Lemon Disco

If I Had A Million Dollars...With a Catch

2009-07-17T19:26:00.000-07:00

"The Standard of Living" by Dorothy Parker

The ladies of Mad Men strike me as chums of Parker's protagonists.

Sure, polarizing figures evoke disdain. Whether third-world dictators, Hollywood socialites, or Dallas Cowboy wide receivers, when they stir the pot, America listens. The "Behind the True Hollywood Story" what-have-you covers their lives following their time in the limelight.

But what happens to the blips? The blahs. The nothings. The never-stood-a-chances. We all run across people who seem nice on the surface, very pleasant, kind, but slightly boring. Well, if telling the whole truth, they’re really boring. Other than pleasantries and generic common interests, no depth exists. I mean, how many times can you talk about the weather, inoffensive politics, mundane sports, etc.? Who really gives a fuck about what’s the proper stud needed in a standard household wall? These innocuous conversations don’t harm anyone on the surface, but really bore me to hell.

But we engage in them; pleasantries – despite root canal similarities – persist. No one gets harmed, and we go about our days. Then we, eventually (and sometimes thankfully), fall out of touch. Maybe a casual run-in at a convenient store or shopping mall transpires, but no scheduled meeting occurs. All parties benefit from the conversational exile – both the boring and the bored. But what lies in store for our forgotten almost-friends?

In my mind, that’s what the short story "The Standard of Living" by Dorothy Parker addresses. Simply, the narrative finds out what happens to the forgotten near-chums. It follows two bland if not slightly attractive (or slutty) friends who work as stenographers in post-World War II Manhattan. I picture the assistants that come on to the advertising executives in Mad Men, but with no emotional depth (meaning, these women don’t hold higher aspirations than serving as floozies).

Lacking an action-packed narrative arc, "The Standard of Living" deals with gluttonous, near-Gatsby gals and a Saturday-afternoon pallor game they play. The question: What would you buy if you had a million dollars? These ladies aren’t buying lots of macaroni and cheese, either (sorry Bare Naked Ladies). No, these dames – a term used in its most accurate way possible – possess a taste for the finer things: mink stoles, elegant pearl necklaces, perfume from Chesarie cats, you get the idea.

And the best part is the catch: you can’t do anything nice for others. As soon as you try to donate the money to an AIDS clinic or rescue adopted kittens or make sure the nuns in the Blues Brothers can run a school, it all disappears. The game’s purpose: act as entirely selfish as you possibly can.

Parker doesn’t fuck around with depth to these characters because there isn’t any. They want the best of the best and are chastised for acting altruistic in any way. The stories real purpose is about facing your fantasies and the world being harder (and more expensive) than you’d imagine, but I don’t care about that. Maybe I’m a lot like the Parker’s plump protagonists. I want what I can’t own, and I want to fantasize about it.

I mean, a million dollars is lot of money. It’s not what it used to be – a fact Parker alludes too – but if Regis Philbin digs it, I can too. I’d love a beach house, but that’s too ordinary – common as the ladies would say. Besides, an average beach house, even in today’s shitty economy, costs a few million. Once again, like the ladies in the story I won’t allow reality to sway my spending. Guitars cost some big bucks, but not to an excessive point. Easily, I can buy four brand new or vintage guitars (I’ll spare the axe-swooning details), and still comfortably count $950,000 in my pocket – a pretty liberal estimate. Sounds good for purchase number one.

How about a buffalo chicken factory? I love buffalo chicken, why not own a place that can serve me buffalo chicken all day, every day. Sounds good to me. I wouldn’t really want to get involved in all the murdering details, but as long as there’s some freshly-slaughtered yet delicious buffalo chicken, I’ll survive. That leaves me with like $100,000, give or take (Let’s all assume buffalo chicken factories cost $800,000).

Slowly these evolved into a genii’s three wishes, but so be it. I got a hundred grand to work with, and I’m going to make it count. I mean, season tickets to the Phillies or Eagles would be sweet. So would a private miniature golf club in my backyard. But, I really love my family. So I think a group trip to Ireland would make us all happy. There we could…

Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. They’d all be there supporting me. Any fun they partake in is purely supplemental. It’s still totally selfish. Oh come on. How could I go there by myself? You mean I LOSE IT ALL!

Maybe, I should have stuck to mink stoles like the Manhattan ladies.

James Dean Ain't Got Shit on Me

2009-07-06T14:25:00.000-07:00

#92 A Place in the Sun, directed by George Stevens

Fonzi eventually became a corporate hack, right?

A leather jacket, greased backed hair and disregard for the English language. In 2009 these dudes are relics, but forty to fifty years ago they were it -- the shit. Riding a motorcycle with no place to go made you the coolest mother fucker in the world. The less direction and ambition you possessed the better. And why was that so cool?

It’s part of Americana to be aimless (The song “'Aaay'mless” was even sung by American rebel Fonzi in Happy Days the Musical). Maybe that’s because, as a nation, we’re a little aimless ourselves. We’re the rebels, the whippersnappers breaking away from old man Europe. Eventually, though, we became the man. Just like we know Fonzi eventually married Pinky Toscadero and stopped bagging preteens. Fonzi got a suit and tie and invaded Iraq like the rest of us.

Even in the literary world there are the cool cats. Writers like Ernest Hemmingway and Jack Kerouac seemed just as likely to smash your face in as to pen a sonnet. But these drifters all are part of our larger cultural history.

Rebels can be mainstream, too. That doesn’t make them less rebelish, though. Shaquille O’Neal is still a super bad-ass basketball player despite aging. In addition to his presence in the paint, Shaq is a pop culture icon. And he tweets. And his tweets are interesting and honest and give a glimpse into the world of a man that wears size 23 shoes. Twitter certainly is a fad that some (me!!!) have latched on to. To think that I could easily be in communication with Shaq anytime I want boggles me. It probably took Shaq eight seconds to set up an account, but with that action, he made him accessible to the world. I mean, can you picture Michael Jordan doing that? Plus, he doesn’t fake it like Britney Spears does. Shaq latched onto a mainstream idea and -- as a celebrity -- that makes him a rebel.

And I guess that’s the paradox of a rebel. The only people who really want to be outcasts are the most Plain Jane people among us. Fonzi pined for acceptance. Sure, his bravado was too much sometimes and he hated to admit he was wrong, but he never really wanted to escape. From his garage-attic apartment he yearned for the love and familiarity the Cunningham’s often took for granted.

And that’s what the film A Place in the Sun examines. There are no rebels without a cause. I’d argue that only true aimless people are drug attics. Rebels always possess some motivation, however veiled in may be. Even if it’s crazy, there’s still a driving force. The Joker loved chaos, Dean Moriarty loved to wander, and George Eastman from A Place in the Sun desired acceptance.

As a movie, A Place in the Sun was mediocre at best. The plot contained lots of holes and dragged at times. Lead actor Montgomery Clift – much like that Clash song about him – failed at evoking empathy from the audience. The idea behind his character and the questions his actions posed were enough to sustain me.

Playing a country boy, Clift wants to work in his wealthy, famous uncle’s factory. He doesn’t want a handout or to be included, he just wants a job and to orbit the celestial body that is his family. He’s dark, mysterious and kinda good looking. But that’s really all you know about him. Throughout the entire film, there’s really not too much revealed.

And then he goes out and murders someone. And all this shit hits the fan and all of a sudden, now he’s a big rebel. But I think he’s less, though. Murder is common, and it’s the easy way out – especially if it’s a crime that makes sense. OJ Simpson isn’t a rebel (especially since he got off), he’s just a little nuts. However unjustified he might have been, it totally made sense. Simpson found his ex-wife shacking up with some dude. What makes more sense that to kill him/her? Not right, just kinda logical. Like the Unabomber and Tim McVeigh are mass murdering, political message driven murders – they’re rebels. A crime of passion involves just dudes that overreacted at the wrong time when dangerous elements were around.

In the film, George lives a double life and finds himself in a love triangle. While a poor boy, he knocked up his nice, innocent girlfriend (Shelly Winters). Now he’s found moderate success and a fancy, rich lover (Elizabeth Taylor). What are you gonna do with the preggers broad? The obvious answer may not have been taking her out to the woods for a “romantic” getaway, renting a boat, and capsizing it, causing her to drown, but it worked. Until he got caught and stuff.

Which is even more interesting. If he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot rebel, he totally could have gotten away with it. His problem was that he drew attention to himself (with a laughable fake name) and interrupted a scout camp out by looking like -- or being – a crazy murderer roaming the woods in the middle of the night.

But that’s not what the original author – Theodore Dreiser in the novel An American Tragedy -- wanted to convey. He wanted a book about right verses wrong; if the murderer gets away at the end it looks like wrong wins – which makes for a bad Hollywood film, especially in 1951. I’m not sure if the novel made it so wishy-washy, but the film even makes the murder ambivalent. Eastman never denies that he refrained from helping his Baby Momma, but claims he didn’t kill her. This raises the question of whether inaction worse is than action. I mean, he gets the electric chair in the end, so I suppose the author/director/screenwriters decided inaction’s pretty bad (like in Seinfeld). What’s more interesting is the trigger happy capital punishment system in 1950’s America. It’s tough to put someone away without an eyewitness and all.

This movies really not worth watching, but its title provides ample fodder for discussion. What would you do to secure a place in the sun? The proposition of murder makes people cringe at first, but a guarantee that you’ll never receive an earthly punishment sweetens the deal. Rebel or no rebel, it’s definitely worth considering.
---
(#92) My Fair Lady directed by George Cukor

Thomas, Mary and Joseph!

2009-06-12T10:11:00.000-07:00

(#89) Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Uncle Tom and Hannibal Lector are just misunderstood is all.

Some novels became so iconic and historic that the prose and some of the work's greatest ideas become lost. For example. sometimes people forget that Hannibal Lector isn't the villain in Silence of the Lambs or that Jaws is more of an internal struggle for Chief Brody than an action-packed, shark-hunting adventure. With Uncle Tom's Cabin, I feel the mischaracterization of what an "Uncle Tom" is undermines the influence or general feel of the novel. Because of this negative sentiment, I think Harriet Beecher Stowe's masterpiece have been bastardized by people who may never have even read the book.

Uncle Tom's Cabin may be the best book I ever read. It didn't leave me wanting tune in next week like Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy did or rethink my existence like some other varieties; Stowe left me with a different, hard-to-describe, but more profound feeling. Her novel is sad in a "oh fuck slavery's evil" sort of way, but sweet and rewarding, too. Numerous characters possess great depth -- slave and slave owners alike. As for a storyline, Tom's tortured tale of being sold down river makes you laugh, pulls at your heart, and forces you want to want to hug him, a lot. And that's where this whole damn Uncle Tom thing came from.

Bottom line: Uncle Tom is a nice guy. He exhibits Christ-like patience, while enduring Christ-like suffering. A devout Methodist, Tom always, ALWAYS turns the other cheek. He's nice to everyone: slave, slave owner, slave auctioneer, slave trader, whatever. No matter how cruel or much pain they inflict on him, Tom remains dutiful and kind. His faith in God is astounding, even at the lowest points in his life. Ultimately, Tom just wants to be returned to his wife and children. Although many sold slaves pine for their lost families, Tom's desire goes beyond this world. It doesn't matter if he dies before seeing them again. For him, if death under righteous means occurs, then that's part of God's plan. He's a humble servant to all; the catch, and what earned his name a negative, demeaning connotation, is that he appears resigned to his system and his role.

Because of his religious background, Tom's does as he is told. When his original master (who Tom held in his arms as an infant) sells him to pay off debts, he goes off without complaint. Internally it crushes him, but he rationalizes that his master wouldn't do it unless it was absolutely necessary. Tom just goes with the flow. Looking at the situation literally, you sometimes get angry at Tom for his loyalty. But in his head, he is doing out of love. You can fault him for it, but Tom's loves everyone (even him).

