Last night I watched Ingmar Bergman's 1957 classic film Wild Strawberries, one of his lighter bleak looks at modern life, particularly modern life in Sweden. Bergman spent most of his career rebelling against organized religion, government, and even God him (her) self. In this film we spend a day with a 77 year old doctor who is receiving a national award for his service. From his early dreams to his last dream of the evening, he relives vital and often painful moments from his life. Much of this happens as he is driving several hundred miles to the ceremony with his daughter-in-law, the incandescent Ingrid Thulin. Along the way they pick up three young hikers who provide a fresh contrast to the old man's isolated views. They are also met with a near-death experience when an arguing couple lose control of their car. These two are so obnoxious they are finally evicted from the old man's car.
The doctor's dreams are strongly influenced by familiar surreal images: clocks without hands, faces without full features, a casket falling and disgorging (no surprise) the body of the doctor himself. More important are his memories of his youth where he watches his brother seduce his intended and his unhappy wife have an affair. Throughout all of these experiences, the doctor learns that he has become a cold, unfeeling man who has passed on his coldness to his son, a man who believes in nothing.
Bergman creates a film that has more humor and light than one would expect from such a plot. Unlike his heavier films (The Seventh Seal, The Virgin Spring), Wild Strawberries holds possibilities for healing and redemption. The young hikers sing a farewell blessing for the old man, his formerly cool daughter-in-law warms to him and he to her, and his son seems more human. The last scene is a dream in which the doctor is returned to his childhood and welcomed like a prodigal coming home.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Whispers and Lies
In the past few weeks, we have witnessed a supposedly whirlwind of anger, shouting, and downright rudeness concerning the government's attempts to improve national health care. What is so surprising is that few of these protesters seem to realize several truths.
1. Medicare IS a government program and covers the majority of the senior citizens who are screaming about government interference. One woman famously shouted that she did not want any government involvement in her health care and then said, "But don't take away my Medicare!"
2. Our nation's health care system is the most expensive in the world and that cost is growing at an uncontrollable rate.
3. Of the major developed countries, the U.S.A. ranks considerably lower in almost every area of health care, including infant mortality.
4. There is no health care bill as yet. Everything is still in committee.
5. There will be no death panels, as Silly Sarah said on her face book page. Therefore, I and many other grandparents are safe!
6. Without the public option, insurance costs will continue to skyrocket and fewer people will receive coverage.
7. Under an effective system, insurers cannot deny coverage because of pre-existing conditions.
SO WHY ARE SO MANY PEOPLE SCREAMING?!
1. Medicare IS a government program and covers the majority of the senior citizens who are screaming about government interference. One woman famously shouted that she did not want any government involvement in her health care and then said, "But don't take away my Medicare!"
2. Our nation's health care system is the most expensive in the world and that cost is growing at an uncontrollable rate.
3. Of the major developed countries, the U.S.A. ranks considerably lower in almost every area of health care, including infant mortality.
4. There is no health care bill as yet. Everything is still in committee.
5. There will be no death panels, as Silly Sarah said on her face book page. Therefore, I and many other grandparents are safe!
6. Without the public option, insurance costs will continue to skyrocket and fewer people will receive coverage.
7. Under an effective system, insurers cannot deny coverage because of pre-existing conditions.
SO WHY ARE SO MANY PEOPLE SCREAMING?!
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Must Sees: FROZEN RIVER, PUBLIC ENEMIES
Surely one of the reasons the Academy decided to expand its Best Film category from 5 to 10 films has to be Frozen River, a 2008 independent film directed by Courtney Hunt. Nominated for Best Actress, Melissa Leo plays a woman desperately trying to better her life and the lives of her two sons after her husband has deserted her. The river of the title is on the border of the U.S. and Canada. When life comes crushing down on Ray Eddy, she resorts to carrying illegal immigrants across the frozen river. Her partner is an outcast Mohawk girl who declares that a white driver will never be stopped by the police. The complications that ensue create a realistic drama filled with tension and tragedy. Now, if this sounds like a real downer, it is. But it is also one of the most involving films I have seen since In the Bedroom, another family drama that enthralled many of us a few years ago. In both, the characters are fully believable beings stretched to their breaking points, and in both the acting is superior to that of many award winners. Frozen River and In the Bedroom are both available on DVD.
On the big screen Johnny Depp is blazing away in Michael Mann's smart and shiny new gangster film Public Enemies. It's plural for several reasons. First, it is not to be confused with James Cagney's classic film from 1931. And, John Dillinger, who Depp plays with a rough suaveness that this guy probably never had, is joined by a rather dense Pretty Boy Floyd and a crazed Baby Face Nelson. But this movie concentrates its energies on sleek cars, tense bank heists and escapes, and a touching love affair. Dillinger's moll is played by the superb French actress Marion Cottiard, who won one of the most deserved Oscars in film history as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose. The camera loves both of these people and they recall the great days of key lighting and shimmering images of Tyrone Power, Greta Garbo, and many more. Some criticized this film as being cold and lifeless. Perhaps they sat through Transformers 2 and went to sleep. Public Enemies has all the virtues of Mann's best works: Last of the Mohicans, Miami Vice(the tv series), and Manhunter. Mann's visual and aural sensibilities are beautifully attuned to his subjects, yet style never overwhelms substance.
Not a shot is wasted in this fast, slick melodrama. Whether it is the parade of polished vintage cars or Marion Cottiard's flickering, tear-filled eyes, Mann is first and foremost a teller of beautiful tales. Both Cottiard as Dillinger's woman and Johnny Depp as the man himself manage to be both larger than life fashion icons as well as believable human beings. Mann also gives fair time and understanding to the law with Billy Cruddup almost stealing the film as a steely but pompous (and potentially dangerous) J. Edgar Hoover and a stern, close-mouthed Christian Bale as the chief investigator. Public Enemies is a feast for the eye and the mind.
