain way. Sometimes they overwhelm me with emotion, and sometimes they make me step back and reexamine my beliefs. Other movies, however, have a goal that isn't so philosophical, but rather to create a feeling of wonder. Perhaps the makers of a film would disagree with me, but creating a sense of wonder in a person is a rare thing. Something that all directors should strive for, but few succeed. It requires such precision with every shot and every piece of music. It's the actors hitting the right emotions, the scenery, the prop that fits perfectly into a story. It's the feeling I had when first watching The Lord of the Rings, or 2001:A Space Odyssey. It's what James Cameron spent 300 million dollars trying to do in Avatar, and It's the feeling I most recently felt when watching "The Third Man."
The movie takes place in a post-war Vienna, and was filmed exclusively on location. The city looks torn down and ragged, and the opening narration informs us that the moral character of the town is also in ruins. The city is divided into four parts for each major nationality, and in the center are the international police, who are outnumbered and outwitted by the black market. After the introduction to Vienna, we are introduced to the main character, Holly Martins, who is in town to visit an old college friend named Harry Lime. It turns out, however, that his friend has recently died. From there the plot follows the twists and turns which might be expected from a suspense movie, but there is much more going on in this movie than a typical 40s or 50s thriller. The movie shines in both its cinematography and in its score. The score is primarily jazz guitar, but it sounds almost as though the guitarist is strumming with a dagger instead of a pick. At first that guitarist might seem scary, but sometimes he's funny. He's a paid musician in a public space playing his instrument with a lethal weapon, and surely that can't be good for the guitar. But, if you get close to him, you might find you nerves becoming frayed as harsh notes echo with undertones of danger and fear (that analogy might make no sense whatsoever, but I can't get it out of my head). Here's the theme, it starts at about 55 seconds in.
I'll try not to give away anymore of the film (everything I've mentioned happens in the first few minutes), because I wouldn't want to ruin any of it. But if you do watch it, pay attention to the camera. Most of the time you spend watching the actors at angles, as though the camera had just been knocked off its tripod from a nearby bomb explosion. Every part of the movie screams with the pains and nihilism of a city ravaged by war, and the remaining people living with the guilt of surviving. Still clinging onto life and wealth even if they don't know why. In the midst of this is a cheery visiting American who writes westerner novels and drinks too much.
As the movie climaxes, and the famous scenes build up one after another, we reach, perhaps the pinnacle of the movie in the last shot. It's a long one, and stands against the rest of the movie as the camera sits unmoving and parallel to the ground framed by a line of trees going off into the horizon on either side. I won't put the clip in because it reveals something of the end, and if you don't go out of your way to see any other movie I write about, see this one. Other than being an almost perfect movie, the Third Man feels like the parent of Hitchcock's North by Northwest, which itself fathered nearly every action cliche that exists today. Also it has this gem of a quote said by Orson Wells.
It's only one of many great lines. I'll shut up about it now. Next time you're in the mood for a fun romp through a war torn city with a twinge of despair, Netflix this movie or rent it from a library. It'll grab you from the overture, and won't let you go until you can do nothing but say "wow" after the final scene.
P.S. I don't want to say that there isn't any philosophical merit here, it's just that I didn't love this movie for what it 'meant' to me, but for the sheer pleasure of watching it. The same is true of 2001, but the end of that movie does make it difficult not to ask, "wtf is this movie about. "
The movie takes place in a post-war Vienna, and was filmed exclusively on location. The city looks torn down and ragged, and the opening narration informs us that the moral character of the town is also in ruins. The city is divided into four parts for each major nationality, and in the center are the international police, who are outnumbered and outwitted by the black market. After the introduction to Vienna, we are introduced to the main character, Holly Martins, who is in town to visit an old college friend named Harry Lime. It turns out, however, that his friend has recently died. From there the plot follows the twists and turns which might be expected from a suspense movie, but there is much more going on in this movie than a typical 40s or 50s thriller. The movie shines in both its cinematography and in its score. The score is primarily jazz guitar, but it sounds almost as though the guitarist is strumming with a dagger instead of a pick. At first that guitarist might seem scary, but sometimes he's funny. He's a paid musician in a public space playing his instrument with a lethal weapon, and surely that can't be good for the guitar. But, if you get close to him, you might find you nerves becoming frayed as harsh notes echo with undertones of danger and fear (that analogy might make no sense whatsoever, but I can't get it out of my head). Here's the theme, it starts at about 55 seconds in.
I'll try not to give away anymore of the film (everything I've mentioned happens in the first few minutes), because I wouldn't want to ruin any of it. But if you do watch it, pay attention to the camera. Most of the time you spend watching the actors at angles, as though the camera had just been knocked off its tripod from a nearby bomb explosion. Every part of the movie screams with the pains and nihilism of a city ravaged by war, and the remaining people living with the guilt of surviving. Still clinging onto life and wealth even if they don't know why. In the midst of this is a cheery visiting American who writes westerner novels and drinks too much.