Even when the insanely evil master Simon Legree beats him within an inch of his life, Tom still forgives him and obeys. And people hate that. How can you accept constant torture and still line up, lock in step?

Without reading the novel and understanding Stowe's tone throughout, people misunderstand what Tom is all about. She wants people to think Tom is behaving out of the norm. Intentionally, she names several characters in all different walks of life, Tom. Even though he lives on society's lowest rung, he is still the most virtuous Tom. She does that with other lesser-appreciated groups, as well. The simple kindness within the hear of the little girl Eva and bravery displayed by the fringe, despised Quakers are Christianity in practice. Of all the Christian values people in the 19th century claimed to embody, Tom the so-called "savage", the young ignorant female child, and the backwards, soft Quakers actually lived Christ's message.

After fully digesting the character, it seems foolish to chastise Tom for being too nice.

Politically, no one doubts the impact of Uncle Tom's Cabin. Possibly the most influential American novel ever, Stowe does not sugarcoat her feelings on slavery. What separates the novel from being preachy is her "show not tell" style. For the most part, she paints such vivid pictures of suffering that the reader would be truly unfeeling to remain stoic. Constantly, she compares a slaves injustice with that of a normal citizen in a "how would you feel if ALL 10 of your children were taken from you" sort of way. Stowe employs so many different examples that the novel is hard to read at times because of its graphic nature.

Best of all, Stowe carefully casts the blame on all, not just the South. Having lived in Ohio, Maine, and Florida, Stowe saw both the South's direct shame coupled with the North's head-in-the-sand mentality. In that way, the novel is comparable to the previously-reviewed Gone With the Wind. However, she approaches that differently than author Margaret Mitchell does. The North's parallel guilt doesn't absolve the South of its wrongs. Mitchell almost portrays slavery as a Northern misunderstanding of Southern ways. Stowe flat out says everyone -- North and South alike -- is wrong.

The one point continually hit upon by Stowe is her feeling of hypocrisy toward the Southern thang. She admits that a majority of slave owners are really nice and treat there slaves well. Proportionally, Uncle Tom's Cabin reflects that generalization. However, what happens when the nice slave owner dies? Often, dept, death, or illness splintered plantations and shattered families. Stowe's comments questioned the ideal of slavery as property and shamed all her read her novel into admitting its evils.
--
(#88) The Last of the Mohicans by James Fennimore Cooper

Let's Be Frank: A Guest Blogger is at Work

2009-05-20T09:38:00.000-07:00

#92 Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

The only monster here is a neglected and scornful child.

There are those who would have the American reading public believe that Frankenstein is a ghost story, a tale about a fearsome beast and the man who must attempt to defeat him out of a sense of guilt and duty. While the book does prominently feature an undead monster assembled from assorted body parts in various stages of decay, the story is no more about ghouls than Animal Farm is about cuddly animals come to life.

Frankenstein is a story about ambition, failure, self-delusion, self-esteem and internal hate projected outward. It is a family drama between a father and son, dressed up in an ill-fitting suit and decked out with neck bolts.

Of course, to compare the monster from Mary Shelley's masterwork to a Halloween mascot is more of a perversion than anything occurring in the book. The Frankenstein monster of Shelley's world is a far cry from the slow dolt portrayed in movies and pop culture. He is a specimen to behold, cunning and brilliant in the kind of dark way that only comes from a life of neglect and ugliness. He is fast and strong, so much so that no captor can hold him, no pursuer can run him down. This is a creature without peer, without equal, whose inner hurt and isolation have driven him to bitter, brilliant madness.

His excellence is a testament to Victor, the story’s protagonist and abusive Mr. Muntz to the monster’s lonely neglected Nelson. Victor, a young man possessing intelligence beyond his years, becomes obsessed with the dark arts and strives to solve the mystery of life and death through a blend of modern science and witchcraft. The author goes to great length to outline her character’s obsession only to side-step his crowning achievement, never revealing to the reader how Victor was able to reach his goal of reanimating life. The “how” or “why” isn’t nearly as exciting as the “what” that follows.

The relationship between Victor and the monster is one for the ages, so complex and nuanced that scholars have spent years of their lives analyzing their connection to each other. To summarize: the two are chained. Victor sees in the monster his dark ambition personified and distorted, his once-noble goal stripped of its romance and bathed in the brutal light of reality. He sees in his monster the ugly result of man trying to play god. He is disgusted in his creation and in himself for wanting it so badly. He wishes to kill it and, by extension, himself.

The monster, on the other hand, is created tabula rasa with no ambitions, aspirations or agendas outside of being loved by his creator, being accepted by the one who breathed life into his flesh. The monster’s initial quest is a religious one, as a pilgrim looking for the embrace of god. Upon realizing Victor’s initial reaction, which is one of loathing repulsion, the creature is without a center, lost to a strange world that makes no effort to accept him. He sees in his father the cruelty of humanity and strives to end him and, by extension, cure his own self-hatred.

And so, the father repulsed by the son, the son scorned by the father, the two characters set out to destroy each other.

The real horror of the story is not so much in the acts of brutality that man and beast unleash upon each other but in the all-encompassing stubbornness of Shelley's two main characters. If only the father would accept the son, if only the son could forgive the father’s cruelty, both characters could find peace. Instead, the story unfolds with Victor pursuing his child across the frozen caps of the North Pole, the two forever locked in a battle of who can tear the other to shreds, physically and mentally.

Some characters are killed. Others are confined to a life of emotional imprisonment and isolation. As it was written in another classic about ugliness and personal pettiness’ victory over love and understanding, “All are punished.” This certainly applies in Frankenstein, a tale about the unyielding decay that can lie in the deep ends of faith.

---Nate Adams is the owner and operator of Left of the Dial. Formerly he was the head designer and fashion editor for The People's XPress News.

Drunk and Windy with Ernie

2009-05-14T14:11:00.000-07:00

"The Three-Day Blow" by Ernest Hemmingway

Don't listen to Blue Oyster Cult, the reaper is the only thing to fear.

In literature, the medium of a short story is hard to compare to other arts. Would a television mini-series, a brief radio documentary (like an account on This American Life), or a blog post be comparable? I feel like that’s not the case.

With Ernest Hemingway’s barely eight-page story “The Three-Day Blow,” a full narrative springs from a seemingly innocuous drunken evening between two acquaintances. The episode consists of the pair mundanely imbibing and talking. No action climax occurs; however, one character internally wrestles with a recent break-up.

The title refers to an autumn wind striping previously lively trees of their leaves. Protagonist Nick discusses the relevance to his break-up:

“'All of a sudden everything was over,’ Nick said. ‘I don’t know why it was. I couldn’t help it. Just like when the three-day blows come now and rip all the leaves off the trees.’”

Hemmingway’s point is that life – or elements of life -- can suddenly cease to exist. Nick internally whines about his seemingly hopeless situation. But Hemmingway won’t let it be that bleak. His simple approach toward the two intoxicated men allows for the other character, Bill, to provide Nick an epiphany, unbeknownst to his crack-brained mind.

Bill warns Nick that if he isn’t careful, his relationship could be rekindled. The warning is slightly a joke because these burly men in the vein of Hemmingway’s code hero aren’t outwardly discussing feelings. Bill simply means that Nick could get trapped by monogamy; this is exactly what Nick wants to hear.

“Nick had not thought about [them getting back together]. It seemed so absolute. That was a thought. That made him feel better.”

Using deception, Hemmingway makes the reader think the short story will end tragically. Nick and Bill grab rifles and run out into the wilderness at the pinnacle of their stupor. Nothing happens – or it’s not written anyway – but the author’s point does not relate specifically to the pair’s story. Instead, unlike other Hemmingway works I’ve read, it seems positive. Other than death, nothing in life is final. Even if Nick screwed up his relationship, it is never technically beyond repair until someone dies.

Although morbid, the theme is hopeful.
---
Short story: “The Standard of Living” by Dorothy Parker

Jim Tome-y: Eat Your Heart Out

2009-05-11T12:51:00.000-07:00

#90 Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

There's nothing brief about Hugo's massive novel.

I don’t think I properly understood the word “tome” until I read the unabridged version of Les Miserables. Previously adjectives like “humongous” or “gigantic” seemed sufficient in describing books over 800 pages. Now I can recognize the negative connotations that are associated with those terms. “Tome,” on the other hand, provides the correct dignity related to a masterpiece like Les Miserables.

Not surprisingly, Victor Hugo’s 1862 novel was written while the Frenchman vacationed abroad. I thought Tolkien knew imagery: Hugo throws nine kitchen sinks of compound modifiers into every description – clearly, the man had time to kill. Although sometimes a little too detailed, his novel excels because – among many other reasons – it is so comprehensive. After reading Les Miserables I feel as if I could navigate both Paris’ roadways and sewer system, discuss in-depth French history from the revolution through Napoleon to the mid-1800s, and even speak French (sorta).

Ironically, Hugo’s tome was involved in the “shortest correspondence in history” (whatever that means), according to Wikipedia.

"The shortest correspondence in history is between Hugo and his publisher Hurst & Blackett in 1862. It is said Hugo was on vacation when Les Misérables (which is over 1200 pages) was published. He telegraphed the single-character message '?' to his publisher, who replied with a single '!'."

Anyway, the life and crimes and repentances of Jean Valjean and his pals certainly deserves the lengthy time commitment needed to read the 1,200-page book. That does not mean that everything Hugo included was necessary. In high school, I read an abridged version and wondered what I was missing out on. The Kingsway Regional High School addition clocked in at 600 pages, what could the other 600 be about?

The answer to that question: interesting – but ultimately dispensable – background. The novel is divided into six volumes that possessed about 15 books. The books then are further broken down into chapters. Hugo’s flow is sometimes disrupted by the back-and-forth dynamic created by his layout and adherence to rigorous background. Book 5 would be a breathtaking romantic tryst between Marius and Cosette; Book 6 follows with a lengthy 50-page description on the history of a bell tower. The see-saw almost had the feel of a commercial break. The plot developed so seamlessly, you would not dare put the book down. The following exposition would bore you like Sunday afternoon at Aunt Betty’s house.

That complaint is essentially petty in comparison to all the remarkable aspects Hugo’s novel commands. Today, a qualified yet potentially harmful editor might have weeded out the heart and genius while trimming the expository fat.

Hugo’s attention to detail in characters astounds me; I’m certainly envious. Nearly every seemingly insignificant character has a climatic moment in the story – sometimes hundreds of pages or numerous years later. Gardeners, childhood enemies, and irrelevant backgrounders affect the central plot constantly. Every time Hugo reintroduces an esoteric character from page 278 shocks me like defibrillator. If Hugo took the time to give a character a name, then he was going to make sure that he or she was important. Otherwise, the character would be labeled simply as an attendant, innkeeper, or ukulele player (you’ll have to see for yourself if he’s in the book).

And all that is with the minor characters. 600-page essays have been written about each major player in the Les Miserables game. In lieu of that, I will provide an elementary explanation of each character. I am going to attempt to guess what each character symbolizes.

Jean Valjean (The Working Man) – An ex-convict who now lives a life of propriety, he constantly runs from the law. Every step forward he takes and every good deed he does is nearly always countered by a negative event in his life. He dies a beleaguered man frustrated by society yet ultimately pleased with the small but loving family he secures.

Cosette (Goodness) – An orphan girl cared for by Valjean who brings peace to all associated with her. Her love stings Valjean, though, when she succumbs to youthful temptation and falls for Marius. Although devoted to Valjean, she betrays him by neglecting him near his death.