Do we still care what happens to Harry Potter? You Betcha! In the sixth installment of this phenomenally popular film series, Harry and his friends are beset by death-eaters, an unsettling Draco, a fiendishly amusing Helena Bonham Carter, and raging hormones. Not much happens in Half-Blood Prince, yet it is consistently entertaining, suspenseful, and heartfelt. Yes, one of our major characters dies at the wands of the evil ones, but as he puts it, it was meant to be. There is also a great deal of humor in this episode, particularly driven by the awkwardness of friends in a boarding school falling in love. In that closed enviornment (I taught at a Hogwarts for 46 years!), everyone snoops or knows what the latest snog story is.
Amazingly, this series has grown up and its audience has grown with it. Now any person from kids to the retired set can enjoy Harry and his growth. All you need is imagination.
On the big screen Johnny Depp is blazing away in Michael Mann's smart and shiny new gangster film Public Enemies. It's plural for several reasons. First, it is not to be confused with James Cagney's classic film from 1931. And, John Dillinger, who Depp plays with a rough suaveness that this guy probably never had, is joined by a rather dense Pretty Boy Floyd and a crazed Baby Face Nelson. But this movie concentrates its energies on sleek cars, tense bank heists and escapes, and a touching love affair. Dillinger's moll is played by the superb French actress Marion Cottiard, who won one of the most deserved Oscars in film history as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose. The camera loves both of these people and they recall the great days of key lighting and shimmering images of Tyrone Power, Greta Garbo, and many more. Some criticized this film as being cold and lifeless. Perhaps they sat through Transformers 2 and went to sleep. Public Enemies has all the virtues of Mann's best works: Last of the Mohicans, Miami Vice(the tv series), and Manhunter. Mann's visual and aural sensibilities are beautifully attuned to his subjects, yet style never overwhelms substance.
Not a shot is wasted in this fast, slick melodrama. Whether it is the parade of polished vintage cars or Marion Cottiard's flickering, tear-filled eyes, Mann is first and foremost a teller of beautiful tales. Both Cottiard as Dillinger's woman and Johnny Depp as the man himself manage to be both larger than life fashion icons as well as believable human beings. Mann also gives fair time and understanding to the law with Billy Cruddup almost stealing the film as a steely but pompous (and potentially dangerous) J. Edgar Hoover and a stern, close-mouthed Christian Bale as the chief investigator. Public Enemies is a feast for the eye and the mind.
Do we still care what happens to Harry Potter? You Betcha! In the sixth installment of this phenomenally popular film series, Harry and his friends are beset by death-eaters, an unsettling Draco, a fiendishly amusing Helena Bonham Carter, and raging hormones. Not much happens in Half-Blood Prince, yet it is consistently entertaining, suspenseful, and heartfelt. Yes, one of our major characters dies at the wands of the evil ones, but as he puts it, it was meant to be. There is also a great deal of humor in this episode, particularly driven by the awkwardness of friends in a boarding school falling in love. In that closed enviornment (I taught at a Hogwarts for 46 years!), everyone snoops or knows what the latest snog story is.
Amazingly, this series has grown up and its audience has grown with it. Now any person from kids to the retired set can enjoy Harry and his growth. All you need is imagination.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Time to retire the Tudors!
No other historical family of the past has received as many dramatic renderings as has the Tudor line. The incarnations of Henry, his wives, and Elizabeth and Mary Queen of Scots are almost countless. Yet they keep coming. If we go back to the 1930's, we have Katharine Hepburn playing a regal but petulant Mary who pouts all the way to the block. Bette Davis under tons of white make-up faced off against a dashing Errol Flynn in THE PRIVATE LIVES OF ELIZABETH AND ESSEX, one of Warner's first color epics. Guess who won. Almost 20 years later she took on the role again, this time falling for Walter Raleigh.
In the 1960's a glowering Richard Burton took on the role of Henry VIII in ANNE OF A THOUSAND DAYS. Rolling his eyes with lust, he chased down a fiesty and sympathetic Genevieve Bujold as Anne Boleyn. This was perhaps the most fully realized view of Henry's second bride. Not to be outdone, a youthful Vanessa Redgrave played a highly engaging Mary Queen of Scots opposite an imperious Glenda Jackson as Elizabeth. No, they didn't meet in real life, but in reel life they do. In the same decade, Robert Shaw, who was just entering his prime, strutted across Fred Zinneman's stately but rather slow A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS, giving the film strength and vitality. His scenes as Henry trying to convince Paul Scofield to give up his principles was one of the film's best. The director used dazzling golden light to give Henry an almost godlike quality. Dressed in a golden outfit, Shaw contrasted with Scofield's drab, gray Thomas More.
Television, especially PBS, has kept the Tudor legacy alive with superb series about Henry and an especially fine series devoted to each of his hapless wives. Dorothy Tutin's Anne Bolyen was a highlight as was Glenda Jackson in her own series as Elizabeth. Sharing the screen with Jackson is an intimidating challenge, but the English system of grooming top actors for virtually any role helped make this series one of the best.
As we come to the recent past, we have yet another flood of Tudor mania. First Judi Dench stole an Oscar for about five minutes of emphatic English pronunciation in SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE. Then there was Kate Blanchet's bold interpretation of the young Elizabeth in the film of the same name. Later she returned in THE GOLDEN AGE, a spectacular but clumsy film not worthy of its cast. Not to be outdone, the grand dame of English TV and stage, Helen Mirren played the monarch as she defeats the Spanish and worries about her loss of sex appeal. It's better than it sounds. On the low end of this spate of English history is THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL with the thankless, totally bland Scarlet Johannson in the title role.