As the movie climaxes, and the famous scenes build up one after another, we reach, perhaps the pinnacle of the movie in the last shot. It's a long one, and stands against the rest of the movie as the camera sits unmoving and parallel to the ground framed by a line of trees going off into the horizon on either side. I won't put the clip in because it reveals something of the end, and if you don't go out of your way to see any other movie I write about, see this one. Other than being an almost perfect movie, the Third Man feels like the parent of Hitchcock's North by Northwest, which itself fathered nearly every action cliche that exists today. Also it has this gem of a quote said by Orson Wells.
It's only one of many great lines. I'll shut up about it now. Next time you're in the mood for a fun romp through a war torn city with a twinge of despair, Netflix this movie or rent it from a library. It'll grab you from the overture, and won't let you go until you can do nothing but say "wow" after the final scene.
P.S. I don't want to say that there isn't any philosophical merit here, it's just that I didn't love this movie for what it 'meant' to me, but for the sheer pleasure of watching it. The same is true of 2001, but the end of that movie does make it difficult not to ask, "wtf is this movie about. "
Monday, March 1, 2010
Should James Cameron Have 2 Best Pictures or None?
Oscar night is approaching fast, and the movie fans everywhere are putting down their bets for who will take home the statue for best director and best picture. The academy has a tendency to choose the dramatic films over the fast paced, action blockbusters, but this year there is really only a two way battle between Avatar, and The Hurt Locker. Both are action movies, but one has broken nearly every box office record, while the other remains largely unseen. The other nominees are heavy underdogs, and as there are eight underdogs this year, I would wager that none will even come close to the frontrunners. What makes this Oscar race special is that Hurt Locker director Kathryn Bigelow was once married to James "King of the World" Cameron himself, and the former spouses will duke it out to the death on March 7, But who will come out on top? and who should?
Let's start with looking at what the Academy tries to do. One of its functions is to promote movies as an art form rather than popcorn entertainment. This is why it tends to ignore movies like Transformers, and favor movies like Precious (which I haven't seen). Even though the Academy is oftentimes egregiously annoying (I still haven't forgiven them for not even nominating The Dark Knight for best picture, which both hurt their credibility and showed open disdain for the public and most critics), still it performs a valuable function which is to make people go out and see movies that they might not otherwise see. Between the months of January and March, many people will find themselves stumbling into the art house theaters to catch a movie which might actually be good rather then showing up to the nearest Regal Cineplex to fork over their money for a movie they're already convinced will be above average at best, below the lowest common denominator more often. If the Academy even gets a few people to take a chance on a good movie every once in a while, it is a positive force in the world, even if it is pretentious and self-aggrandizing.
Another important function of the Academy, is that it might make a viewer reexamine a past movie which he may have shrugged off on first viewing, but it might deserve a second chance. Most recently for myself, that movie was Titanic, and it surprised me a bit. When the movie came out it was over hyped and quickly became such a cultural force that separating the film itself from its surroundings was nearly impossible. Citizen Kane is similar when you watch it for the first time. The position these films occupy in our culture makes it harder to see them for what they are. For Titanic it's cultural position is still too near for me to become objective, and every time the stupid love theme played (you know it, the one by Celine Dion) I shuddered. Still, the movie, if inferior to one of the other nominees from 1997, L.A. Confidential, is a great example of an exciting blockbuster which builds up themes and take them to a satisfying conclusion. Cameron, as he always does, paints his lead characters in absurdly broad strokes. So much so that when Billy Zane's character begins chasing Kate & Leo around the ship, he reminded me most of the hilariously campy villain played by Gary Oldman in "The 5th Element." The lines drawn between people who love money (the rich ones), and people who love people (the poor ones) are so blatant that it's difficult to take them seriously until the end. What the film does well is equalize, for the most part, the good and the bad in people when faced with death. As we watch the characters accept their fates, both rich and poor behave the same. Both struggle to survive, and the ones that do are often the ones who are willing to behave immorally. If only Cameron had spent a little more time painting some shades of gray instead of patronizing poor people by proclaiming their supposed virtues (other rich white people as well as long winded Russian novelists tend to do this. Probably to assuage their guilt about taking advantage of the lower class, but I digress). Maybe it's partly because I love epics, and maybe because the movie is pretty good after all (not great), but I do understand why this movie won its best picture awards, and I approve that the Academy was willing to support a movie which combined blockbuster effects with thematic elements.
I'm not sure if the plot of Avatar holds up in the same way as the Titanic does. Though Avatar has anti-war and environmentalist themes, it lacks any progression of those themes. There isn't the same "oh shit" moment that Titanic has at the horror of watching the boat sink, and the ways in which different characters face their guilt. The closest Avatar has to something like that is the discovery of how the Pandora wildlife is connected like a network of computers, and the obvious point about our own ecosystems that follows.