Marius (Youth) – The grandson of a wealthy bourgeois, he rejects his wealthy upbringing upon discovering his father was a hero during the Napoleonic era. He devotes himself entirely to his passions (his deceased father, Cosette) in an almost pathetic manner; he always remains a good person, though.

Javert (Rigidness) – A police inspector who obsessively hunts for Valjean. His lack of a personal life balances with his strict adherence to all authority and regulation. Javert is my favorite character because of his almost entire lack of compassion.

Thenardier (Evil) – A con-man who takes Cosette in as an orphan, he plagues both the girl and Valjean throughout the book. He attempts to extort, murder, and defraud all he encounters.

While my review itself is not nearly as lengthy as Hugo’s work, it should provide at least a basic insight into why Les Miserables is so much more than a successful musical. The proper time needs to be dedicated to savor the 1,200-page masterpiece.
---
Up next, (#89) Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Not Wilder Than Today's Standards, Still Awesome

2009-02-01T08:23:00.000-08:00

(#93) The Apartment -- directed by Billy Wilder

Thankfully for prosperity's sake, Wilder avoided discussing Ike's cue ball.

Ever since I've heard the name "Billy Wilder" I've associated the famed director with the root of his surname: Wild. In my mind, Wilder is associated with the taboo, the extreme, the wild. His comedies shocked audiences in the early 1960s prior to the more liberal comedies that Hollywood would soon churn out at decade's end. While TV was still portraying Dick Van Dyke sleeping in a separate bed from his wife, Wilder latched onto the reality that people have sex for reasons other than procreation. People engage in intercourse for, gasp!, pleasure. Wilder is widely credited with expanding the bounds of acceptable entertainment.

Wilder, along with Woody Allen, has the distinction of having the most films (five) on AFI's Funniest Movies List -- including number one, Some Like it Hot. On the particular list I refer to, Wilder lands four (along with SLIH: Sunset Boulevard, Double Indemnity and, the film of this post, The Apartment), so I'll be spending a decent amount of time on this German-born director. Web sites laud Wilder for his simplistic directing style, often allowing the written word and the actor's nature to carry his films over fancy cinematographic techniques -- like contemporaries Alfred Hitchcock and Orson Welles. In total Wilder owns seven Oscars and was nominated another 15 times. His expertise went beyond comedy, as his court-room dramas (Witness for the Prosecution), film noir ventures (Sunset Boulevard) and war movies (Stalag 17) also received recognition from the academy.

In short, Wilder's got it going on.

The Apartment does not depart from Wilder's style of letting actors act. His job is to coax the most out of his talent and allow the excellent script (of which he co-wrote the screenplay) to do its job. Because of Wilder's subdued approach, Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine soar.

Bud Baxter (Lemmon) stars as an unimportant, young accountant in New York who has one link to the great movers-and-shakers at his company: an apartment. At Bud's well-furnished yet small apartment, (male) executives from work come to take their mistresses and have affairs. That's it. The whole crux of the film is based on the fact that rich, powerful, white men have sex with women who aren't their wives and the complications that this causes on Bud's life.

Initially, the problems were small (Mr. So-and-so took too long; he's locked out in the cold; his neighbors complain about noise). However when the most-powerful man at the company starts using Bud's apartment to have an affair with Fran (MacLaine) the elevator girl, (to whom Bud is in love) the real dilemma start. What is more important to Bud? The new-found (and probably undeserved) success his apartment has given him or staying true to his feelings by resisting his boss and proclaiming his love for Fran. The humorous scenarios caused by the apartment is checked by the real-life issues it causes. Wilder never lets the film get too serious (which is hard to do when Fran attempts suicide, still he manages), but he is also well-aware of the important subject matter he attempts to address.

A few thoughts on the film.

The past seems so glamorous. Everything about New York in 1960 appears awesome. The clothing, the manner of speaking, the formality everything has in it. I know Wilder made the movie as present day, but to a viewer in 2009, the time capsule is complete. The attitudes of all characters in the film are very unlike people today; however everyone feels authentic. Not that I would really know the appropriate way to behavior, but I feel like I do now. By using the strong-clarity of 1960's black and white film technology, Wilder makes the simple (a middle-class apartment) feel like a whole world unto itself. Bud's office building filled with innumerable adding machines, desk jockeys and Boller caps is a visible phenomenon. Wilder transforms the mundane to grand by doing nothing more than filming it. Visually, that's the beauty of this movie.

Indeed, what used to be considered risque is now tame. As natural as that sounds, this topic must be considered. With HBO, R-rated movies and, my lord, the Internet, people's attitudes towards sexuality sure have changed. Even when watching the seemingly-harmless sitcom Scrubs, for example, the viewer is still given large doses of sex. In The Apartment, I don't think the word sex is even uttered. No skin is shown, no cursing, no over-the-top innuendo -- just allusions carry the film. Maybe that's why the film is so funny. The viewer is never hit over the head with sex; it's omni-present.

That being said, comedy is comedy. Jokes about President Eisenhower's chrome dome might not be funny, but the elements of comedy are still the same. Relatable scenarios with humorous takes, zanny conflicts with exaggerated characters and unexpected, well-timed reactions remain funny. Bud straining spaghetti with a tennis racket made me laugh. Fran's melancholy delivery of the mantra of a mistress, "When you're in love with a married man, you shouldn't wear mascara," is sad, but nonetheless funny. Bud's neighbors with heavy-German accents thinking that he's a sex deviant because they see a different woman leave his apartment every night and accusing him of being a bastard is funny. Unlike TBS, Wilder knows funny.

On the other hand, an example of Wilder's appropriate infusion of seriousness into the comedy is during Fran's suicide attempt. The scenario surrounding her attempt is that she learns her man is stringing her along and will never leave his wife (like he promises he'll do). So she over-doses on sleeping pills. When Bud finds her unconscious in his apartment, he must ditch the train-wreck of a lady he drunkenly brought home (funny), convince his Jewish-doctor neighbor to aide Fran -- despite the fact the doctor hates him for supposedly being a womanizing play boy -- (funny), and later keep her from attempting suicide again by essentially removing all items in his apartment she might use to ax herself off with (sounds serious but once again is funny).

Mixed in with the humor is the handling of the suicide itself. Wilder artfully juxtaposes the callousness of the business man who feels her attempt is a nuisance with Bud's silly but honest feelings towards her. The film portrays women as more than just objects used by the wealthy to achieve cheap pleasures. Although Bud may loses out financially by choosing love over success, he wins morally as his happiness with Fran far outweighs the alternative.

Moral of the story: Love can make you do some crazy things, but remember that it all hinges on whether the other person loves you for the real you. A Full House-type ending doesn't take away at all from mastery that is The Apartment.

--

Up next, (#92) A Place in the Sun, directed by George Stevens

Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant

2009-01-09T12:59:00.000-08:00

"The Garden Party" by Katherine Mansfield

Rabbits may be cute, but they don't give a damn about poor people.

A rich British family plans, delivers and cleans up a fancy, mid-summer garden party. Isn't it grand? However, the fun is spoiled for daughter Laura when a poor neighbor accidentally dies prior to the party. She actually has the audacity to suggest that her family postpone the occasion in honor of the dead peasant.

Mansfield's 1922 short story contrasts the rich and poor with the ever-popular light and darkness imagery. Laura's family, garden, house etc. are bathed in all the sun's riches; the poor dead dude is submerged in shadow. The story does well in sketching the upper classes attitude towards the unfortunate. Good phrases used to describe the poor include: “Their houses were the greatest possible eye soar;” “It was disgusting and sordid;” “People like that don’t expect sacrifice from us;” and “I can’t understand how they keep alive in those poky little holes.”

It is a shocking realization for Laura that people can suffer in misery unbeknownst to her in such a close proximity. The trifles of the garden party are insignificant compared to the sustained torment endured by the poor. Her family’s cold reaction to the poor doesn’t make them bad people. Instead, Mansfield was simply illustrating the general feeling of the establishment towards the lower class in this era.

---

Up next: "The Three-Day Blow" by Ernest Hemmingway

A Sustained Departure - Short and Sweet

2009-01-08T13:33:00.000-08:00

Delaying a bit what I got going on.

With a Barnes & Noble gift card I purchased a short story anthology. To increase posts on this here blog, I hope to intersperse brief reviews of short stories contained in the book. This is not meant as a substitution for any movie or novel, just an addition to the blog. The book is 50 Great Short Stories; it doesn't advertise them as the best, just great short stories. Milton Crane edited the series.

Up first: "The Garden Party" by Katherine Mansfield

Killing Never Seemed So Cool

2008-12-02T19:13:00.000-08:00

#94 -- Goodfellas directed by Martin Scorsese

As Henny Youngman says, "Take Liotta out of this film...please!"

It took Martin Scorsese five attempts to finally secure an Oscar for best director. Although I liked the film he eventually won with (2007's The Departed -- it's pretty sweet), I'd argue it may be the weakest of the Scorsese films (OK, it was better than The Aviator) and may not have even been the best in contention that year (Blood Diamond and Babel were both very deserving). My point being that Scorsese was rewarded for a lifetime of awesome films. One of which being the next on the AFI list -- Goodfellas.

Just when everyone thought mob movies had been done to death (especially mob movies with Robert DeNiro), Scorsese roared into 1990 and released a overtly honest, cleverly scripted and gruesomely gory flick that soldifies the genre, once again, as bankable and capable of new ideas.

Ray Liotta -- in the only thing I ever could stand him as, ever -- portrays Henry Hill, a half-Irish, half-Italian mobster turned eventually stool pigeon. The film, based on the book Wise Guy, runs throw the glamorous life of Hill and his New York-based croonies. DeNiro and Joe Pesci co-star in masterful roles as his two best goombas and really steal the show from Liotta.

Pesce and DeNiro are everything to this film. Their characters have so much depth and both excel in comedic and dramatic scenes alike. Pesce's portrayal of Tommy DeVito is iconic. His indecisiveness and self-consciousness makes him a frightening character to encounter. The oft-quoted "What do you mean I'm funny?" scene far exceeded my expectations. Duplicators lack the fear Pesce creates with the character; throughout the entire scene -- and film in general -- you feel Pesce has the potential to kill everyone in sight for no reason.

DeNiro is at the height of cool in this movie. Also playing a half-Irishman, Jimmy Conway, DeNiro commands the scene like his character commands a room -- through subtle demands. By snapping his fingers, whispering in a colleague's ear or nodding in the direction of what he wants, DeNiro dominates. Not as outwardly dangerous as Pesce's character, DeNiro does not refrain from inflicting violence or defending his turf. When Conway feels his wishes are not met, the results are startlingly deadly. One thing that I learned from Goodfellas is that if DeNiro tells me not to spend my recently-stolen money for awhile, I sure as hell will listen.

In fact, after talking about how awesome Pesci and DeNiro are, fuck Liotta: he severely detracts from this film. When DeNiro yells, it's purposeful, it's poetic; when Liotta mouthes off, it seems as if that's the only card he has in his deck. The climatic scene detailing a paranoid Liotta running errands on the day of his arrest is a symbolic for his acting in the movie. It's like he is always looking over his shoulder to see how much better Pesce and DeNiro are than he. Sadly, it's as hopeless for Hill as it is for Liotta.

There are other noteworthy elements that I feel at least deserve mention. Like in any good mob movie, food plays an important role. Often humor comes from the inclusion of food. At one point, hot-headed DeVito kills a made man; therefore, Conway and Hill have to aid DeVito in burying the man upstate. Instead of getting things done ASAP, the trio stops at DeVito's mom's house and eats dinner -- some good gravy there. Later in the film, during Hill's paranoid drug-dealing spree, he continually bases his movements on a crucial element -- the making of tomato sauce. Liotta, all coked-up and strung out, stirs the sauce and worries about its consistency mere moments before being ambushed by the feds.

