Although they have little in common, I find myself comparing this movie to On the Waterfront in my mind. The latter became known for Brando's virtuoso performance, and the former for it's maudlin sentiment. Nonetheless, in my mind, it is Jimmy Stewart's performance that stands out in my mind, and Brando's pales in comparison. Heresy? Perhaps, but as with most of my heresies, I stand by it.
And, of course, I cried. The movie was beautiful, flawless and I do not wonder that it is so widely considered a classic, or that so many people never tire of it (again, in contrast to Waterfront). I felt a personal resonance (perhaps the source of my praise) with Stewart's character, for he is what I imagine my paternal grandfather to have been like. I did not know Henry Payne well, but this is exactly what I picture, down tot he raging outbursts. I found myself feeling a retroactive sympathy for him, as he was never much of a sympathetic character in life. Both for artistic and sentimental reasons, therefore, I would watch this movie again. I do that so rarely, that you may consider it my version of an Academy Award.
Next up: Sunset Boulevard!
Friday, May 28, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Schindler's List
This movie, number 9 on AFI's list of 100 best American movies, made me think little about movie-making, and much about other things. As for it's place on the list, yes, I suppose I can agree with it. It's lovely at points, but merely serviceable in others, and occasionally lacks vision. It seems safe to say that its power comes largely from its topic and its startling treatment of that topic, rather than its masterfulness.
By which topic, I mean the single most important event of the twentieth century, the systematic mass murder of millions of people. Certainly there have been other genocides and mass murders--including that at Hiroshima, but none to my knowledge has been so mechanical, so calculating as what is commonly but incorrectly called The Holocaust. Any reflective human should take its mention as an opportunity to reflect on her or his own life. Is it really so astonishing? Or is it more astonishing for the ease with which it was perpetrated? Is it out of the realm of possibility to think that such a thing could happen again? By no means. Even the seemingly most liberal, evolved of nations are not immune to the power of group mentality. Even the seemingly most evolved humans are not immune. In Schindler's circumstnace, what would I have done? Would it have been to difficult? Would I have taken a stand? I would like to think so, but I am well aware of my ability to fall in with the thinking of my peers.
Were I to take a stand, and let's assume that I would, I am certain I would go about it differently. If the movie's portrayal is accurate (doubtful), Schindler's personality was ill-suited to the business of fighting. Emotional, impetuous, and occasionally silly, it is a wonder that he wasn't caught and executed long before doing any good. In my capacity as an armchair savior, I picture turning my heart completely off. So you want to rescue a particular person? Tough. One person is not more valuable than another; we are all God's children, of equal value in his eyes, and if would draw attention to our dangerous work, forget it. Mourn heartily. Also, no matter that you are uncomfortable. Suffer and live, or whine and die. Your choice.
The question is, would this work? In life, I care about people's welfare, not their feelings. I will do what is in the common interest, and think what you will. It's not pleasant. Perhaps I could learn a thing from Oskar Schindler. Can one do a large good and still worry about small kindnesses?
By which topic, I mean the single most important event of the twentieth century, the systematic mass murder of millions of people. Certainly there have been other genocides and mass murders--including that at Hiroshima, but none to my knowledge has been so mechanical, so calculating as what is commonly but incorrectly called The Holocaust. Any reflective human should take its mention as an opportunity to reflect on her or his own life. Is it really so astonishing? Or is it more astonishing for the ease with which it was perpetrated? Is it out of the realm of possibility to think that such a thing could happen again? By no means. Even the seemingly most liberal, evolved of nations are not immune to the power of group mentality. Even the seemingly most evolved humans are not immune. In Schindler's circumstnace, what would I have done? Would it have been to difficult? Would I have taken a stand? I would like to think so, but I am well aware of my ability to fall in with the thinking of my peers.
Were I to take a stand, and let's assume that I would, I am certain I would go about it differently. If the movie's portrayal is accurate (doubtful), Schindler's personality was ill-suited to the business of fighting. Emotional, impetuous, and occasionally silly, it is a wonder that he wasn't caught and executed long before doing any good. In my capacity as an armchair savior, I picture turning my heart completely off. So you want to rescue a particular person? Tough. One person is not more valuable than another; we are all God's children, of equal value in his eyes, and if would draw attention to our dangerous work, forget it. Mourn heartily. Also, no matter that you are uncomfortable. Suffer and live, or whine and die. Your choice.