What Avatar is praised most for is, however, the incredible world and the cgi that brings it to life in 3-D. I felt watching the movie that I was experiencing something similar to what people saw when 2001: A Space Odyssey came out. There has never been a movie made quite like Avatar in terms of special effects, or one that has used the new 3-D technology not as a gimmick, but as an essential part of bringing a director's vision to life. The problem with Avatar is, that without it's 3-D trappings, it wouldn't have even gotten a nomination, and preserving the film for posterity might be difficult because our current TV's and computers can't display the new digital 3-D. If Avatar's plot isn't half good enough to win a best picture, and it's legacy may never be a film to watch over and over again but instead only known for its box office records, then there might not be any purpose in giving this movie a Best Picture Award.
It probably won't win anyways, and if the Hurt Locker wins, the Academy has done well by me. Maybe when the Hurt Locker does win people will actually go see it.
Oh, and if the title still needs to be answered, I'm okay with the Titanic winning, but I don't think Avatar should.
Let's start with looking at what the Academy tries to do. One of its functions is to promote movies as an art form rather than popcorn entertainment. This is why it tends to ignore movies like Transformers, and favor movies like Precious (which I haven't seen). Even though the Academy is oftentimes egregiously annoying (I still haven't forgiven them for not even nominating The Dark Knight for best picture, which both hurt their credibility and showed open disdain for the public and most critics), still it performs a valuable function which is to make people go out and see movies that they might not otherwise see. Between the months of January and March, many people will find themselves stumbling into the art house theaters to catch a movie which might actually be good rather then showing up to the nearest Regal Cineplex to fork over their money for a movie they're already convinced will be above average at best, below the lowest common denominator more often. If the Academy even gets a few people to take a chance on a good movie every once in a while, it is a positive force in the world, even if it is pretentious and self-aggrandizing.
Another important function of the Academy, is that it might make a viewer reexamine a past movie which he may have shrugged off on first viewing, but it might deserve a second chance. Most recently for myself, that movie was Titanic, and it surprised me a bit. When the movie came out it was over hyped and quickly became such a cultural force that separating the film itself from its surroundings was nearly impossible. Citizen Kane is similar when you watch it for the first time. The position these films occupy in our culture makes it harder to see them for what they are. For Titanic it's cultural position is still too near for me to become objective, and every time the stupid love theme played (you know it, the one by Celine Dion) I shuddered. Still, the movie, if inferior to one of the other nominees from 1997, L.A. Confidential, is a great example of an exciting blockbuster which builds up themes and take them to a satisfying conclusion. Cameron, as he always does, paints his lead characters in absurdly broad strokes. So much so that when Billy Zane's character begins chasing Kate & Leo around the ship, he reminded me most of the hilariously campy villain played by Gary Oldman in "The 5th Element." The lines drawn between people who love money (the rich ones), and people who love people (the poor ones) are so blatant that it's difficult to take them seriously until the end. What the film does well is equalize, for the most part, the good and the bad in people when faced with death. As we watch the characters accept their fates, both rich and poor behave the same. Both struggle to survive, and the ones that do are often the ones who are willing to behave immorally. If only Cameron had spent a little more time painting some shades of gray instead of patronizing poor people by proclaiming their supposed virtues (other rich white people as well as long winded Russian novelists tend to do this. Probably to assuage their guilt about taking advantage of the lower class, but I digress). Maybe it's partly because I love epics, and maybe because the movie is pretty good after all (not great), but I do understand why this movie won its best picture awards, and I approve that the Academy was willing to support a movie which combined blockbuster effects with thematic elements.
I'm not sure if the plot of Avatar holds up in the same way as the Titanic does. Though Avatar has anti-war and environmentalist themes, it lacks any progression of those themes. There isn't the same "oh shit" moment that Titanic has at the horror of watching the boat sink, and the ways in which different characters face their guilt. The closest Avatar has to something like that is the discovery of how the Pandora wildlife is connected like a network of computers, and the obvious point about our own ecosystems that follows.
What Avatar is praised most for is, however, the incredible world and the cgi that brings it to life in 3-D. I felt watching the movie that I was experiencing something similar to what people saw when 2001: A Space Odyssey came out. There has never been a movie made quite like Avatar in terms of special effects, or one that has used the new 3-D technology not as a gimmick, but as an essential part of bringing a director's vision to life. The problem with Avatar is, that without it's 3-D trappings, it wouldn't have even gotten a nomination, and preserving the film for posterity might be difficult because our current TV's and computers can't display the new digital 3-D. If Avatar's plot isn't half good enough to win a best picture, and it's legacy may never be a film to watch over and over again but instead only known for its box office records, then there might not be any purpose in giving this movie a Best Picture Award.
It probably won't win anyways, and if the Hurt Locker wins, the Academy has done well by me. Maybe when the Hurt Locker does win people will actually go see it.
Oh, and if the title still needs to be answered, I'm okay with the Titanic winning, but I don't think Avatar should.