Also great secondary character work throughout the film. Lorrainne Bracco (the future Dr. Melfi on The Sopranos) excels as Hill's battered, cuckolded wife. Paul Sorvino's role as the mob boss exudes a Brando-esque dominance. And, for me, Chuck Low is the film's most unappreciated actor. Playing the annoying, clingy, dependent, oh-god-shut-up!, Jewish Morrie Kessler, Low hangs with the big boys and somehow becomes an endearing character. On top of all that, cool cameos by Samuel L. Jackson, comedian Henny Youngman ("Take my wife...please!), and Michael Imperioli (Christopher from The Sopranos) advances the idea that no character is too small.

So despite having a leading man who takes away from the film, Goodfellas is the most tasteful and artistic mob movie outside of The Godfather series. Although Scorsese should have won for this one, I'm glad he finally got what he deserved (just like so many poor, dead gangsters in this film).

---
(#93) - The Apartment directed by Billy Wilder

I Think I Get It...

2008-11-24T14:13:00.000-08:00

#91 On the Road by Jack Kerouac

Like Alicia Silverstone, I am clueless...regarding Kerouac.

The Beat generation in America paved the way for the Hippies.

That much am I aware.

As depicted in Kerouac's so-called "novel that defined a generation" the Beats were without identity and wandered the country in search of something -- whether it be love, euphoria, or simply joy.

That much I am also aware.

Aside from that I don't know what exactly I got out of On the Road. I'm just not sure if I get it...but I kinda do.

The novel describes narrator Sal Paradise and his gone friend Dean Moriarity's travels across the great American landscape. Divided into five sections, each segment tells a different adventure. Sometimes they go East to West; others West to East. Whether hitchhiking, riding the bus, driving their own cars, stolen cars or being hired to move cars, they always somehow get from Point A to Point B. Eventually the pair finds itself in Mexico for what I guess you would call the novel's climax.

But that's about it...to me anyways.

On the Road is based off of the real life exploits of Kerouac (Sal Paradise) and Neal Cassady (Dean). Thrown in there are also numerous secondary characters, the most notable being Carlo Marx -- the alias of yet another Beat icon, Allen Ginsberg. Marx and Dean spend loads of time together in the early parts of the novel and are described by Kerouac as outcasts:

"They were like the man with the dungeon stone and the gloom, rising from the underground, the sordid hipsters of America, a new beat generation that I was slowly joining."

I would give context for that quote, but there is none. Throughout the whole book there is no context for any description. Kerouac writes long, rambling paragraphs that are heavy on adjectives but light on purpose. He rants and rants and rants about nothing.

Kerouac's pointless, stream-of-conscious diatribes to me are empty. Time and again he writes of massive nights where Dean and Sal go nuts in random American city. It's all the same every time. Denver, New York, San Francisco, New Orleans -- each has its own unique identities, but each is still essentially the same. They don't learn anything knew; the only growth is the further experience of repetitive partying. I dug the admiration for black bop and jazz music, but everything else felt hollow.

But maybe that's the point. Maybe the American experience is one of letdown and disappointment. Dean can never be content in one city, with one woman, living one life. He's restless. Thrilled only by the chase, the road, Dean really isn't a complete person. In a lot of ways Dean is just a symbol for the failure of the American dream. With a drunk for a father and no formal education, Dean floats along doing as he pleases until he is forced to deal with reality. For him, the reality is in the form of the countless bastard children and divorced wives he leaves scattered around the country.

Are Kerouac's experiences a lesson of what not to do? In a lot of ways I feel his recollections are mere documentations of wild nights and nothing more. I don't think Dean is painted as a sympathetic character, though, despite Kerouac's efforts to make him one. I feel only anger towards Dean, not pity. I think it's because he's such a fuck up; he destroys everything around him and constantly ruins others' lives. If he didn't affect others it would be one thing, but that's not the case. Dean is lost and is bringing everyone down with him in his catastrophe of a life.

What pisses me off the most about this book is the lack of a climax. Like I said before, eventually Dean and Sal stumble down to Mexico, and they love it. The backwards-ness of the impoverished country inspires them...to accomplish exactly the same thing they do in America. Namely, they get drunk, smoke lots of "tea" and pay for sex. This episode concludes with Sal contracting dysentery, Dean abandoning him and eventually Sal returning to America.

The novel's conclusion is essentially Dean won't change and continues to wander and screw people over in the process; Sal settles down with a lady; and the pair -- despite Sal's yearning -- don't rekindle their road wanderings. By the way, all of that is summed up in about six pages of text. I'm not saying Kerouac had to resolve everything, but I wish he accomplished something.

Yes, Kerouac's wanderings spoke to countless young Americans who felt out of place. The hopeless feeling certainly exists today, and I'm sure On the Road remains an anthem to many. But for those with at least small ambitions, this novel yields nothing.

---

Like I said before, a mystery guest will discuss Frankenstein. The next novel on my radar is (#90) Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. I read an abridged version in my junior year of high school.

Also, a film review is in the works.

Sicily As It Was

2008-07-21T17:15:00.000-07:00

#93 The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa

How'd you feel if you were kicked around for eternity?

I am Sicilian, yet I really do no know much about my heritage. Growing up, for whatever reason, I embraced and immersed myself more with the Irish half. I didn’t really have anything against the Italian in me, but it never really appealed as much. Possibly it was the language gap or the infatuation with style that held me back. In fact, until recently I didn’t even know that I was Sicilian (the other 25 percent is Neapolitan -- Naples, from what I hear, is pretty gross).

After graduating from high school, I traveled to Ireland. The love for the Emerald Isle grew, as did the indifference towards my Mediterranean roots. Following my sisters’ subsequent high school completion, they journeyed to Italy. Maybe that’s why they had a closer connection to my other homeland.

The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa made me appreciate my father’s background a lot more. It also gave me a little justification -- and relief -- for not knowing much about the culture: the real Sicilian culture.

Lampedusa’s surprisingly insightful and captivating novel on the demise of Sicilian nobility made me realize that I’ll never be able to know anything about one of homelands without visiting it. The ancient, backwards island has been kicked by the boot of the modern society, in addition to the geographic Italian peninsula, for hundreds of years. The French, Romans, Turks and probably the Mongolians at one point all colonized the island, ravaged it of natural resources and individual sovereignty, and imposed their respective tradition on the Sicilians. Oddly, a main point by The Leopard's protagonist, is that the Sicilians relish their sufferings and hardships.

As I’ve seen in many of the stories on this literary list, the setting is important. This would only be natural with many great works focusing on revolutions (social or otherwise), great trends or social injustices centered in a particular place and time. However, only half of a setting’s characteristics are important: the place, not the time. The Leopard itself occurs the period before, during and after the Red Coats act of uniting Italy under the leadership of Victor Emmanuel. Revolutionary leader Garribaldi’s visage hovers above the novel’s characters as he transforms from liberating demagogue to corrupt demi-goat over a 25-year span. The point Lampedusa makes, though, is that despite revolution, Sicily remains the same. Day-to-day actions of the islanders are not altered. A lethargic, blasé approach to life avoids political affiliation. Resistance to change and adherence to past and tradition rule the Sicilian mindset.

That past tradition is dying away with the Leopard himself, though. I suppose the time does matter, but not as much as one would think. The crux of the story deals with Don Fabrizio Salina's (the leopard is on his family crest) life. It starts during his middle age, the hight of his comfort. He is rich, powerful and will never have to worry about losing any his prestige. Yet, he does; not so much for himself, but about the future. He feels he is the last in a line of great Salina nobility, and he's accurate. Like in many societies, the nobles probably could have survived, but they, through inaction, do not move, do not alter the status quo. And while their loss of power is gradual, it is noticeable. At one point in the novel, it is evident that a character of non-noble has more money than him, making Don Fabrizio only the second richest person in Sicily. But that is symbolic in it of itself. Fifty years prior, it would be impossible for someone to rise up and secure funds. The nobility was the state. For the Leopard, he is now only a part of the state.

Later, Salina is offered a chance to serve in the newly established Sicilian senate. He scoffs at the idea, though. His way of dealing with problems is throwing money at it, not by establishing social programs or making education reform. Why would he demean himself by consorting with the common man? If Salina had wanted his family to prosper in the future, he could have begun a long line of Salina senators. Instead, his resistance ensured their death sentence.

But enough of that silly stuff. Let's talk about the grungy, dirty sex. Well, sort of. A significant portion of the novel dealt with fiery passions and lust. Early on, Don Fabrizio leaves his comfortable home for an evening with a whore. A lengthy discussion ensues detailing his love for his wife, but how their passions has been distinguished. Their sex life is over. So he has a chippy on the side. The author made it seem as this wasn't uncommon in 19th century Italy. Later, his nephew and his fiancée romp around the mansion doing everything but the nasty. They don't want to ruin the supposed marital bliss and feel the deprivation will make their sex life better. He heavily foreshadows that their life during marriage will be anything but happy and even their sex life will suck. Believe want you want about sex before marriage, but I thought it was bold for the time period for Lampedusa to suggest such improprieities against marriage.

Great book, though. Easy read and relatively short. If you have any Italian blood look up this masterpiece centered around the new nation-state of Italy.

---

(#92) Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is next. Possibly by a guest blogger.

To Catch a Salinger...

2008-07-07T13:45:00.000-07:00

# 94 The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Larry David is Holden Caulfield all grown up.

One’s perspective on a literary work is ever-evolving. To read a novel at 12 is monumentally different than at 15. Rendering an opinion at 21 yields an even fresher outlook that makes your previous readings elementary. However, no matter what age, when one reads a work for a third time, it is quite natural for more in-depth conclusions to be drawn.

This description describes my third stab at J.D. Salinger's novel, The Catcher in the Rye. Recommended to me by my grandfather at an early age, I became enamored with the piece. Re-reading it again in high school, the infatuation continued. Checking Facebook recently, it appeared that I would not be alone in my fondness for the novel.

That reason is exactly why I decided to tread very carefully for my third read through and subsequent review. I feel in a lot of ways that the books in Harry Potter series are the only novels read more by America's youth -- and possibly by the greater population as whole -- than The Catcher in the Rye. People don't like to read criticisms on things they cherish. (Check out Left of the Dial's review and comments for the recent Pattern is Movement album if you don't believe me.)

All that said, I still liked the story of Holden Caulfield's odyssey. A lot. But in many different ways than I did when I was 12.

One aspect the novel excels in is Salinger's masterful characterization of a teenager. Caulfield's language in narration accurately portrays how dumb teenagers really are, drastic their emotions can change in a second and -- despite claims to moral superiority -- hypercritical teenagers can be.

His constant inclusion of the word "ironical" was comical and something I overlooked as a child (possibly because at the time I thought it was a word). Other great words in his vernacular that he overused the shit out of include: "lousy," "terrific," "bastads," "flit," " sexy stuff," "pervy" and, of course, "phony." This really illustrates the limited vocabulary possessed by Caulfield and teens in general. Salinger's ability to capture this verbal immaturity rounds out Caulfield's character and gives insight to his stunted maturity level, as well.

Caulfield emotionally describes things that are important to him in one instant, than insignificant the next. He's the king of the mood swing. And very slight things set him off. Everything rains on his parade. Judgmental to a fault, he lets others personality aspects affect his emotions and stunts his individual growth. While eating lunch with two nuns, he becomes very upset initially because of the presence of a shabby-looking basket for charity collections. Despite the nuns reassurance to him that they are teachers and weren't collecting money, he dwells on this one detail and can't enjoy what would otherwise be a pleasant lunch. This occurs later when Holden runs into his brother's ex-girlfriend in a bar. Her new boy is an Ivy League chap, which instantly makes him a jerk. Holden leaves just because he's a fancy college boy. In a lot of ways, Holden is like Larry David.