But the nadir of all this Tudor revivalism is HBO's THE TUDORS, an unashamedly sleazy, blatantly historical incorrect series starring movie bad boy Jonathan Rhys Meyers, who storms through the role with little variation of his standard pout. There is a great deal of sex in every episode and some violence, but the most bothersome element is the complete lack of historical accuracy.
So let's give the Tudor family a rest. Surely there are some other lusty, conniving historical families out there. How about the Borgias? Or the Kennedys?
In the 1960's a glowering Richard Burton took on the role of Henry VIII in ANNE OF A THOUSAND DAYS. Rolling his eyes with lust, he chased down a fiesty and sympathetic Genevieve Bujold as Anne Boleyn. This was perhaps the most fully realized view of Henry's second bride. Not to be outdone, a youthful Vanessa Redgrave played a highly engaging Mary Queen of Scots opposite an imperious Glenda Jackson as Elizabeth. No, they didn't meet in real life, but in reel life they do. In the same decade, Robert Shaw, who was just entering his prime, strutted across Fred Zinneman's stately but rather slow A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS, giving the film strength and vitality. His scenes as Henry trying to convince Paul Scofield to give up his principles was one of the film's best. The director used dazzling golden light to give Henry an almost godlike quality. Dressed in a golden outfit, Shaw contrasted with Scofield's drab, gray Thomas More.
Television, especially PBS, has kept the Tudor legacy alive with superb series about Henry and an especially fine series devoted to each of his hapless wives. Dorothy Tutin's Anne Bolyen was a highlight as was Glenda Jackson in her own series as Elizabeth. Sharing the screen with Jackson is an intimidating challenge, but the English system of grooming top actors for virtually any role helped make this series one of the best.
As we come to the recent past, we have yet another flood of Tudor mania. First Judi Dench stole an Oscar for about five minutes of emphatic English pronunciation in SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE. Then there was Kate Blanchet's bold interpretation of the young Elizabeth in the film of the same name. Later she returned in THE GOLDEN AGE, a spectacular but clumsy film not worthy of its cast. Not to be outdone, the grand dame of English TV and stage, Helen Mirren played the monarch as she defeats the Spanish and worries about her loss of sex appeal. It's better than it sounds. On the low end of this spate of English history is THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL with the thankless, totally bland Scarlet Johannson in the title role.
But the nadir of all this Tudor revivalism is HBO's THE TUDORS, an unashamedly sleazy, blatantly historical incorrect series starring movie bad boy Jonathan Rhys Meyers, who storms through the role with little variation of his standard pout. There is a great deal of sex in every episode and some violence, but the most bothersome element is the complete lack of historical accuracy.
So let's give the Tudor family a rest. Surely there are some other lusty, conniving historical families out there. How about the Borgias? Or the Kennedys?
Friday, June 26, 2009
Michael, We hardly knew you.
Pop Culture has a way of throwing its followers curve balls and spit balls, but last night's announcement of the death of "the King of Pop" was a real slicer. Putting aside all the strangeness that attended Michael Jackson's life after "Thriller," one cannot deny his incredible impact on popular music. When we listen to the fragmented, often unintelligible music of today, we can appreciate how Jackson united blacks, whites, Hispanics, everybody with songs like "Billie Jean." His music and performances had a seething energy that expressed both sex and innocence. The infectious arrangements made almost all of us want to get up and dance. What music today does that? Is it rap or the wailings of semi-talents on Amercian Idol? I don't think so. The 1980's was the last era of music bringing us together, just as the Beatles, Elvis Presley, and Frank Sinatra did in past generations. So farewell, Michael, and farewell to an audience that responds spontaneously as one group, despite its backgrounds.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Two delights in a baleful summer.
My friend and I managed to take in the new Pixar film Up and Sam Raimi's comic horror show Drag Me to Hell within two days. My wife Betsy accompanied us for the first but skipped Raimi.
What do these two have in common? A concerted effort by all concerned to entertain. Granted, Up is the far more memorable and effective film. The directors have have had the nerve to create an adventure led by a grumpy old man and an overweight, annoying child. No, there are no amusing fairy tale creatures, robots, monsters, toys, or Eddie Murphy. Instead, we have a tender story in which we see a man and a woman meet, grow, and grow old with each other and their dreams, all in a terrific 15 minute montage. Then the action begins, as the man and the boy are carried aloft by balloons to South America and Angel Falls. There they meet the famous explorer who inspired the man as a boy and a strange and beautiful bird that the explorer wants to trap. Naturally, humorous and exciting adventures insue, and the old man and boy come to depend on each other and love each other. Up is careful never to sink into cheap sentimentality or drum the messages into our heads. Instead, through superb animation and editing and the wonderful voices (Ed Asner as the old man), it sticks with us.
Drag Me to Hell, which is Raimi's return to his Evil Dead trilogy, pulls out a scary, campy bag of tricks that are mostly hoary but hugely entertaining. After a chilling prequel, we meet Alison Lohman as a bank employee longing for a promotion. When she turns town an ailing old woman with nasty nails and teeth, she receives a curse that she naturally ignores, but in the next three days she is visited by ghastly visions from demons that only she can see. Most of the fun comes from the sharp editing which often fools us just when we think we know what to expect. And the happy ending...oops, did I say happy ending? The surprise ending is a corker. Enjoy!