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Big Bad Woolf
"Truth, Illusions, what's the difference?"
-George in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf
I'm tired of people being proud of not being afraid. I'm not talking about the fear of public speaking, or of heights, but one the most basic fears we have as social human beings is that one day, we'll be found out. Somebody, somewhere will discover what lies beneath the personas we put on day to day. We need to put on a persona because our inner lives are so convoluted and corrupt that it needs to be hidden away, and we do this by creating a public image, much like presidential candidates and actors do. As people not in the public eye, however, we are not stuck in one public image, but instead we shift from one character to the next. Around my employers, or my students I behave one way, but around my friends or my family I might behave entirely differently. Each person will come to know me as a certain person, but none will see me exactly the same as the next, because I behave differently around all of them. This could be interpreted as being creepy, but really it's just the nature of being friendly and empathetic. The series of personas we put on forces us to consider which one is the "real" one. Which persona is Joe qua Joe? This question is at the heart of the movie/play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," and yes, it scares me.
The story focuses on the witty and cruel banter between George and Martha, a husband and wife who both love and hate each other. They take turns attacking each other in what seems to be their weakest points. After a dinner party they invite over a newlywed couple and immediately begin to argue in front of them. They play extravagant roles for this couple, and the newlyweds, like the viewer, can never seem to figure out if George and Martha are in love or if they hate one another. This question, it turns out, is meaningless. Martha strongly comes onto her young attractive guest, while George berates his wife in every manner possible. We all come to understand eventually that this is just one of the many "games" the happy couple plays. For each game they play, George and Martha put on a certain face. In some games George plays the role of the offender, in others the offended. Neither persona suits them better than the other, and they switch back and forth seamlessly between the two. As the evening wears on, it starts to become clear that their terrible behavior is not, as it first appears, out of cruelty, but rather, it is a final effort to distract each other. They spend so much of their lives focusing on their spouse, who they love and hate, because so long as they focus on this other, they can avoid dealing with their own self who they fear and loathe more than anything else.
This is what a "distraction" is. So long as we have a persona which we can build up, and so long as we have an 'other' to compare our personas to, we can pretend that the illusions of our personae are real and we hope that the persona is more "real" than the horrific being that we know lurks in the depths of our mind. In Who's Afriad of Virginia Woolf the most disturbing thing, is realizing this, and seeing how cruel George and Martha are willing to be just to avoid facing themselves. When we learn that the very foundation of their relationship is an illusion, though it shouldn't come as a surprise, it does reveal just how far they are willing to go to avoid looking at themselves in earnest. And when that illusion is destroyed in public, as happens in the movie, the couple is left by themselves. The young man comes to see through so many layers of the couple that each layer is just another level of illusion built up to protect the vulnerable sadness, and evil beneath. What's worse is that he sees himself in this pair. That even if he pretends to be better than them he is merely playing a part. Putting up another illusion to be inevitably peeled away. When all the layers are gone, who knows what horrible being remains. Before the end credits we are left with these harrowing lines:
George: "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" (sung to the tune of Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf)
Martha: I am.
And she should be.
P. S. If you're wondering about the title, the question of perception and personae is the central theme of "To the Lighthouse," but I'm convinced that the treatment of the subject is even darker in this play than it is in Woolf's book. Maybe the play isn't "darker," just a little more French.
-George in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf
I'm tired of people being proud of not being afraid. I'm not talking about the fear of public speaking, or of heights, but one the most basic fears we have as social human beings is that one day, we'll be found out. Somebody, somewhere will discover what lies beneath the personas we put on day to day. We need to put on a persona because our inner lives are so convoluted and corrupt that it needs to be hidden away, and we do this by creating a public image, much like presidential candidates and actors do. As people not in the public eye, however, we are not stuck in one public image, but instead we shift from one character to the next. Around my employers, or my students I behave one way, but around my friends or my family I might behave entirely differently. Each person will come to know me as a certain person, but none will see me exactly the same as the next, because I behave differently around all of them. This could be interpreted as being creepy, but really it's just the nature of being friendly and empathetic. The series of personas we put on forces us to consider which one is the "real" one. Which persona is Joe qua Joe? This question is at the heart of the movie/play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," and yes, it scares me.
The story focuses on the witty and cruel banter between George and Martha, a husband and wife who both love and hate each other. They take turns attacking each other in what seems to be their weakest points. After a dinner party they invite over a newlywed couple and immediately begin to argue in front of them. They play extravagant roles for this couple, and the newlyweds, like the viewer, can never seem to figure out if George and Martha are in love or if they hate one another. This question, it turns out, is meaningless. Martha strongly comes onto her young attractive guest, while George berates his wife in every manner possible. We all come to understand eventually that this is just one of the many "games" the happy couple plays. For each game they play, George and Martha put on a certain face. In some games George plays the role of the offender, in others the offended. Neither persona suits them better than the other, and they switch back and forth seamlessly between the two. As the evening wears on, it starts to become clear that their terrible behavior is not, as it first appears, out of cruelty, but rather, it is a final effort to distract each other. They spend so much of their lives focusing on their spouse, who they love and hate, because so long as they focus on this other, they can avoid dealing with their own self who they fear and loathe more than anything else.