Instead of expounding on Caulfield's hypocrisy (and teens in general), I'll just list a few that bugged me:

--Hates movies, but consistently goes.
--Lashes out at Ackley for standing in his light, later ignores Stradlater's request to move out of his light.
--Cringes at Stradlater's motives as always being sexy, then invasively questions Columbia kid's sex life in a bar.

There's more, but those ones stuck in my mind, weeks later.

Children play an important part in the novel and really give credence to my mother's theory that the phrase "the catcher in the rye" is about parenthood. The only people it seems that Holden can tolerate are children. Whether it be a kid playing in the street, two boys "being yellow" at the Museum of Natural History, a little girl asking for help with her skate key or any instance involving his sister Phoebe or deceased brother Allie, Caulfield only has peace of mind when dealing with children. He greatly wants to protect all those young (as seen in helping those boys in the museum, using the girl's skate key or wiping "Fuck" off the school's wall). He wants to be the catcher in rye making sure they don't fall off that cliff.

It is "ironical," though, because Caulfield himself is just a child -- his maturity level is so stunted that he can't tolerate being around people his own age who care about things unrelated to childhood. In no way can he help kids out; he needs to find his own catcher. He tries in vain to search for one, too. The old teacher at Pencey, Jean Gallagher, Stradlater, Ackley, Sally Hayes, his former English teacher now at NYU, a former student at a previous school, D.B., his sister are all potential catchers. Oddly his parents are the only ones he doesn't actively pursue for help. Sure, Holden is a basket-case, but he really is only looking for a little guidance.

Salinger may be a mystery and I hope sometime we find those manuscripts he's hid away since the 1950s, but his gift of Holden Caulfield to all teenagers (and to those lost in general) is enough of a literary contribution that will live on well past his death. Maybe The Catcher in the Rye itself serves as a self-help book for all those souls out there looking for something to relate with. Maybe that's why it's in everyone's Facebook profiles.

In the very least, it establishes proper etiquette on how not to talk to a pimp.
---

The next book will be (#93) The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa -- an I-Tall-Yan.

Soulja Boy Went to War Riding On a Pony

2008-06-17T19:45:00.000-07:00

#96 -- The Good Soldier Svejk by Jaroslav Hasek

It was lights out for Svejk like it was for Tony...ambigious.

A few novels in and I’ve finally found one I can rip apart. This is not to say that The Good Soldier Svejk by Jaroslav Hasek was bad or undeserving of its position on this list. On the contrary really. Hasek’s lone novel masterfully lampoons warfare. In fact, Hasek’s disdainful view on almost everything -- military related or otherwise -- is a blueprint for satire. Priests, government officials, teachers, doctors, Germans, Czechs, Catholics, Jews, whatever, Hasek went to town and made the world look ridiculous.

Additionally, the novel is illustrated with ridiculous caricatures. It was a great way to break up text and conveyed points more effectively. Hasek’s humor -- however dark and crass it was -- benefited from the more than one hundred doodles.

Usually epilogues are unnecessary or corny. Writers try to tie up all loose ends that normally would be relegating to the resolution in a few short pages. Maybe Hasek’s works because it has nothing to do with the story and appears following the novel’s first part (not at the book’s end). All that he accomplishes with this post script (essentially that’s what it is) is to bitch about censorship and lame people. Hasek complains that readers are often too sensitive and how this sensitivity harms literature. As I will elaborate later, it’s a crude book. Hasek argues, well here, that if this is how people really talked, why would he refrain from including it? Honesty and accuracy is most important in comedy. Anyone can make a joke and say that President Bush is a Nazi. But a better joke would include a solid foundation in fact. Hasek’s satire utilizes facts very affectively, so bollix to all those lame-os that can handle the pressure. (Granted what people were offended about in 1920 is tame by today standards, but the point is valid.)

There are a few things I wish I had known before reading Hasek’s masterpiece, though, and they are the basis of the aforementioned “ripping.” It’ll benefit you if a desire ever struck to read this laborious, yet enjoyable novel.

1. Nothing the titled-character ever says is worth reading -- Svejk is a certifiable, self-admitted imbecile. His bumblings are humorous and heart-warming. However, nothing he ever says should be read. Hasek wasn’t including his countless, page-long rambling stories to be critically interpreted. They were intended to illustrate that diarrhea of the mouth is a mortal sin.

A typical dialogue with Svejk went like this:

“Svejk, you idiot, why did you put on that Russian prisoners uniform?” asked Lieutenant Lukas. Svejk smiled an idiotic grinned and innocently replied. “Well sir, you told us that we should know our enemy, and the best way to know your enemy is by trying on their clothes. At least that’s what this gentleman at the bar The Chalice told me. He said everyday he’d break into another person’s home -- male or female -- and try on their wardrobe for the day. This way, he was able to view life through the eyes of a monk, a butcher, a bullfighter, a whore. He said because of his lifestyle choice everyday he got to be a new person. So when I saw the Russian soldier had run off and left his clothes, what other choice did I have? An order is an order, sir, and the way I see it, I would be committing high treason if I didn’t put them on.” Lieutenant Lukas starred blankly at Svejk before giving him three across the jaw.

If I had known that Svejk’s words were this insignificant before hand, I could have read the novel in afternoon. Hasek must be quite the bull-shitter to keep Svejk full of dialogue.

2. Soldiers in the First World War (at least those fighting for the Central Powers) drank, told crude jokes and engaged in a fare share of lewd acts -- I know that this novel is satire and not too be taken literally, but throughout the entirety of the book, everyone was drunk all the time. From officers to infantrymen to cooks to chaplains, everyone is rightly tossed. Hasek’s point -- I believe -- is that in war, morality is abandoned and vices pile up. Each soldier drinks heavily, constantly is on the prey for females, and smokes anything they can get their hands on. That’s nothing to say for the mindless killing that occurs.

3. There’s a reason the punctuation is all weird -- Quotations are done like this:

Svejk said to Lieutenant Dub in the latrines, ‘I’m shit out of luck. Or, like my mother said, “Take that Franz Joseph.” '

Normal quotation marks only occurred within quotations. I thought maybe this was some Czech style lost in translation. At the end of the novel, though, I find out the reason: it is a dictation. Hasek read the prose and someone wrote it down. So the primary quotation was the entire book. This leads me to my final point…

4. The novel has no ending -- Seven hundred and fifty-two pages in, and I am greeted by this message:

“This was the point reached by Jaroslav Hasek in dictating The Good Soldier Svejk and his Fortunes in the World War. He was already ill and death silenced him forever on 3 January 1923. It prevented him from completing one of the most famous and widely-read novels published after the First World War.”

The novel wasn’t finish! There’s no ending! Svejk never even gets to the war itself! It was very disconcerting to have no conclusion, resolution, what have you. I’m not talking about tying up loose ends, just “Svejk got shot and died” would have been better.

I suppose it is fair to say that The Good Soldier Svejk and his Fortunes in the World War ended like The Sopranos. Fortunately, I was sparred from Journey.

----

Up next, a novel Pat Rush just finished and I’ve read twice, (#95) The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger.

Not From Concentrate, Plenty of Pulp

2008-05-31T11:37:00.001-07:00

#95 Pulp Fiction - directed by Quentin Tarantino

If you think about it, Pulp Fiction is as hopeful as Bambi.

Upon viewing Pulp Fiction as an early teen, I was blown away by the music, dancing, violence, ass-fucking, drug use...everything. Years later, what strikes me most about the film is the depth and heart is possesses. As a kid all the flash that goes along with it hits you. I feel like as a youngster I was truly taking in by the glamor of the underworld. Upon seeing it now, though, I was all wrong.

Quentin Tarantino utilizes an all-star staff to achieve his finest film to date (Sorry to all those Jackie Brown fans). I mean Bruce Willis, Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman, John Travolta, Ving Rhames -- big studs, man. However, unlike all his other movies where one central plot exists (robbery, revenge, grindhousin'), Pulp Fiction is about how all these different stories come together.

Like I said before, the dialogue is top-notch. Exchanges are quick, surreal and oh-so poignant. Whether it's the Royale with Cheese, the watch monologue or Fox Force Five Tarantino earns us chops as a writer. In other films, it wears on me, but Pulp Fiction never gets to the point of being annoying.

Another aspect that's great about this film is the out-of-sync developing. That way you really understand that Jackson's character has witnessed a miracle and will turn over a new leaf (sequel anyone?). However, it's a little confusing at times, so I'll reorder the film in a proper sequence. I'm sure I forgot something.

*NOTE DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE FILM
(But come on, this came out like 15 years ago. Get with it.)

-Butch gets his watch as a little kid.
-Vincent and Jules ride around, go to dude's house, almost get killed, pop caps themselves.
-Marvin dies, Vincent and Jules go to Jimmie's house and the Wolf helps them. They take a taxi to a diner.
-Honey Bunny and Ringo are all cutesy before they decided to rob the diner.
-Vincent goes to the bathroom, Bunny and Ringo try to rob diner, Jules won't give up the brief case. Situation occurs, is resolved. No one dies, everyone goes on their way.
-Butch and Marsellus discuss the fight Butch is to throw.
-Jules (presumably) quits, Vincent gets more info. about his date with Mia.
-Vincent goes to by drugs.
-Date with Mia. She OD's on his drugs, but is okay.
-Butch wins fight, escapes.
-Other fighter dies, Marsellus launches head-hunt for Butch.
-Butch and Fabienne talk, do sex stuff, realize they don't have his father's watch.
-Butch goes back to find watch, kills Vincent, hits Marsellus with car. All hell breaks lose, and Marsellus gets done in the butt. Ouch. Butch frees him and they strike up a truce. Butch escapes.
-THE END

Honestly, it wouldn't be nearly as good if Tarantino did it this way. So kudos to Quentin.

Also, lots of super-cool cameos, which I painstakingly high-light below.
Cameos:
-Kathie Griffin (of Suddenly Susan fame) as herself;
-Julia Sweeney (Saturday Night Live) as girl that owns tow-lot that will look the other way;
-Phil Lamarr (Mad TV) as poor, poor Marvin;
-Tarantino, as Jimmie Dimmick;
-Steve Buscemi (every Cohen brothers' movie ever) as Buddy Holly...yeah, seriously;
-and of course, Christopher Walken, who never needs an explanation.

While before I thought this was a glamorization of crime, sex, drugs and violence, now I realize it was none of that. If anything, it's a PSA against all of those vices and ailments that plague society. What Pulp Fiction is really about is escape and re-birth. Throughout the movie, people that stayed in the underground were punished. Marcellus gets fucked in the ass; all the dudes that torture him get it given right back to them; his wife OD's; Vincent Vega gets killed.

Although you don't know what happens to any of the characters that escape, Tarantino makes all their exits hopeful. Butch and Fabienne begin a new life in the South Pacific; Honey Bunny and Ringo have some cash in their pockets and incentive to reform; Jules has a new lease on life. For all the mindless lust that is depicted in the film, the real theme is rebirth and second chances.

And I'm glad I took a second chance on Pulp Fiction.
---
Up next (#94) Goodfellas directed by Martin Scorsese

White Washing Memories and Consciences

2008-05-05T10:55:00.000-07:00

#95 The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

I almost thought Tom Hanks was gonna make an appearance towards the end.

Semester's kill me. On account of all the fancy book-learning and Collegian (and Chevron Says) writing I do, the Lemon Disco blog falls to the wayside. Pretty sad stuff. However, with this post my triumphant return at pretending to be a literary critic is in place. I know that I noted something else as my next piece, but constraints on what the library had available six months ago forced my hand into reviewing The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins (a dude).