What do these two have in common? A concerted effort by all concerned to entertain. Granted, Up is the far more memorable and effective film. The directors have have had the nerve to create an adventure led by a grumpy old man and an overweight, annoying child. No, there are no amusing fairy tale creatures, robots, monsters, toys, or Eddie Murphy. Instead, we have a tender story in which we see a man and a woman meet, grow, and grow old with each other and their dreams, all in a terrific 15 minute montage. Then the action begins, as the man and the boy are carried aloft by balloons to South America and Angel Falls. There they meet the famous explorer who inspired the man as a boy and a strange and beautiful bird that the explorer wants to trap. Naturally, humorous and exciting adventures insue, and the old man and boy come to depend on each other and love each other. Up is careful never to sink into cheap sentimentality or drum the messages into our heads. Instead, through superb animation and editing and the wonderful voices (Ed Asner as the old man), it sticks with us.
Drag Me to Hell, which is Raimi's return to his Evil Dead trilogy, pulls out a scary, campy bag of tricks that are mostly hoary but hugely entertaining. After a chilling prequel, we meet Alison Lohman as a bank employee longing for a promotion. When she turns town an ailing old woman with nasty nails and teeth, she receives a curse that she naturally ignores, but in the next three days she is visited by ghastly visions from demons that only she can see. Most of the fun comes from the sharp editing which often fools us just when we think we know what to expect. And the happy ending...oops, did I say happy ending? The surprise ending is a corker. Enjoy!
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Been a long time.
Gosh, it's been since Feb. since I have posted. Life is busy. During that time I turned 70, visited grandkids and parents in Maryland, took Indonesian and Thai students on a tour of D.C. As May approached, we realized that we actually were going to be redundant in less than a Month (the Brit term for retirement). At least we made the decision. After 46 years for me and over 30 for Betsy, it's time. I still love the classroom, the freedom to teach concepts and stir up debate, and the students, but the old energy level is not what it used to be. It doesn't help that I often go to sleep listening to Sinatra's "September of My Years" album! I have been extraordinarily blessed with a loving wife, three terrific daughters and their partners, four beautiful grandkids, and a new heart in 2001. How many retirees can say they loved what they were doing (in the classroom, on the stage set, etc.)? Face it, I got to blather on about O'Connor, Hitchcock, and Caravaggio, to name a few, while enjoying them again and again.
Now what? No formal plans as of now, but we will get to D.C. when Kristin's new baby boy arrives in mid-June and we hope to take a month's driving tour of the west with a long stop north of L.A., where Chris, Cat and the boys are moving this summer. We wish all of you well in the months and years ahead.
Now what? No formal plans as of now, but we will get to D.C. when Kristin's new baby boy arrives in mid-June and we hope to take a month's driving tour of the west with a long stop north of L.A., where Chris, Cat and the boys are moving this summer. We wish all of you well in the months and years ahead.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Recently, David Denby of The New Yorker complained that this year's Best Picture nominees were light-weights in comparison to heavy hitters like last year's No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood. I am wondering if Denby has been eating spiders and worms instead of popcorn at the movies. Despite their technical achievements, both No Country and Blood were two of the most depressing, demoralizing films I have ever witnessed. The Coen Brothers have proved their ingenuity again and again with much finer films, especially O, Brother, Where Art Thou and Fargo. As for Daniel Day Lewis's one man orgy of hatred, I found the film and his performance one-note and ultimately exhausting.
As for this year's group, I can't fully speak yet. But I can say that I will definitely watch Slumdog Millionaire and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button again. Since both have the element of sentimental fantasy, you probably think I only enjoy noble endings. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Mike Nichols' Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was a far better film than the uplifting but worthy A Man for All Seasons, and its scathing humor and insights into American morality are still relevant today. No, the nominees this year, except for The Reader, are not on the "must be taken seriously" scale of last year's winners, but some of them are better films.
As for this year's group, I can't fully speak yet. But I can say that I will definitely watch Slumdog Millionaire and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button again. Since both have the element of sentimental fantasy, you probably think I only enjoy noble endings. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Mike Nichols' Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was a far better film than the uplifting but worthy A Man for All Seasons, and its scathing humor and insights into American morality are still relevant today. No, the nominees this year, except for The Reader, are not on the "must be taken seriously" scale of last year's winners, but some of them are better films.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Curious, Bittersweet Button
David Fincher, the director of such dark and disturbing fare as Seven, Fight Club, and Zodiac has taken an unexpected and beautifully structured turn in his new film The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. By now, most are aware of the plot and special effects miracles that power much of this fantastic tale, but they may not be ready for a film of such tender feelings and bittersweet meetings and partings. When a New Orleans mother dies in childbirth, her husband, recoiling at their newborn, takes the infant to an old folks home where the gentle young matron raises him. The child has been born as wizened old man and as the years go by, he becomes younger. Since he is in a place where mortality is omnipresent, he learns the value of love and loss. Eventually he goes to sea, stays in Russia where he has an impassioned affair with an English diplomat's wife, fights in World War II, and returns to New Orleans, a strapping milddeaged Brad Pitt. It is here in the middle of the film that he and his childhood friend Daisy reunite and eventually fulfill the love they have kept suppressed over the years. Daisy, the least developed of the film's characters, is played by Kate Blanchett, who somehow seems too alive, too "emotive" for this dreamlike film. Nevertheless, Pitt, now close to his own age of 44, gives these scenes a pathos rarely seen in his previous films. There is none of the snarkiness or cool detachment of films like Fight Club. Instead, there is a constant longing and sadness in those big blue eyes.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is filmed in beautiful shades of sepia, blue-gray, and occasionally bursts of old style movie color. Only rarely does Fincher allow symbolism to get in the way of the pervading melancholy that lifts this film from the ordinary picaresque adventure. Unlike Forrest Gump, written by the same screenwriter, this film does not push comedy and gushy sentimentality. Instead, like Pitt's measured and subtle performance, Benjamin Button maintains a balance of masterful storytelling with an ambience of sadness for people and places loved and lost, such as old New Orleans. How interesting it must have been for Pitt to watch his life in reverse at the very time that his golden boy image is giving way to a maturing adult.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is filmed in beautiful shades of sepia, blue-gray, and occasionally bursts of old style movie color. Only rarely does Fincher allow symbolism to get in the way of the pervading melancholy that lifts this film from the ordinary picaresque adventure. Unlike Forrest Gump, written by the same screenwriter, this film does not push comedy and gushy sentimentality. Instead, like Pitt's measured and subtle performance, Benjamin Button maintains a balance of masterful storytelling with an ambience of sadness for people and places loved and lost, such as old New Orleans. How interesting it must have been for Pitt to watch his life in reverse at the very time that his golden boy image is giving way to a maturing adult.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
It's December Already?!