This is what a "distraction" is. So long as we have a persona which we can build up, and so long as we have an 'other' to compare our personas to, we can pretend that the illusions of our personae are real and we hope that the persona is more "real" than the horrific being that we know lurks in the depths of our mind. In Who's Afriad of Virginia Woolf the most disturbing thing, is realizing this, and seeing how cruel George and Martha are willing to be just to avoid facing themselves. When we learn that the very foundation of their relationship is an illusion, though it shouldn't come as a surprise, it does reveal just how far they are willing to go to avoid looking at themselves in earnest. And when that illusion is destroyed in public, as happens in the movie, the couple is left by themselves. The young man comes to see through so many layers of the couple that each layer is just another level of illusion built up to protect the vulnerable sadness, and evil beneath. What's worse is that he sees himself in this pair. That even if he pretends to be better than them he is merely playing a part. Putting up another illusion to be inevitably peeled away. When all the layers are gone, who knows what horrible being remains. Before the end credits we are left with these harrowing lines:
George: "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" (sung to the tune of Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf)
Martha: I am.
And she should be.
P. S. If you're wondering about the title, the question of perception and personae is the central theme of "To the Lighthouse," but I'm convinced that the treatment of the subject is even darker in this play than it is in Woolf's book. Maybe the play isn't "darker," just a little more French.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Sophie's Choice and Meryl Streep
Sophie's choice is a movie that, when considering watching it for the first time, is daunting. If you know anything about the book or movie I would expect it to seem daunting for these three reasons: 1.) It's almost 3 hours long. 2.) It seems like it's one of those stuffy dramas that only uptight fancy-boy filmgoers will enjoy (I'm not implying homosexuality here, just the artsy types, you know, those types), and 3.) It's a real bummer of a film. While I cannot deny that the length of the film is quite long, the other claims(which of course I just made up. Take that straw man!), were negated by what happened when I actually watched the film.
The movie was not the slow paced melodrama I expected, but rather an lively coming of age tale about love, loving life and, what always follows, death. That description makes this movie sound like Garden State, and it is surely not Garden State. Had the plot been conceived today, it would be easy to take it as a rebuttal to the traditional indie flick. Rather than starting with a character who is bored with life and looking to die, early in the movie Sophie and her lover seem to be happy and in love. Rather than learning to love and live, the characters in Sophie's Choice learn that these things are exactly what they can no longer do. Perhaps now I'm describing the difference between a comedy and a tragedy, but there are three main characters in Sophie's Choice, and even while two of its characters hurtle toward an unhappy end, the third is coming into his adulthood, and it is through his lens that we view the entire story. If his story is the main one, then maybe Sophie's choice is more like an indie flick, and perhaps has the most in common with the birth mother of all indies, Harold and Maude. Both movies interweave their dramatic stories with laughter, and there is so much joy in parts of each that when the tragic parts are revealed, the sadness that comes with them is felt more deeply.
The performances as well as the story quickly earn goodwill towards the characters, and that goodwill is used to add weight to Sophie's story of her time in a concentration camp. What, perhaps stupidly, I didn't see until the end, was that each of the moments both in the past and present was a series of choices made by each of the characters sending them down their different paths. Each of these choices, whether they are the seemingly insignificant ones of moving into a pink apartment, or the large ones of choosing which child you love more, affect us in ways we cannot predict. For Sophie and Nathan, her lover, they have, by some combination of fate and choice, been led to such a place that they cannot bear to remember themselves. The cheeriness they have at the beginning is not what we are originally led to believe. Their cheer is a mixture of drugs, alcohol and most importantly, their over emotional, over dramatic love for each other. Every fight, every fuck is a chance for them to forget the choices they made which brought them to every moment.
It's terrifying to ponder that we constantly make these choices, and slowly our destinies are written out. Each choice is made by what we believe to be the best decision, but oftentimes it is not. Sophie, as she is waiting outside of Auschwitz is harassed by a German officer. She remains silent, and so he walks away. As he is leaving, she thinks she sees an opportunity for her to be freed, so she calls out to him in an attempt to charm him. What the sadistic officer gives her is not a chance to live, but rather a choice between sacrificing one child or the other. Colloquially, Sophie's Choice refers to the second decision she has to make. It means an impossible choice that must be made. What, perhaps it should refer to is the decision to call back the officer. It was not entirely bad luck and ill fate that made her choose between her children, but that moment when she called back the officer, that put her in that position. It's a sad fact that each day we stumble through thousands of choices, and each day we hope they work out in our favor. Still, no matter how well thought through a choice is, it always might end up being a poor decision which causes you to walk right into an impossible choice.