The question is, would this work? In life, I care about people's welfare, not their feelings. I will do what is in the common interest, and think what you will. It's not pleasant. Perhaps I could learn a thing from Oskar Schindler. Can one do a large good and still worry about small kindnesses?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
On The Waterfront
The natural conversation to come out of an analysis of the AFI's 100 greatest American movies is one about what makes a movie great--but the question is grammatically vague. Is the question what about a movie makes it great? Or what magical thing, in the creation of a movie, results in greatness, in legendary status?
In On the Waterfront, the answer to the first question is obvious. First, and most unanimously, is Brando's performance. It is not my favorite performance of his--which may be Streetcar or Guys and Dolls--but it is a believable and reflective one, with a much-deserved reputation. The answer to the second question, which might be more accurately phrased, "where did the greatness come from?", is clearly the director. Kazan brought sensitivity and subtlety to what could have easily been a maudlin melodrama. His hand is usually invisible, as it usually with directors whose charm lay in their subtlety, but it is the director alone that is responsible for the treatment of the scene where Brando reveals to Eva Marie Saint his role in her brother's death. The power of that scene all lay in the placement of the camera, the sound, the creative way that Kazan makes the audience an outsider to the entire thing. Brando has little power here.
The question, "What makes a movie great?" is only incompletely answered by Waterfront, however. Although there is greatness in a movie, I can't say that I consider it great, in the sense that AFI is meaning. If not an answer, though, that is at least part of an answer: if we don't quite know what makes a movie great--in either sense of the question--at least we know that the presence of greatness is not enough.
In On the Waterfront, the answer to the first question is obvious. First, and most unanimously, is Brando's performance. It is not my favorite performance of his--which may be Streetcar or Guys and Dolls--but it is a believable and reflective one, with a much-deserved reputation. The answer to the second question, which might be more accurately phrased, "where did the greatness come from?", is clearly the director. Kazan brought sensitivity and subtlety to what could have easily been a maudlin melodrama. His hand is usually invisible, as it usually with directors whose charm lay in their subtlety, but it is the director alone that is responsible for the treatment of the scene where Brando reveals to Eva Marie Saint his role in her brother's death. The power of that scene all lay in the placement of the camera, the sound, the creative way that Kazan makes the audience an outsider to the entire thing. Brando has little power here.
The question, "What makes a movie great?" is only incompletely answered by Waterfront, however. Although there is greatness in a movie, I can't say that I consider it great, in the sense that AFI is meaning. If not an answer, though, that is at least part of an answer: if we don't quite know what makes a movie great--in either sense of the question--at least we know that the presence of greatness is not enough.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Liveblogging the Bible: Romans
1:1 Why is Paul writing this? It seems that he wasn't quite aware of the Roman congregation until he was in Rome--and then never to leave.
1:5 Is he referring to himself in the plural here? Obviously, his audience has not received the gift of apostleship.
1:7 As in many of his live performances, Paul begins with a bit of flattery. Was it common practice to refer to each other as saints? No doubt the word had different connotations, because to refer to someone in earnest this way today would be quite an act of hubris, let alone to refer to oneself this way.
1:11 What sort of gift? Any gift of knowledge could be imparted through a letter, so he must be referring to some more tangible, metaphysical act. Which indicates that physical presence is useful for such a thing, even to Paul.
1:16 His forthrightness must have been in question for him to make such an obvious statement. Which alerts me to lookout for other examples of Paul defending himself in this letter.
1:18 Again, this seems to indicate what is going on behind the scenes in Rome. Such a claim would seem out of place, especially in an introduction, if there were not specific examples going on.
1:19 This would be a nice theology of itself. "What can be known about God is plain". No special revelation is necessary for complete understanding.
1:20 Who is the "they" whom Paul lambasts here?
1:26 What is unnatural intercourse for a woman? Sex out of marriage may be considered quite natural for a biological human. Could he be referring to anal or oral sex?
1:27 As staunchly as some gay theologians try to spin this, it's pretty incontrovertible that Paul was homophobic.