I am still basking in the glory of Obama's stunning victory. Like many Americans, my wife and I, as well as my daughters and their children, hit the road for the ticket and were happily rewarded as was America. Betsy and I canvassed a neighborhood here in Rome to see if folks needed rides. We also went to a telephone party where we talked to volunteers in Colorado. They couldn't believe Georgians were calling them. Our three grandchildren--8, 6, and 1--hit the streets in Pittsburgh, PA both before and after the primaries. In the spirit of unity, the Clinton folks campaigned just as hard for Obama as they had for Hilary.
And on election day we got a call around 6 p.m from a girl in northwest Rome. It seems she had registered on the other far side of town, so we hustled out past Mt. Berry and found her with her four small children, including one 3 year old who was autistic. As we raced to beat the 7 o'clock poll closing, she told us that she was voting for Obama because he understood poor people like her. This was one of those moments that will stay with us. No, Obama didn't win Georgia, but he won her heart and many more like hers. We know that know human being can live up to the expectations heaped on the president-elect's back, but we hope he knows that we are with him for the long haul.
And on election day we got a call around 6 p.m from a girl in northwest Rome. It seems she had registered on the other far side of town, so we hustled out past Mt. Berry and found her with her four small children, including one 3 year old who was autistic. As we raced to beat the 7 o'clock poll closing, she told us that she was voting for Obama because he understood poor people like her. This was one of those moments that will stay with us. No, Obama didn't win Georgia, but he won her heart and many more like hers. We know that know human being can live up to the expectations heaped on the president-elect's back, but we hope he knows that we are with him for the long haul.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Mr. Smith, Mr. Obama, and Mr. McCain
Frank Capra's classic 1939 civics lesson Mr. Smith Goes to Washington seems as relevant today as it did just before World War II. Jefferson Smith, a naive boy scout leader from an unnamed mid-western state, is appointed to the U.S. Senate to be a tool of a corrupt political machine. Jeff's patriotic illusions are shot down by the press, the senate, his secretary, and even his mentor, the Silver Knight, Senator Paine. Once his secretary sees the light (read, falls in love with Smith), he smights the machine and cleans up Washington. Even in 1939 this was a fantasy. Today it is an absurd notion.
Parallets between Jimmy Stewart's "golly-gee" idealist Jeff Smith and Barack Obama, an attractive, smiling, intellectual but practical idealist are easy to sniff out, but Obama is no Jeff Smith. He's a shrewd politician who also happens to have ideas and ideals that may help our country in its time of crisis. Comparing Senator Paine to John McCain also seems too facile, but it is irresistable. Paine is a respected member of the old guard Senate who is being touted for the national ticket. Yet under his smooth veneer there is a man manipulated by forces he cannot control. He has lost his way and sold out to bigger interests. John McCain is a self-called maverick who has fought the Bush administration on some issues and condemned the extreme Christian right, but one would never know it now. In the fantasy of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, justice, tolerance, and freedom win out. How these values play out in 2008 will depend on whether voters want to believe in Smith's ideals or continue our current decline.
Parallets between Jimmy Stewart's "golly-gee" idealist Jeff Smith and Barack Obama, an attractive, smiling, intellectual but practical idealist are easy to sniff out, but Obama is no Jeff Smith. He's a shrewd politician who also happens to have ideas and ideals that may help our country in its time of crisis. Comparing Senator Paine to John McCain also seems too facile, but it is irresistable. Paine is a respected member of the old guard Senate who is being touted for the national ticket. Yet under his smooth veneer there is a man manipulated by forces he cannot control. He has lost his way and sold out to bigger interests. John McCain is a self-called maverick who has fought the Bush administration on some issues and condemned the extreme Christian right, but one would never know it now. In the fantasy of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, justice, tolerance, and freedom win out. How these values play out in 2008 will depend on whether voters want to believe in Smith's ideals or continue our current decline.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Governors and Community Organizers
Perhaps the lowest ebb at the GOP convention this year was Rudy Guiliani's condescending remarks comparing Sarah Palin's experience with that of Barack Obama. The former New York governor could not have been or elected nor could he have maintained control without community organizers, but perhaps his ego has forgotten that. Guiliani snidely remarked that Palin was a governor of a state while Obama was merely a "community organizer." He paused and waited for the audience to chime in with laughter and applause. He continued to ramrod his absurd comparison until he made certain that it would become a campaign touchstone. But most thinking people are not going to fall for such tactics. One has only to consider the source: a Democrat in GOP clothing who somehow deluded himself into thinking the conservative base would nominate and elect a pro-choice, anti-gun, gay favoring liberal. Of the three stooges at the convention, Guiliani outranks even Fred Thompson and Joe Lieberman.
Barack Obama's community organizing is typical of millions of Americans who care about their fellow citizens whether they are growing victory gardens that bring different social classes together, registering people to vote, teaching reading to illiterates or immigrants, or working for a closer community. After all, think of some of the great community organizers of the past--Martin Luther King, Gandhi, and Jesus Christ. They didn't just govern. They made a difference.