But what separates this movie from perhaps any other film is how much weight falls upon Meryl Streep, and how well she handles it. There have been many great performances in the history of movies. Peter O'Toole in Lawrence of Arabia comes to mind first, but I don't think I've ever seen a movie where my opinion of it would change so much without the addition of a single actor. Lawrence of Arabia might not be as good of a movie without Peter O'Toole, but I think I would still enjoy watching it. I'm almost certain that without Meryl Streep, Sophie's Choice would whither and die. Her accent and difficulties speaking English seem perfectly natural, as does every emotion she feels throughout the film, and she goes through an extensive range of emotions. Her expressions allow us to understand why she loves a sometimes abusive schizophrenic man, and take us past the dialogue into understanding each of the decisions she makes that lead her to her fate.
Acting is a thing that a movie can harness in a way no other medium can. In plays it is impossible for an actor to pull off a perfect performance, but because of the ability to shoot and re-shoot scenes of a movie, the meticulousness of the actors and directors can come through in a way unlike any other format. Silent movies perhaps prove this more than any other. Look at Buster Keaton's facial expressions during any of his movies. He has a determined, strong expression which dares anyone, or anything to get between him and his goal. The expression tells us more about the character than any of the brief dialogue. Pulling that off in a play isn't possible. A play requires exaggerated gestures because the audience is further away than in film. In this post and the last, i suppose what I've been driving at is that cameras in film allow for an intimacy with the actors and the characters that cannot be replicated by a play. I'm not attempting to say that movies are superior than plays, but I am trying to explain how movies are able to explore humanity in ways that plays cannot, and explain to myself what I am even looking for in a movie that would make me call it great.
The movie was not the slow paced melodrama I expected, but rather an lively coming of age tale about love, loving life and, what always follows, death. That description makes this movie sound like Garden State, and it is surely not Garden State. Had the plot been conceived today, it would be easy to take it as a rebuttal to the traditional indie flick. Rather than starting with a character who is bored with life and looking to die, early in the movie Sophie and her lover seem to be happy and in love. Rather than learning to love and live, the characters in Sophie's Choice learn that these things are exactly what they can no longer do. Perhaps now I'm describing the difference between a comedy and a tragedy, but there are three main characters in Sophie's Choice, and even while two of its characters hurtle toward an unhappy end, the third is coming into his adulthood, and it is through his lens that we view the entire story. If his story is the main one, then maybe Sophie's choice is more like an indie flick, and perhaps has the most in common with the birth mother of all indies, Harold and Maude. Both movies interweave their dramatic stories with laughter, and there is so much joy in parts of each that when the tragic parts are revealed, the sadness that comes with them is felt more deeply.
The performances as well as the story quickly earn goodwill towards the characters, and that goodwill is used to add weight to Sophie's story of her time in a concentration camp. What, perhaps stupidly, I didn't see until the end, was that each of the moments both in the past and present was a series of choices made by each of the characters sending them down their different paths. Each of these choices, whether they are the seemingly insignificant ones of moving into a pink apartment, or the large ones of choosing which child you love more, affect us in ways we cannot predict. For Sophie and Nathan, her lover, they have, by some combination of fate and choice, been led to such a place that they cannot bear to remember themselves. The cheeriness they have at the beginning is not what we are originally led to believe. Their cheer is a mixture of drugs, alcohol and most importantly, their over emotional, over dramatic love for each other. Every fight, every fuck is a chance for them to forget the choices they made which brought them to every moment.
It's terrifying to ponder that we constantly make these choices, and slowly our destinies are written out. Each choice is made by what we believe to be the best decision, but oftentimes it is not. Sophie, as she is waiting outside of Auschwitz is harassed by a German officer. She remains silent, and so he walks away. As he is leaving, she thinks she sees an opportunity for her to be freed, so she calls out to him in an attempt to charm him. What the sadistic officer gives her is not a chance to live, but rather a choice between sacrificing one child or the other. Colloquially, Sophie's Choice refers to the second decision she has to make. It means an impossible choice that must be made. What, perhaps it should refer to is the decision to call back the officer. It was not entirely bad luck and ill fate that made her choose between her children, but that moment when she called back the officer, that put her in that position. It's a sad fact that each day we stumble through thousands of choices, and each day we hope they work out in our favor. Still, no matter how well thought through a choice is, it always might end up being a poor decision which causes you to walk right into an impossible choice.
But what separates this movie from perhaps any other film is how much weight falls upon Meryl Streep, and how well she handles it. There have been many great performances in the history of movies. Peter O'Toole in Lawrence of Arabia comes to mind first, but I don't think I've ever seen a movie where my opinion of it would change so much without the addition of a single actor. Lawrence of Arabia might not be as good of a movie without Peter O'Toole, but I think I would still enjoy watching it. I'm almost certain that without Meryl Streep, Sophie's Choice would whither and die. Her accent and difficulties speaking English seem perfectly natural, as does every emotion she feels throughout the film, and she goes through an extensive range of emotions. Her expressions allow us to understand why she loves a sometimes abusive schizophrenic man, and take us past the dialogue into understanding each of the decisions she makes that lead her to her fate.