Much like the previously-reviewed Dracula, TWIW utilized first-person journal entries as the means of telling a thrilling caper with numerous twists and/or turns. Although there are primarily two narrators, several are used. Unlike Dracula, though, Collins only employees first-person journal entries written in a collection for legal purposes -- newspapers, letter or tomb stones don't document this story.

When I picked up the book originally, I (erroneously) judged by its cover that it would be a lame love-story, a romance novel, a chick-flick in prose form. Thankfully, I was wrong and found an intriguing story of deception. The woman in white was not so much a character but instead, a ghost of a person that evildoers used as tool to do their evil. Her name was Anne Catherick, and I feel like she had less than eight pages of dialogue in the lengthy novel. She's more of a catalyst than a character.

We've seen this plot before: artist boy is poor, gets employed by rich English man to teach his niece to draw; boy falls for niece, and vice versa; conflict -- niece is betrothed to prude dude; boy dramatically leaves for America; wedding ensues; turns out prude dude is only in it for the money and, with fat Italian man, arranges a false death with a niece look-a-like; boy comes back from America to find his love is dead; not really, though, so it becomes his mission to clear her name and restore her legacy.

Typical English literature, right?

Many characters, plot turns and strong-armingnesss leads to a interesting read. Not light on the pages, but, unlike Dracula, these pages are more purposeful. Meaningless scene description is not included, and the plot continues to evolve right up until the end. Even after the climax, a solid denouement ties the loose ends together and answers all lingering questions one may have had about the resolution and characters.

There are a few themes and similarities with previous novels written about on this blog that I would like to go into.

I understand women were viewed differently in 17th Century England, but TWIW is not an empowering read. Certain feminist aspects exist, but on the whole, most women are depicted as weak and subservient to men. One of the biggest problems occurs because the niece, Laura, is too frail a figure to testify on the conspiracy regarding her faked death. Collins made the boy, Walter Hartright, jump through very elaborate and convoluted hoops to rectifying the wrong. Fat Italian man's wife is depicted as a viper in one sentence, but a faithful conjugal being in the next. All her actions are laid out by her husband, and she is purposeless without his guidance.

Two strong ladies are here, but they are brow-beaten with insults from the author. The niece's sister, Marian, is the strongest and most dynamic character in the novel. She is a constant source of strength for her sister and Walter, and she is instrumental in the restoration of her sister's legacy. However, Collins describes her, pretty much, as being ugly as sin. No man would ever be interested in someone as man-ish and independent as Marian. Maybe Collins was writing about how the world wasn't ready for the strong woman -- despite her existence -- but I wasn't buying it.

The other empowering figure defamed by Collins was the mother of the girl who's death allowed for Laura to appear dead -- Mrs. Catherick. This woman sold her daughter out, deceived a man into marrying her and in essence, was a cheap floozy that valued money and status more than humanity. But boy was she a tough cookie. Collins makes her out to be a bitch, but a strong bitch that I'd never want to fuck with.

Sure, feminism is a topic that I've delved into a few times before on this blog, but secret societies is an uncharted territory. About seven-eights into the novel, Collins introducing a da Vinci Code-esq group known only to the reader as the "Brotherhood." This group exists for political purposes and forces its members to be called upon at a given moment to achieve political ends -- namely, assassination. Its inclusion in TWIW is a little unnecessary and sort of a cop-out (the Italian man's membership in this group forces his other-wise unsympathetic hand to yield), but it is still interesting as hell. Collins effectively describes that throughout history, groups like the "Brotherhood" cause change, define what the status quo is and run countries without the public ever knowing or wanting to know. It made me a little uncomfortable, though, and cause me to wonder who is the man behind the curtain in our nation.

To tie this in with other books on this list, TWIW describes a hallmark of English literature: cold professionalism. In The Hound of the Baskervilles, Dracula and TWIW lawyers, policemen, doctors and citizens in general are very detached from the subjects they encounter. I've seen this in British literature outside this list in the works of Dickens; a character like Uriah Heep (not the band) goes about his work in a professional manner that is business as usual, no matter what the circumstances are. Maybe it is all about the benjamins, but white-collared workers in the UK are cold bitches.

Although Gone with the Wind has been my favorite thus far, I can say that The Woman in White runs a close second. When the lovers love, the bad dudes meet their reckonings or when people are simply hanging out, I intimately followed the characters in this piece. I'm glad I read this one and am even considering viewing the 1940s movie based on it.
----
Up next:
Movies - Pulp Fiction (#95)
Novels - The Good Soldier Svjek (#96) by Jaroslav Hasek

Paging Doctor Acula....Dr.Acula

2007-12-21T19:34:00.000-08:00

#97 Dracula by Bram Stoker

He's been a blood sucker longer than Carson Daily.

Back in the book blogging game, I return - finally - with my Dracula review. A few preliminary, non-educational things before I get into the meat of this review. One, the book's author Bram Stoker's first name is short for Abraham...I thought thought that was cool. Good stuff, Abe. Two, in his movie, Mel Brooks follows the basic plot pretty closely; whereas Young Frankenstein - like many Frankenstein movies - alters Mary Shelley's plot, Dracula: Dead and Loving It honors Stoker well.

One of the initial aspects of Dracula that first strikes you is the medium in which it is delivered. Stoker chose to write it limited, first-person in the from of letters, diary entries, newspaper articles, telegrams and other various methods of communication in 19th century Europe. Novelty aside, this method works as the truly scientific nature of the piece is conveyed more affectively. As the story evolves, the reader reflects on hypotheses laid out and conclusions drawn; Stoker lets you think that you are reading a scientific journal written by some pretty educated dudes. Also, the story's climax is told by a character who is watching the action from a distance; it's odd to have a play-by-play account of a battle or conversation, but it works for Stoker.

A major character in the novel is Mina Harker, the wife of a solicitor (British talk for lawyer) and recent victim of a vampire's bite. All other characters - including the legendary Van Helsing - worship her; yet, they continually demean her. I understand women were not held in the highest regard back then, but they give her so many backhanded compliments, it's silly. Every time she comes up with a brilliant idea (that the men, for all their Ph.D's, were not able to devise), they are shocked. I think she bailed their asses out at least six times in the novel. Aside from offering noble chivalry towards Mina, the nicest compliment ever paid by them is saying she has "a man's brain." Nice. I'd like to think Stoker was a feminist and proved a point by making one of his protagonists a woman.

Aside from rampant chauvinism, another thought-provoking aspect is the appearance of religious symbol. By looking at standard urban legends, it is commonly held that vampires are kept at bay by crucifixes, holy water, rosary beads, etc. Chief vampire slayer in Dracula, the aforementioned Van Helsing, uses all of these as tools against the count. An addition that I wasn't aware of, but feel probably was in that movie Bram Stoker's Dracula, was the inclusion of the Eucharist as a (primary) tool in defeating vampires. The tone of the play dripped of religious fervor. I suppose when one is faced with the possibility of walking the earth for centuries after their earthly death, feasting on the flesh of humans, he or she may start praying a little bit more than before. What struck me as interesting was how often doctors Van Helsing and (principle character) John Seward referred to God. I suppose this is set in a time when the church and medicine were not strictly at war with each other, but it still seemed odd for a doctor to include in his medical notes a phrase like "If only the good Lord would intervene."

On top of the religious symbol was the awesome gross-out factor. The bloody details Stoker used to describe the gruesome accounts of a vampires death were stomach churning. If you don't like term "decapitated the head and filled the loose cranium with garlic" then maybe Dracula isn't for you.

Character development is great, though. Aside from Mina and Van Helsing, Seward really steals the show. The owner of a sanitarium in London, Seward falls for the destined for vampire-hood Lucy; after he is romantically rebuffed by her, Seward still remains her devoted friend and tries to cure her of the ailment....of being a vampire. When Mina is sick or Lucy dies, Seward displays deep affection and grief; his diary entries are the darkest and show the kind of emotion only the owner of a nut house can possess. Additionally, fascinating in of himself is the titled charactered, Dracula. Crafty and evil, with the strength of an Irish setter (it's a strong dog, I swear), Van Helsing characterizes the count as one with the brain of a child. His justification lies in the fact that Dracula can only focus on one prey at a time. Although (as demonstrated by my weak explanation) I never fully grasped Van Helsing's characterization, it gives more depth to Dracula's character than is typically alloted.

A criticism I will make, though, is that Stoker painstakingly describes every last detail and development. The events leading up to the finale took seven chapters and roughly 150 pages; Stoker could have summed up everything in two chapters, 30 pages. I don't mind long books; as you can see by my Gone With the Wind (1,000 pages) review, sometimes I love them. The pages just have to be meaningful, and this one is drawn out.

Another critique is in the form of a lame post-script written by Mina's boring, yet devoted husband Jonathan Harker. Here, Harker wraps up the story seven years later. This includes unnecessary information about some characters getting married, a trip back to Transylvania and the naming of the Harker's first child. It's sappy, trite and screams of a Hollywood ending. I know Stoker wrote this years before Tinseltown, but it seemed as if he knew some dumb kid would want to know what happened to Van Helsing after the vampires.

As a whole, Dracula is a good read that sometimes is long-winded and sappy. It does scare at times, but the fear is based on the psychology of it all, more than boogie-men, or vampires, rather.

----
Who knows when I'll finish this, but the next book for me is the first one I've never heard of, The Good Soldier Svjek (#96)by Jaroslav Hasek. Oh boy.

And, a Pulp Fiction review should be out soon.

And I Still Haven't Found, What I'm Looking 4

2007-09-22T09:10:00.001-07:00

#96 The Searchers directed by John Ford

If you thought the PATRIOT Act was bad, wait until he illegally searches you.

Titles of movies and band names often blend together. "The Untouchables," "Men Without Hats," "Deuce Bigalow Male Gigolo," "Initech." Which is which?

John Wayne's epic Western The Searchers stirs the memory of 50s and 60s R&B groups. The name has the feel of the Coasters or Temptations or even the Proclaimers (although, they are a mid-90s Australian one-hit wonder....."(I Will Walk) 500 Miles"....I'm sure it was like on a car commercial or in the trailer of a Sandra Bullock movie, too). In fact, the band the Searchers were not a Motown Barry Gordy product, but instead a contemporary of the Beatles. Who knew?

Aside from whatever misguided notion I held regarding the movie, a part of my past came out half-way through the picture. More on that later.

Remember the Civil War? Well, Wayne's character does. After the surrender at Appomattox, he takes the South's defeat a little too personally and wonders around the country being a crazy, vigilante nomad that enjoys showing up all those dirty, carpetbagging Yankees. The movie opens with him returning home several years after the war has ended. His family (brother, sister-in-law and their kids) is happy to greet him, but do notice he is a little crazy.

All of that is explained in like five seconds and then everyone is brutally murdered by Indians. EXCEPTIONS - Wayne (as unbalanced, vigilante Confederate), the family's adopted half-Indian son and a little girl who was kidnapped by the "Injuns." Shortly into the movie, you realize what they are searching for, the little girl.

Then all of a sudden you realize that the characters you spent a little time getting to know and thought were going to be the focus are dead. So, the film introduces a whole new slew of Texans to further confuse you.

After extension research and lab results, you finally sorta figure out what's going on. Wayne and Indian boy look for girl. Simple enough. But a subplot exists between Indian boy and girl who was the sister of a boy that was seeing Indian boy's adoptive sister. This loosely connected character who suddenly becomes integral to the plot is played by Natalie Wood. So good for her.

All of that seems convoluted (and is), but it takes up little screen time. Mostly, you see Wayne and halfie traverse these ridiculously well-filmed scenes following or "searching" for the Red man. Every so often it cuts back to Wood hanging out, longing for her little Indian boy.