Barack Obama's community organizing is typical of millions of Americans who care about their fellow citizens whether they are growing victory gardens that bring different social classes together, registering people to vote, teaching reading to illiterates or immigrants, or working for a closer community. After all, think of some of the great community organizers of the past--Martin Luther King, Gandhi, and Jesus Christ. They didn't just govern. They made a difference.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days
4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days is the Cannes Film Festival winner from director Cristin Mungiu. It recreates the bleak period of suspicion and black markets in Romania just before the fall of its dictator Ceaucescu. With this background, the director chooses cinema verite to tell his story. There are no fancy cuts or even cross-cuts between the principal actors. The lighting is restrained at times or overlit at others. Most of the shots are medium shots of two people talking. Sounds grim, huh? That's just what the director wanted. This is the uncomplicated story of two roommates at college who seek out an abortionist. The more naive of the two has allowed her pregnancy to go on much too long (see title), and they are forced to use an unscrupulous pig of a man for the operation. Since this is against the law, the film builds suspense with the questions of whether or not they will be discovered and whether or not the operation will succeed. The director cleverly pits these two women against a number of men besides the abortionist. There is the roommate's boy friend who treats her roughly and calls it caring. There are the hotel employees who snicker at the women. The abortion itself is shown in detail, and the graphic shot of the fetus on the bathroom floor will linger in the viewer's memory. 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days is not for the squeamish, but it is a strong statement about dictatorships, both national and personal.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Dark and Light
Opening on the same day, Mama Mia! and The Dark Knight present two extreme attitudes about life and love in the modern world. Both are entertaining and both are drastically removed from reality. Christopher Nolan's uber-violent, humorless adventure grabs the viewer by the throat and doesn't let go for a full two hours and thirty minutes. Fueled by a ghoulish and artful performance by the late Heath Ledger as the Joker, the second of Nolan's Batman films is set in a modern Gotham that is obviously Chicago. Gleaming with modern pride, the city is rotting from within. Despite the efforts of the caped crusader and honest law officers, the city has fallen into the hands of the Joker. Some reviewers have called this epic the best of all the Batman movies, but they forget several qualities necessary for such praise, humor and the creation of an imaginary world that will enthrall viewers. The Dark Knight has little of either. Think back to Tim Burton's trippy Batman, in which Gotham City was freakish amusement park with Jack Nicholson's Joker conducting the mayhem. The incredible art deco sets matched with the decaying monuments of buildings provided a perfect setting for darkness and fun. The grand finale, with its allusions to Hunchback of Notre Dame and Phantom of the Opera, takes place in a crumbling Gothic cathedral that resembles Gaudi's Barcelona cathedral in its last stages. Burton and composer Danny Elfman create a world of dark beauty and funky fun while the composers for The Dark Knight provide too much bombast, sometimes so loud we can't hear the dialogue. Credit Nolan with great action sequences and a great cast, but his take on Batman lacks humor, music, and hope.
On the other extreme there is the new film version of Mama Mia! which offers a large cast of talented actors the chance to run amok on a dazzlingly beautiful Greek island. Almost anyone who breathes knows the music of the Swedish pop group ABBA, whether they want to or not. The infectious, sometimes infecting beat lifts the banal lyrics to almost operatic heights. Consider Meryl Streep as she belts out "The Winner Takes It All," to a non-plussed and almost non-singing Pierce Brosnan. The film version of the amazingly popular musical which is still running on Broadway and all over the world seems less clunky than the play. New dialogue and character dialogue give the slight story a humorous boost, and the cast has a ball with all the silliness. Streep, who may be a bit mature for a former free spirit and leader of a girls' Bangles-like group, gives her role the energy, joy, and even the sadness it needs while Christine Baranski almost steals the film as a randy divorcee. When the group belts out "Dancing Queen" in their full glitter and boots regalia, only a thug from The Dark Knight could resist. The film also puts a new spin on the ancient Greek chorus, employing all the locals to comment on and participate in Streep's romantic dilemmas. Like Streep, they race around the island, dive into the sea, and dance the film away. You should too.
On the other extreme there is the new film version of Mama Mia! which offers a large cast of talented actors the chance to run amok on a dazzlingly beautiful Greek island. Almost anyone who breathes knows the music of the Swedish pop group ABBA, whether they want to or not. The infectious, sometimes infecting beat lifts the banal lyrics to almost operatic heights. Consider Meryl Streep as she belts out "The Winner Takes It All," to a non-plussed and almost non-singing Pierce Brosnan. The film version of the amazingly popular musical which is still running on Broadway and all over the world seems less clunky than the play. New dialogue and character dialogue give the slight story a humorous boost, and the cast has a ball with all the silliness. Streep, who may be a bit mature for a former free spirit and leader of a girls' Bangles-like group, gives her role the energy, joy, and even the sadness it needs while Christine Baranski almost steals the film as a randy divorcee. When the group belts out "Dancing Queen" in their full glitter and boots regalia, only a thug from The Dark Knight could resist. The film also puts a new spin on the ancient Greek chorus, employing all the locals to comment on and participate in Streep's romantic dilemmas. Like Streep, they race around the island, dive into the sea, and dance the film away. You should too.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
At the end of Casablanca, Rick assures Ilsa, "We'll always have Paris." What is it about the City of Lights that causes so many Americans to call it their favorite city? I first saw Paris the summer of my college graduation in 1961. I was alone , but the charm of the Left Bank, the museums, Notre Dame, and all the rest swept my gloom away. I was determined to return.