Acting is a thing that a movie can harness in a way no other medium can. In plays it is impossible for an actor to pull off a perfect performance, but because of the ability to shoot and re-shoot scenes of a movie, the meticulousness of the actors and directors can come through in a way unlike any other format. Silent movies perhaps prove this more than any other. Look at Buster Keaton's facial expressions during any of his movies. He has a determined, strong expression which dares anyone, or anything to get between him and his goal. The expression tells us more about the character than any of the brief dialogue. Pulling that off in a play isn't possible. A play requires exaggerated gestures because the audience is further away than in film. In this post and the last, i suppose what I've been driving at is that cameras in film allow for an intimacy with the actors and the characters that cannot be replicated by a play. I'm not attempting to say that movies are superior than plays, but I am trying to explain how movies are able to explore humanity in ways that plays cannot, and explain to myself what I am even looking for in a movie that would make me call it great.
Monday, February 8, 2010
The Greatness of Movies
For some time now I've been watching as many of the greatest movies ever made as I can. Years ago I became interested in reading film criticism, mostly off of the A.V. Club website, and then in Roger Ebert's film reviews. He is famous for writing scathing reviews of hackneyed movies, but more interestingly, he writes about movies from a pop philosophical perspective. Many of his reviews reach beyond what we might think of as film criticism and act as stand alone essays. An example is this one of Synecdoche, NY, which is a baffling movie when first watched, but on repeat viewings becomes one of the best movies I've ever seen. I purposively say "best" rather than favorite. Without his review ( http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20081105/REVIEWS/811059995 ) I think I might never have gone back to watch it a second time, but his writing made the movie sound so appealing, I had to see it again. Like Ebert, I'm not done with it, and will watch it again (.
His ongoing project is to review many of his old favorites in the "Great Movies" section of the Chicago Times Website, and oftentimes his reviews will make me work harder to understand why these movies is so revered. Like the AFI, I do feel like there is a bias towards older films, and even after trying to enjoy some of these movies I still found them quite boring and pointless. Still, because of this list, and because of these reviews, and have stumbled upon some movies which have expanded what I even thought possible to do with a movie.
This is the first of hopefully many posts in which I record, and process my thoughts about cinema (using the words cinema and film instead of movies is how to make yourself sound smart!), and explain why film can be not just entertaining, but as rewarding as reading a great book, or going to the opera, or watching a play. So here we go.
To make movies a valid art form there needs to be a specific reason as to why a story needs to be told using a camera rather than any other method. I imagine that the early plays were popular because they were able to do something that traditional storytelling was not, which was to provide a living embodiment of a character with which the audience could empathize with more immediately. A character is no longer something in the imagination, but has taken a physical form and can speak to the audience directly, or interact with his fellow characters. The empathy of the viewer becomes more engaged as the emotions and pains of the actor are more real than in story form. There may be other advantages to using the form of a play over story, but it seems that the main one is to draw out the emotions of the audience even more than stories.
I feel that the above paragraph doesn't even come close to doing justice to the topic, and perhaps I'll explain more later. For now, it'll have to do.
Movies, then it seems, have to be able to express something, or bring some preexisting aspect of storytelling to the foreground that can't be done as well in plays, poems, stories or novels. While thinking about this, I again stumbled across the Hitchcock movie "Notorious," and it revealed to me a small portion of how movies can do something unique among storytelling formats (I'll talk more directly about Notorious in a different post). As silly as it sounds, my revelation about movies was this: they use a camera to make them. The wonderful invention of the camera let's the viewer quite literally see what a character sees. It allows the director to focus in on tiny details, and microscopic reactions in the faces of characters without dwelling on any of them. In a novel, when a detail is pointed out it can throw off the rhythm of the story, while in a movie, if a camera lovingly flickers over a key being passed off between two people while maintaining the action at a constant pace. When a glimmer of a smile passes across an actor's face oftentimes the viewer won't even be sure he saw it. Or as an example, near the end of the movie, "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," while Spencer Tracy (who in real life was ill and dying) was giving a final, long speech about love and race and everything, in the back of the shot his wife, played by Katherine Hepburn, begins to well up. The light glistens off each tear as she stands silently in the background, not even in focus. In a movie i found otherwise unaffecting, seeing those tears in her eyes overwhelmed. The beauty of that shot could go unnoticed because of its subtlety. Later, Robert Osborne (The guy who hosts most TCM things) informed me that those tears were not planned, but actually Katherine Hepburn realizing she was witnessing perhaps the last time anyone would ever see Spencer Tracy acting. That fact made it even more interesting to me that I found the shot so incredible.