What brings the movie back to my life is a little scene half-way through the movie. A few years back my (extended) family and I were vacationing down the Jersey Shore, as we are prone to do. While watching TV one night, we had quite the giggle-fest, which featured my father comparing a facially-distorted woman to claymation, a weird boarding house joke and us a laughing at this stupid, hick dude playing guitar and screaming "She did?!?"

That little scene was taken from The Searchers. Half-Indian boy gets conned into taking an Indian wife. He writes a letter to Wood and she reads it aloud to a group of onlookers. When she mentions her lover's elicit affair, hick dude screams out his line that kept my family in stitches. I find it amusing how one scene taken out of context can be so entertaining to a group of people in the right state of mind.

As for the movie itself, the director John Ford (The Grapes of Wrath, The Quite Man) poses some interesting philosophical questions. Initially, the search for the little girl is tiresome and unfulfilling. The two long to find their objective, but like Ahab and Moby Dick, their inevitably quest becomes more important than what they are trying to find.

When they finally do corral the girl (years later) she refuses to go with them. All the searching was for nothing. In the search that is life, the end product is almost never what you were looking for in the first place. However, Ford doesn't let this temporary obstacle faze him and they do eventually (again years later) convince her to desert the Indian life for a more refined one.

Would this movie be better, more poetic, more artsy if they never were reunited with their lost family member? I felt that way until I thought about the last scene of the movie some more. The girl, the Indian boy and Wood (now his future wife) walk into the house, complacent and at peace. Wayne watches them go, then turns around, gets back on his horse and literally rides off into the sunset.

For some men, the search takes the life from you.

-----
Honestly, it is tough to find time to read non-required books at school, but I hope Dracula will be done sooner than later (mid-October?) The next movie will be the first one I already have seen Pulp Fiction (#95).

Los tres amigos

2007-08-14T10:19:00.000-07:00

#98 The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas

His vice-like grip on the affairs of Europe was staggering.

Swashbuckling, roof-top jumping and sexy mustaches are about all I knew going into The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas. It turns out I was wrong on almost all three accounts. I unfairly lumped musketeers in with pirates; Dumas’ men were more gallant than swashbuckling. Also, most of their adventures were personal – not grand political coups – so it involved duel-fighting instead of the jumping. However, the ‘staches did run supreme.

All-in-all most assumptions going into the book were false. Possibly because of my many erroneous assumptions The Three Musketeers went above my expectations (and yes, I expected more than chocolate covered nougat).

The tale is an adventure set in Richelieu-dominated France. When the book opens Louis XIII is the king of France who is estranged from his wife (Anne of Austria) and allows himself to be manipulated by Cardinal Richelieu. People are divided into factions – the royalists and the cardinalists and Catholics and Huguenots (Protestants). Basically the Protestants are non-existent except for a small group in La Rochelle which the Cardinal decides to isolate to punish the queen (who is in love with the duke of Buckingham, England’s chief diplomat). Sounds like a modern day soap opera a little, doesn't it?

Lots of royal intrigue throughout the novel, which the musketeers sometimes knowingly and other times ignorantly play a big part in. The brief biography of Dumas in my edition says “his work ignored historical accuracy, psychology, and analysis, but its thrilling adventures and exuberant inventiveness” delighted readers. OK, so the three musketeers might not have been involved with almost all the major events of Louis XIII’s reign, but it's nice to pretend (and a hell of a lot more interesting that way). They were real, though, so that’s all that really matters (Athos, Porthos and Aramis were the known pseudonyms for three down-on-their-luck French nobles).

Another fallacy I had going into this novel, which I feel is very important, is the idea that the three musketeers themselves are the protagonists. FALSE. A younger, smarter, handsomer and better fighting country boy named d’Artagnan is the focus of everything. Not only is he the main character, he also skillfully manipulates the cardinal, the evil Lady de Winter and even the three musketeers.

D’Artagnan drives the plot, but the three friends serve as representations of the human personality - so they are the symbolic mumbo-jumbo (You didn’t think I had the hypothesis of an English major inside of me, did ya?). Athos is the wizened, thoughtful being, Porthos the vein, attention-starved, comedy type, with Aramis serving the spiritual side of things. The phrase “All for one and one for all,” (coined by d’Artagnan, not by one of the three) not only shows their unity in battle, but also exhibits their unity of spirit and mind. Separate they may be stock characters but if viewed as a whole the three musketeers are a complete personality. How ‘bout that for theoretical bull shit?

Respect and honor are concepts Dumas touches upon numerous occasions. In the 17th Century, self-respect and image were more important than life. Death over a frivolous misunderstanding was considered noble. When men walk down the street and a passerby sneezes in the wrong direction, a duel is fought. If a lady is playing Connect Four and her opponent cheats, a duel is fought. Moreover, if a person confuses the definition between “fortnight” and “forthright,” you better believe a duel will be fought.

In addition to views on honor, the author has a unique opinion on women. Dumas depicts a woman as the main villain. Milady aka Lady de Winter aka Countess de La Fere aka Charlotte Backson serves as the devil personified. Crushing men’s hearts – along with other anatomical entities – to her was as mundane as brushing her teeth. The author makes the point that women were not necessarily silly and inferior (a novel concept back then) but instead duplicitous and cunning. Their sway over men – in the book – caused wars to be fought, people to loose their lives and reputations as well as grudges to be held unnecessarily. It seems Dumas thought that if women were not causing the destruction of Western society, it was a dull day for them.

I've yet to be disappointed by a book on this list (crossing fingers). So far I like Gone With the Wind the best, though. Maybe I'm just a sap for Southern charm. School's starting up soon, so we'll see if I am able to continue my readings. The next book - who knows when I'll get it done - will be Bram Stoker's Dracula (# 97). I hope I can finish it by Halloween.

Kiss Me Kate

2007-08-04T09:23:00.000-07:00

#97 Bringing Up Baby directed by Howard Hawks

Old ladies aren't the only dinosaurs in this movie

Often times I go into a movie without doing background research because I feel it will hinder my viewing experience or give me an unwanted preconceived notion from someone else's negative or positive opinion. Usually, I even try to avoid reading the On-Demand description or the blurb written on the back of the box.

So when I sat down to view yet another Katherine Hepburn movie, Bringing Up Baby, co-staring Cary Grant, I expected some light romantic comedy where the two of them would be like a married (or divorced) couple who would be thrust into having a baby. Hepburn would be headstrong, cold and distant; Grant a hunk who got whatever he want. Pretty much I thought it would be a prequel to The Philadelphia Story.

First off, the movie itself is not a simple romantic comedy. Although a love story drives the story, this film is - as many agree - is one of the first and best screwball comedies of all time. The plot revolves around trying to lasso a leopard ("Baby") while at the same time keeping up a rouse that Grant is a big game hunter (he really is a paleontologist - even though the movie says zoologist) who just experienced a nervous brake down. Ridiculous situation follows ridiculous situation. The audience - even though they root for the couple - never really has a chance to catch their breath and realize they are being tricked into watching a romantic movie.

That fact may be help by the unromantic-ness of the characters. Grant, the consummate Hollywood heartthrob, is a big nerdy scientist. Stammering, awkward and socially inept, Dr. John Huxley is totally under the thumb of rich socialite Susan (Hepburn) and doesn't even know it. That's because Hepburn - although controlling - is just as clumsy and awkward as he. She is a silly, rich girl who sees a toy that she wants (the good doctor) and won't let his impending marriage to his prudish manager stand in her way.

This movie did initially did terrible at the box office and was the last film done at RKO Studios by Hepburn before she bought her contract out - a ballsy move to say the least. Helped by the advent of VCRs, DVDs and even a re-release in a newly colored version (there's Gilligan's Island old episodes like this, too) the film slowly gained recognition as a truly visionary comedy. Initial response, box office figures and critics' remarks are not a true way to measure the importance of a movie. Imagine if Hepburn and Grant's careers nose-dived after this? What would we do? Maybe Gigli should get another look then.

Another comment is the good deal stereotypes older movies have in them. This one depicts an alcoholic Irish gardener, a black driver, a brainy German psychiatrist and, worst of all, a frigid, decrepit, rich, old Protestant lady who screams "Well, I never!" a lot. Stock characters, sure, are important, but let's develop people at least a little bit.

My review of the candy-bar book will be out soon. The next movie will be #96 The Searchers.

Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog

2007-07-23T10:41:00.000-07:00

#99 The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Watson may have wanted to be a little bit more intimate with the good sherlock.

After reading the lengthy Gone With the Wind, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes' classic The Hound of the Baskervilles brevity was indeed refreshing. The same could be said for Doyle's cutting dialog, clever scenarios and curve balls to keep you guessing throughout the read.

THOTB tells a tale of an established English family cursed by an ancestor who supposedly possesses a massive hound that haunts inhabitants of their manor....or so you are led to believe. Bottom line - someone is killed, Holmes and Dr. Watson are contracted to solve the mystery/protect the heir. Many twists and turns later, mystery solved, everyone is happy.

Some words on the novel, though.

Holmes may be one of the most interesting English characters ever created. Every time he appears, the reader is enticed by his genius and enthralled by every mystery (no matter bigger or small) he solves. The novel opens with a cane left at his house; after looking at it for thirty seconds Holmes predicts (accurately) the build of the man and his occupation. Sure, it's easy when the author is creating all of this, yet there is a great charm and mystery that Doyle keeps about the detective that does not disappoint.

Watson, on the other hand, is a big boob. Sadly for the reader, Watson narrates the story with his boobery (thank my mom for that adjective) and is much more active in the novel then Holmes. The pay-off for Holmes' absence is worth it, but the cost of spending time with this medical moron is painful.

Also, Holmes and Watson have this odd homo-erotic relationship going on between them. I've read that Watson had a wife in the first few books but she isn't mentioned in this one. For no reason the pair go to an art gallery in the middle of the novel and hang out. If I had the time, I bet I could prove that Watson had the hots for the sherlock. It would go for naught, however, as it seems Holmes is asexual and has no time for silly physical or emotional happiness.

Small shock to me when reading the book - Holmes apparently has a cocaine habit (Check this article out on it). Doyle doesn't directly allude to it in THOTB but he does depict the detective brooding in a smokey room where he loses all touch with reality and becomes fully in touch with the world of the crime. Watson reports feeling very light-headed every the incident and asks to open a window. I'm not sure why Doyle would give Holmes this character flaw but it is interesting that the great Sherlock Holmes and Tony Montana have something in common.

I now see why my grandmother likes detective stories so much as they are short and fun (like this guy). However, I don't know if it should have been included on this list. There wasn't any real social commentary (other than bad guys get caught by good guys) and, unless the hound = the devil, symbolism wasn't prevalent. All-in-all a good read and I suppose a good book doesn't necessarily have to be an English teacher's wet dream to be effective.

Up next (after a short break for Harry Potter) will be sure to be a swash-buckling good time - The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas (# 98).

Addressing Racism, Party of Six

2007-07-07T08:15:00.000-07:00

#99 Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? directed by Stanley Kramer

This movie would be different if dinner was at his house.

Watching movies on tape often takes me back to childhood and watching Teen-Aged Mutant Ninja Turtles (the movie) in my friend's basement. Recently I've been time warped twice. The first came in the form of Weird Al's masterpiece UHF, featuring Michael Richards, Victoria Jackson and, most importantly, Emo Phillips.

More pertinent to this blog, though, is my viewing of Guess Who's Coming Dinner? Sydney Poitier - a black man if you didn't know - plays a black man in love with a white woman. Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy (in his last film) are the white broad's parents - the Draytons - and must meet this situation head-on in one day, as Poitier and the albino chick will be leaving for Geneva by the end of dinner. Poitier's parents come over too and antics ensue.