Finally in 1985, I came back with my wife, another Francophile, and our three daughters. We rented an apartment and spent a month living the Parisian life, or at least our version. Each day, we would walk down to the market and get French bread for breakfast. After that, we would stuff our bag with sandwiches and head out for our highlight of the day. Whether it was a glass factory, the Goblein tapestry museum, an intimate museum such as the Musee Moureau, or an afternoon at the Tulieries Gardens, we never got tired because we had the time to relax. At lunch we would eat our picnic lunch and in the afternoon we would head back to our apartment via the same street--the one with the ice cream shop with every imaginable flavor. The proprietors came to know our favorites, especially that of our youngest daughter Kristin, chocolat. So for a magical month of July we bought a good bottle of vin rouge for 10 francs or a dollar, delicious cheeses and pastries, and daily ice cream. Instead of one trip to the Louvre, there were many. And, for the most part, nobody got tired.
Finally in 1985, I came back with my wife, another Francophile, and our three daughters. We rented an apartment and spent a month living the Parisian life, or at least our version. Each day, we would walk down to the market and get French bread for breakfast. After that, we would stuff our bag with sandwiches and head out for our highlight of the day. Whether it was a glass factory, the Goblein tapestry museum, an intimate museum such as the Musee Moureau, or an afternoon at the Tulieries Gardens, we never got tired because we had the time to relax. At lunch we would eat our picnic lunch and in the afternoon we would head back to our apartment via the same street--the one with the ice cream shop with every imaginable flavor. The proprietors came to know our favorites, especially that of our youngest daughter Kristin, chocolat. So for a magical month of July we bought a good bottle of vin rouge for 10 francs or a dollar, delicious cheeses and pastries, and daily ice cream. Instead of one trip to the Louvre, there were many. And, for the most part, nobody got tired.
Only two years later, I returned to Paris on a NEA grant for the Humanities to study Gothic art and architecture for 6 weeks. Our program was sponsored by Cornell. Each week we had lectures on the history, style, and importance of the Gothic movement, and then we hit the streets finding many superior examples close to my apartment on St. Germain, including the old St. Germain church itself, Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle, and many more. Every Wednesday we would head out to Chartres Cathedral, where Malcom Miller, the noted Chartres expert would concentrate on several aspects that most tourists never see. The most thrilling were walking among the rafters beneath the nave roof, where one mistake could send you topling down towards lower ceiling, and walking outside along the nave towards the towers as well as climbing up inside the towers. In my down time I ran in the Tulieries or sunned and read in the Luxembourg Gardens. All were in walking distance from my 6th floor apartment. I have never been in as good shape as I was that summer, especially since there was no elevator to get to my room. I did make some interesting friends in the study group and we often went out to eat or see a concert, but I was relieved when Betsy came for a week and when my parents and my sister came as well later. That six weeks in Paris was the most intense and delightful time since the earlier 4 weeks in 1985.
In 1989 my wife, youngest daughter, and I joined a group of Darlington students and parents for a tour of Paris and the Loire Valley, among other sites. It was not our most endearing trip. At the very end, some of the students got smashed and the teacher/escorts were held responsible, even though some of the offenders' parents were there. Needless to say, bad feelings ensued. It would take several years before we took a student tour again.
Now it is 2008, much too long a time span to be away from Paris. On this trip, my wife and I joined our oldest daughter Cat, her husband Chris, and our two grandsons Jay, 8, and Graham, 6, for 3 days in Paris and 7 in and around the Pyrenees. More on this trip next time.
In 1989 my wife, youngest daughter, and I joined a group of Darlington students and parents for a tour of Paris and the Loire Valley, among other sites. It was not our most endearing trip. At the very end, some of the students got smashed and the teacher/escorts were held responsible, even though some of the offenders' parents were there. Needless to say, bad feelings ensued. It would take several years before we took a student tour again.
Now it is 2008, much too long a time span to be away from Paris. On this trip, my wife and I joined our oldest daughter Cat, her husband Chris, and our two grandsons Jay, 8, and Graham, 6, for 3 days in Paris and 7 in and around the Pyrenees. More on this trip next time.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Two recent DVD releases deserve the attention of any serious movie buff. They are both films that deal with darkness of the soul, but one is depressing while the other is highly entertaining. Let's start with THE ORPHANAGE, a follow-up to the brilliant PAN'S LABYRINTH from last year. This time the Spanish director is the producer, but his style and interests are evident everywhere from the riveting tracking shots through the old mansion where the action takes place to the lead actress's painfully empathetic performance as a mother seeking a lost child. Did I say this was entertaining? You bet! The film owes much of its impact to Hitchcock mysteries but particularly to films like THE INNOCENTS(with a beautifully etched performance by Deborah Kerr), an early 1960's version of Henry James' THE TURN OF THE SCREW. Both films explore the neuroses, desires, and maternal instincts of women on the edge.
The second film is IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH, another of the numerous Iraq-based films that has failed to find an audience in the U.S. The disconnect between what is happening in that god-forsaken country and how we live here is laid bare in this strong drama about a father attempting to discover the truth about his son's death on a military base. Tommy Lee Jones delivers one of his most searing and understated performances. He is ably supported by Susan Sarandon as his wife and a number of young actors, some of whom are Iraq veterans, as members of his son's squad. IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH questions not only why we are in Iraq but what this war has done to our young men and women physically, morally, and psychologically. When will we wake up as a nation? That's what this film wants to know!
The second film is IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH, another of the numerous Iraq-based films that has failed to find an audience in the U.S. The disconnect between what is happening in that god-forsaken country and how we live here is laid bare in this strong drama about a father attempting to discover the truth about his son's death on a military base. Tommy Lee Jones delivers one of his most searing and understated performances. He is ably supported by Susan Sarandon as his wife and a number of young actors, some of whom are Iraq veterans, as members of his son's squad. IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH questions not only why we are in Iraq but what this war has done to our young men and women physically, morally, and psychologically. When will we wake up as a nation? That's what this film wants to know!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy summer!