These little moments, which continually I find to be the most affecting parts of movies, are one reason why movies do something no other genre can do. It might not seem like much, but never before movies, were actors able to bring so much to a story without drawing attention to themselves. These powerful moments, lurking in the background of great movies are something that cannot be replicated. Plays might try, but think about this. In the movie Rosencrantz and Guildernstern are dead, Gary Oldman (whichever he was), throughout, was discovering the laws of physics through accident, and when he did so it was briefly acknowledged by the camera and then passed over. This wasn't part of the script for the play on which the movie was based. If, even in a play a director tried to accomplish this, it would require that he draw attention to that behavior. Because of the virtues of movies, however, Stoppard was able to show us this display (which is the most memorable part of the movie for me). It's often been quoted to me from somewhere, that there's no such thing as subtlety in filmmaking. I think that's wrong, and that subtlety tends to exist in films in a way that it cannot exist anywhere else.
This only seems to cover a tiny portion of why film is great, and I hope to expand on this post in the next.
It's getting late, and I'm getting tired. Good night y'all.
His ongoing project is to review many of his old favorites in the "Great Movies" section of the Chicago Times Website, and oftentimes his reviews will make me work harder to understand why these movies is so revered. Like the AFI, I do feel like there is a bias towards older films, and even after trying to enjoy some of these movies I still found them quite boring and pointless. Still, because of this list, and because of these reviews, and have stumbled upon some movies which have expanded what I even thought possible to do with a movie.
This is the first of hopefully many posts in which I record, and process my thoughts about cinema (using the words cinema and film instead of movies is how to make yourself sound smart!), and explain why film can be not just entertaining, but as rewarding as reading a great book, or going to the opera, or watching a play. So here we go.
To make movies a valid art form there needs to be a specific reason as to why a story needs to be told using a camera rather than any other method. I imagine that the early plays were popular because they were able to do something that traditional storytelling was not, which was to provide a living embodiment of a character with which the audience could empathize with more immediately. A character is no longer something in the imagination, but has taken a physical form and can speak to the audience directly, or interact with his fellow characters. The empathy of the viewer becomes more engaged as the emotions and pains of the actor are more real than in story form. There may be other advantages to using the form of a play over story, but it seems that the main one is to draw out the emotions of the audience even more than stories.
I feel that the above paragraph doesn't even come close to doing justice to the topic, and perhaps I'll explain more later. For now, it'll have to do.
Movies, then it seems, have to be able to express something, or bring some preexisting aspect of storytelling to the foreground that can't be done as well in plays, poems, stories or novels. While thinking about this, I again stumbled across the Hitchcock movie "Notorious," and it revealed to me a small portion of how movies can do something unique among storytelling formats (I'll talk more directly about Notorious in a different post). As silly as it sounds, my revelation about movies was this: they use a camera to make them. The wonderful invention of the camera let's the viewer quite literally see what a character sees. It allows the director to focus in on tiny details, and microscopic reactions in the faces of characters without dwelling on any of them. In a novel, when a detail is pointed out it can throw off the rhythm of the story, while in a movie, if a camera lovingly flickers over a key being passed off between two people while maintaining the action at a constant pace. When a glimmer of a smile passes across an actor's face oftentimes the viewer won't even be sure he saw it. Or as an example, near the end of the movie, "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," while Spencer Tracy (who in real life was ill and dying) was giving a final, long speech about love and race and everything, in the back of the shot his wife, played by Katherine Hepburn, begins to well up. The light glistens off each tear as she stands silently in the background, not even in focus. In a movie i found otherwise unaffecting, seeing those tears in her eyes overwhelmed. The beauty of that shot could go unnoticed because of its subtlety. Later, Robert Osborne (The guy who hosts most TCM things) informed me that those tears were not planned, but actually Katherine Hepburn realizing she was witnessing perhaps the last time anyone would ever see Spencer Tracy acting. That fact made it even more interesting to me that I found the shot so incredible.
These little moments, which continually I find to be the most affecting parts of movies, are one reason why movies do something no other genre can do. It might not seem like much, but never before movies, were actors able to bring so much to a story without drawing attention to themselves. These powerful moments, lurking in the background of great movies are something that cannot be replicated. Plays might try, but think about this. In the movie Rosencrantz and Guildernstern are dead, Gary Oldman (whichever he was), throughout, was discovering the laws of physics through accident, and when he did so it was briefly acknowledged by the camera and then passed over. This wasn't part of the script for the play on which the movie was based. If, even in a play a director tried to accomplish this, it would require that he draw attention to that behavior. Because of the virtues of movies, however, Stoppard was able to show us this display (which is the most memorable part of the movie for me). It's often been quoted to me from somewhere, that there's no such thing as subtlety in filmmaking. I think that's wrong, and that subtlety tends to exist in films in a way that it cannot exist anywhere else.
This only seems to cover a tiny portion of why film is great, and I hope to expand on this post in the next.
It's getting late, and I'm getting tired. Good night y'all.
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