The film was thought-provoking, stirring and funny in many parts. Hepburn endears herself to me every time she speaks and won the 1967 Best Actress Oscar - although I personally feel she's more of a supporting one in this role. A scene where she fires her assistant for being a bigoted bitch stirs the viewer to fist-pump and give Hepburn a pound. *POUND

However there are a few drawbacks to this film. One is the situation itself. Poitier is an accomplished black man; he is a UN doctor on a humanitarian mission. Mr. Drayton himself is a famous San Francisco newspaper publisher known for his liberal views. So the question this movie posed wasn't whether the family's would accept this mixed marriage, so much as how society would view them. To better clarify my problem, I think this situation was unique and didn't accurately reflect a realistic problem. In an ideal world - as Tracy eventually concluded - this shouldn't be a problem and love is all you need.

Also, I think the movie patted itself on the back a little too much. Like "look we're maturely addressing racism, give us a gold star." I mean good for them, but there were way too many hokey monologues about the new generation being dragged down by the dying out old fogies. Poitier has a particularly dramatic altercation with his dad that's well done on his part, but so cornily written.

All-in-all, great flick; better on VHS. I didn't do it justice. For some reason this one was difficult to write about. Apologies to McGee cuz she loves this movie. Up next more Heburn in Bringing Up Baby (#97)

A Non-Review

2007-07-04T17:52:00.000-07:00

This post is for the world's benefit and stems from a comment made by Ms. Megan McGee. I erroneously stated that Cary Grant was in Gone with the Wind. In response to this, I will now better illustrate the difference between the two and other similar words than confuse me:

This is Cary Grant. He was NOT in GWTW. However, he did have a very successful career; you may remember that he played CK Dexter Haven in The Philadelphia Story, which we did at La Salle recently (John O'Riordan played him).

Here sits Clark Gable. He portrayed Rhett Butler. He has a fine mustache and was a different type of man-stud.

Furthermore, this is Brett Butler. She played the titled-role in Grace Under Fire - a semi-successful sitcom in the mid-90s. Her name sorta sounds like Rhett Butler; maybe that's where she got it from.

Comcast provides Cable. It is a service that transmits television programs to humans at a reasonably fixed price. Monk, Mind of Mencia and Baseball Tonight are features of it. Pat Rush doesn't have it.

Will Clark was a baseball player in the 1980s and 1990s. He played primarily for the San Francisco Giants and was the MVP of the National League Championship Series in 1989. His nickname was "The Thrill."

Lastly, here lies Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery. It is a novel and became like a mini-series. My grandmother likes it.

I hope this clarifies things a little. My next reviews should be coming out shortly.

A Mighty Wind is Coming

2007-06-28T11:14:00.000-07:00

#100 Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

I accuse Miss Scarlett in Georgia with the Southern drawl.

It's funny how a book longer than 1,000 pages can have such an abrupt ending. But Gone With the Wind somehow managed to find a way - andI loved every minute of it.

This novel may have been the most interesting thing I’ve ever read cuz it had everything - war, sex, adultery, chivalry, miscarriages, debauchery, the Ku Klux Klan and violent unexpected deaths. Margaret Mitchell only wrote one novel, so I suppose she had to squeeze everything into this one.

QUICK PLOT OUTLINE - Scarlett O’Hara is a spoiled brat daughter of a plantation owner living as a teenager right before the beginning of Civil War in Georgia. When the war strikes, her bubble of indifference is popped and she is forced to survive or be swept away with the rest of the dying South. GWTW follows her through three husbands (and children), the death of her parents, her fixation with Ashley Wilkes - the one that got away - and her obsession with money.

By the way, Rhett Butler doesn't say, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" in the book. The idea is there but it's altered for the film.

There are many, many different facets of this book that could easily be turned into thirty page papers, so I will briefly talk about three (No matter what I do this will probably still sound like I'm writing a high school English paper).

First, Scarlett is constantly criticized by her elders for aligning herself with Carpetbaggers and thus becoming a "scalawag." Scarlett is a self-serving bitch and Mitchell does a great job pointing that out (not often is the protagonist as less likable as Mrs. O'Hara-Hamilton-Kennedy-Butler), however, I'm not sure if I could blame her for this strike. In the time after the peace at Appomattox, Republicans from the North did everything in their power to lord themselves over the fallen former Confederacy - they got rid of all their workers (slaves, sure, but it still hurt their economy plenty), prevented almost all Confederates from voting - and therefore, all Democrats - as well as taxing everything mercilessly thus preventing the South to recover from Sherman's epic march of destruction - after reading this I can still see why some Southerners really HATE Northerners. Scarlett's idea was that she didn't want to be hungry and poor, so why not shack up with the people who could prevent this from happening? It was the general attitude of Southerns to resist any change they could, Scarlett embraced it by - reluctantly and through clenched teeth - doing business with the people. She's a survivor who didn't want to be poor like the rest of the South. Mentally, I think her battle was tougher than the those who waited for the South to rise again. She was progressive at least.

Another point is how awesome and dynamic the characters were. Rhett Butler - played by Cary Grant in the film - was the son-of-a-bitch conman who really had a heart of gold - or at least a heart. Serving as Scarlett's antagonist the entire book, he keeps her in check and reminds the reader on countless instances what a scoundrel she - like him - really is. Melanie Hamilton-Wilkes (her first husband's sister and wife of the man she pines for) is symbolic of unfledging loyalty (to the undeserving Scarlett) and proof that good exists in the world; furthermore, she is an example of good co-existing so beautifully with the evil that is Scarlett - a yin and a yang if you will. And Mammy, the O'Hara's faithful slave/nurse/keeper of the house is an interesting character. Sure, GWTW almost defends the institution of slavery time-and-time again, but I feel it really is trying to accurately illustrate the importance of slaves to the society on both a broad and narrow scope. Mammy is one of the family, what she says goes. No one is respected more in the household (after Scarlett's parents die) and all decisions have to eventually be O.K.'ed by her. She is a pillar of stability and her presence is vital to the furthering of almost all the O'Haras.

The book brings up a theme of regret, too. It's a little corny but to the point. Often, many words are left unsaid, and shortly after a tragedy occurs which prevents true sentiments from ever being fully disclosed. It happens most notably in Scarlett's relationship with Rhett Butler - she never lets him really know how much she cared until it is far too late; her bitchiness, pride and vanity would not budge enough to have a healthy marriage with the only man who really understood her. So, for all you kids out there, don't be a C-word and keep a tough exterior that prohibits those who love you from really helping you.

Well that's all the folksy wisdom I's got fer two-day. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? (#99) is the next movie and The Hound of the Baskervilles (#99) by Arthur Conan Doyle - he ain't my knight - will be the next novel.

Damn Yankees

2007-06-05T10:42:00.000-07:00

#100 Yankee Doodle Dandy directed by Michale Curtiz

Give my regards to Broadway, and to Calvin & Hobbes, as well.

Coming in next on AFI's glorious list (or last rather) is Yankee Doodle Dandy. Jimmy Cagney stars in this bio-pic of vaudeville and Broadway star George M. Cohan (Not Cohen).

If you don't like singin', dancin', or America-in' you won't like this one. Like Broadway and vaudeville this flick is way over the top, but it works for itself. The premise is a little weak, but probably true (Cohan tells his life story to FDR before receiving a congressional medal of honor). Also its a bit self-serving, as Cohan scripted the movie and executive produced it as well. Throw a bunch of flag wavin' "I want to hump America songs" in there and you got a big ol' can of corn.

However, it works. Cagney is amazing. Any chance he gets - like Cohan - he steals all attention. Watching him dance conjures of memories (although brief) of wanting to be a tap-dancer - I still think it'd be pretty cool. The chemistry with his family (real-life sister plays that role) and wife is staggering. Tears were in mine eye when his father dies (sorry to spoil that, but it is a bio-pic, dads get old and die).

Cohan is proud of his Irish heritage and worked the side-shows as a little leprechaun tap-dancer in the ol' days. It makes him look like a pretty paddy. Stereotypes are a plenty here as most African Americans aren't depicted in the best of lights. I guess that's just how movies were in the 1940s.

This movie doesn't pretend to be a real musical and annoy me, so that's nice. All the songs are done on stage, George isn't just eating dinner and randomly bursting into song, so I can appreciate that - more realistic.

There's one scene where George cons a slightly stupid German dude into producing a play he wrote that got me. I think I can always get behind the classic pulling one over off-the-boat-wealthy-German gag.

So YDD was good. I liked it better than Unforgiven.
---
UPDATE on Gone with the Wind -
This book is 1000 pages; so glad on started with a short one. I'm getting there though, so expect my expose on Scarlett O'Hara soon. I have a long train ride back from DC, so maybe I can bang it out then.

So I guess this wasn't that Oprah movie

2007-05-24T12:33:00.000-07:00

#98 Unforgiven directed by Clint Eastwood

It doesn't take Scoob and gang to realize Scrabby Doo always sucks.

Unforgiven (no. 98) is supposedly Clint Eastwood's masterpiece - or was in 1997 when AFI did its list. Eastwood stars in this "anti-western" with Morgan Freeman, Gene Hackman and Richard Harris. This won best picture and best director in 1992, among others.

Basic plot is a whore gets slashed in the face by some drunk cowboy and her fellow 'toots feel he isn't punished enough. So they raise some money and put a reward out to kill this mo-fo. Cue Eastwood, formerly a mo-fo himself, but now a timid, washed-out pig rancher. With his saint of a wife dead (the lady who reformed him of his evil ways), he feels he needs the money to support his young kids. So he, Freeman and some little shit ass-ed annoying Scrabby-Doo type go up to Wyoming to collect the heads and the cash. Mayhem ensues as Hackman is a mo-fo sheriff in his own right.

For me, Hackman really steals the show as Little Bill. Eastwood - though good - is boring at times and isn't nearly as bad-ass as he could be. Hackman kicks the shit out of several people and is not someone I ever want to fuck with. Ever. He definitely earned his best supporting actor nod in this one.

Harris aka Albus Dumbledore is only in two scenes but steals them as fast-talking Brit, "Cowboy Bill." Anyone who references the James Garfield assassination so much is a man after my own heart. However, I wish one of his scenes was more than Hackman kicking his ass.

I liked this movie and can see how it made this list (it must have been tough putting the last few on here). Often, though, I wonder how much some people are acting. Eastwood plays a cool, distant philosopher who has a pain he just can't describe; seems like I've seen it before. Same thing with Freeman as wise, ol' black man, and Harris as...well a British dude. I'm not making the point as clear as I would like to, it seems to me that sometimes famous actors get type-cast into awesome roles that they can easily play because the characters are often very similar to the actors themselves (Eastwood did direct this - and won best director - so, he kinda thought it was good for him).

Good start to my blog for me anyways.
---
(Backtracking)
100 - Yankee Doodle Dandy

In the beginning.....

2007-05-22T11:34:00.006-07:00

The Genesis of My Blog

"And God said to Sam 'Waste your time.'"

Hello world, I finally got roped into this blogging bit. My note on all this is that mine won't be personal, more of a commentary section. Specifically, my comments - on this blog - will be limited to two areas: books and films. Getting even more to the point: it is my goal to read TIME Magazine's 100 Greatest Novels and watch AFI's 100 Greatest Films. My opinions will be anything but expert. If I have already read the novel, then I'll look at a literary criticism or something; I'll watch the movies again....maybe not Citizen Kane, but if I get that far, why not?

I hope to elicit responses and maybe make people look at stuff they wouldn't before.

Either way, I'm in this game now.

UP FIRST

Novel - 100 - Gone With the Wind
Film - 98 - Unforgiven - (I reserved #100 and 99 on InterLibrary Loan....yeah Gloucester County Public Library Branches)