The onslaught of summer movie blockbusters is meant to stun us, knock us to the ground, and grind our critical responses to pulp. And sometimes that happens. Consider the latest three powerhouse features, eliminating the flashy and empty SPEED RACER. First out of the block was the refreshingly bracing IRON MAN, another comic book pumped up for the screen. Though it has its young male requirements of explosions, gadgetry, and speed, this tale also features a new type of hero--a spoiled, brilliant billionaire inventor who finds his soul when he is captured by terrorists in a country whose name ends in "stan." Realizing that he is responsible for much of the world's destruction, our hero creates an incredible iron suit with every gadget possible, and some of the most entertaining scenes show his awkward attempts to make his new suit take off. Robert Downey, Jr., an actor of great ability and tons of personal baggage, is the perfect choice for our inventor. His cynicsm and lack of commitment are a perfect balance for all the heroics he must perform as Iron Man. Gwynneth Paltrow as his trusty and loving assistant and Jeff Bridges as his smarmy and untrustworthy second in command play their parts with no tongue in cheek, making them even more fun.
PRINCE CASPIAN, the second of the Narnia films, is far more serious and action-packed than the first installment. The Pivensey children are still charming in their clipped, no-nonsense English way, but the choice for Prince Caspian is a toss-up. He is fine for the teen girls, but in the novel he is 13. Here he is at least 20, so he seems out of sync with the kids on screen, especially when he attempts his serious lines with any emotion. One moment reminds us why the first episode was more fun: the return of the Ice Queen, played again by Oscar winner Tilda Swinton. Sheathed in icy white make-up and encased in a sculptured ice tomb, Swinton provides the movie with its most delicious moment. We almost hope the Prince will take her offer. Instead we have to sit through endless battles (at least they are bloodless) before order is restored to Narnia.
INDIANA JONES AND THE SEARCH FOR THE CRYSTAL SKULL comes 19 years after the third installment of the popular series. Some critics have carped over its lack of inventiveness, but I found it thoroughly entertaining. Why? Because Spielberg has brought two wonderful women to the show, and they practically steal it. Karen Allen, whose spunky, hard-drinking
Marion in the original RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, again provides a romantic foil for Jones, while taking much of the heroics. As the villainous Communist leader, Kate Blanchett, sporting a severe black page boy wig, opts for the kind of villain seen in 1930's serials like FLASH GORDON, all steel and party line. The action includes a fencing match between Blanchett and Jones' sidekick Shia LeBouef astride two speeding jeeps in the jungle and a motorcycle chase through the Yale campus. The ending may be a bit hokey, but with our interest in THE X-FILES (spoiler alert) it works, as does most of the film.
PRINCE CASPIAN, the second of the Narnia films, is far more serious and action-packed than the first installment. The Pivensey children are still charming in their clipped, no-nonsense English way, but the choice for Prince Caspian is a toss-up. He is fine for the teen girls, but in the novel he is 13. Here he is at least 20, so he seems out of sync with the kids on screen, especially when he attempts his serious lines with any emotion. One moment reminds us why the first episode was more fun: the return of the Ice Queen, played again by Oscar winner Tilda Swinton. Sheathed in icy white make-up and encased in a sculptured ice tomb, Swinton provides the movie with its most delicious moment. We almost hope the Prince will take her offer. Instead we have to sit through endless battles (at least they are bloodless) before order is restored to Narnia.
INDIANA JONES AND THE SEARCH FOR THE CRYSTAL SKULL comes 19 years after the third installment of the popular series. Some critics have carped over its lack of inventiveness, but I found it thoroughly entertaining. Why? Because Spielberg has brought two wonderful women to the show, and they practically steal it. Karen Allen, whose spunky, hard-drinking
Marion in the original RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, again provides a romantic foil for Jones, while taking much of the heroics. As the villainous Communist leader, Kate Blanchett, sporting a severe black page boy wig, opts for the kind of villain seen in 1930's serials like FLASH GORDON, all steel and party line. The action includes a fencing match between Blanchett and Jones' sidekick Shia LeBouef astride two speeding jeeps in the jungle and a motorcycle chase through the Yale campus. The ending may be a bit hokey, but with our interest in THE X-FILES (spoiler alert) it works, as does most of the film.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Tell it like it is and LOSE.
The latest flak in the Clinton-Obama race to defeat comes with Obama's unjudged remarks about Pennsylvania voters (and in extension, all working class voters). He suggested this weekend that these blue collar voters are "bitter" because jobs are gone, factories closed, and times are hard. In that bitterness they have retreated to religion, guns, and anti-immigration. Of course, he forgot to mention gay marriage, among other working class fears. Now, have I dropped enough verbal land mines for you? When you use terms like "elite," "working class," and "blue collar," you don't stand a chance. Some will damn you for "elitism." Some will charge you with insensitivity to those who should be equal. Here's the corker, gang. Barack Obama has said what happens to be true in many cases. No one can speak for everyone in a group, but what Obama says has so much truth that it hurts. And it hurts his political chances. We know that some people entrench themselves in religion, the past, their right to wave guns, and their fear of anything different. Obama has suggested that with his comments. But his political correctness could be his undoing in the long run.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
I Promise not to drink when I bring my gun to Denny's
As much as I love the state of Georgia, sometimes it becomes almost impossible. Our state legislature closed its latest comedy club or session with a new law that enables one to pack heat in a public restaurant or stadium. Now let's see, I'm a rabid Braves fan and I think the ump has gone to far for the last time. Or I am really scorched by this loudmouth in the booth behind me who keeps extolling Bush's leadership abilities. Instead of shamefully sneaking away, I can just pull my automatic and put an end to the problem. Justifiable homicide? You tell me. There is one caveat with this liberating law, and that is that you must promise NOT TO DRINK in a public place while packing heat. So I'm going to the Road House in the north Georgia hills, and I ain't packin' heat?! C'mon, dude.
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