1:32 Who is They? This verse seems to indicate the Jews, but it is certainly not clear.
2:1 This makes it even more curious. The "they" is now a "you", and a "whoever you are" to boot. Is it possible that Paul is referring to someone particular, rather than a group of people or a sort of person, and that his audience would know exactly whom he means?
The sentiment in the verse is also finding particular resonance with me this week. I have a terrible judgment addiction. Whenever I take a Meyer's Briggs test, I invariably come out on the far "J" side of the scale. It's my nature, I like black and white divisions. One is either on time, or one is not, and yes, it does matter. The job is either finished, or it is not etc.. This becomes a troubling trait when applied to person, however. People are invariably and wholly made up of gray areas. They cannot be judged, by other people at least, and certainly not according to any criteria I could come up with. Why then do I struggle so to withhold judgement from my fellow man?
2:7 What about those who, by patiently doing good seek, not for glory and honor and immortality, but simply to do good? Any theology that glory and honor for goodness is suspect in my book.
2:9-11 This is an interesting statement. "There will be anguish and distress for everyone who does evil, the Jew first and also the Greek." Why the Jew first? This seems to contradict his next statement: "for God shows no partiality".
2:12 So, by Paul's theology, could a Jew who is under the Law could be judged just as righteous as a Christian--if that Jew follows the Law to the same extent that the Christian follows his law? that seems a stretch, but it's an interesting question.
2:14 But what about when the Gentiles do not do what the law requires, that is to say, what of those parts of the law that are not obvious? Is it possible that Paul is not talking about the Mosaic law at all here? It would seem out of place for him to refer to Christian principles as "the law", when that term evokes a very different set of laws in the minds of his audience.
2:17 The tone Paul takes here definitely lends credence to the idea that he has a specific person in mind.
2:26 This logic is tenuous, but Paul is jumping through verbal hoops anyway. It's as if to say, "Your idea is so ridiculous, that here's another ridiculous idea to put in your pipe."
2:29 Whomever Paul is trying to discredit/shame here, he (or she, I supose, but that seems less likely) is clearly of the camp mentioned in Acts that raised controversy over circumcision.
3:2 What? This promises to be a curious line of reasoning.
3:6 Not exactly sound reasoning, for he speaks on the assumption that God is fit to judge the world.
3:30 This is the first thing that Paul says in this chapter that I can make any sense out of. He does so many somersaults, so many reversals of position and leaps of logic, that I cannot keep it straight. A few possibilities: he is simply dictating off the cuff, he is trying to overawe his audience with logical legerdemain, this makes sense in some bizarre way. Let us try to track his train of thought:
4:1 Paul is clearly continuing with this line of logic in this chapter
4:2 Now this is actually a strong point. Those who are arguing that the Law/works are the path to "boasting" which seems to be used as a synonym for righteousness might well draw upon Abraham to support their claim. Here Paul conscripts Abraham into his own army.
4:10 Again, flawless logic. It's a pity that Paul went through the mess in chapter 3 to get here.
4:15 This is Paul's real difficulty. If there is no law, then do whatever the hell you want, as long as you have "faith". It remains to be seen whether he successfully resolves it.
4:25 Verdict: not proven (not yet at least).
5:1 The question of whether being "justified by faith" really requires anything of one remains unanswered.
5:2 When Paul first raised the topic of boasting, I expected him to renounce it. He seems rather to be chasing it.
5:9-10 Paul's point, or rather his attempted intensification of his point, seems tenuous here. He seems to be saying "since we were saved while sinners, now that we are saved we are doubly saved". This sounds great, but has no meaning.
5:12 perhaps it is just a trick of translation, but this is definitely a dangling modifier. "For just as sin came into the world through one man" etc. Never gets a "So too has . . ." to finish off the thought. Just as _____ needs a so too ______ in order to have any meaning.
5:17 I'm still irritated by Paul's seemingly meaningless use of "much more surely" Here, as in 9-10, it has no meaning, no object.
In short, Paul clearly has something meaningful to say, but it does not seem clear yet--perhaps even to him--what that is. It certainly could not ever be clear enough to be above dispute.
6:1 Paul is setting up a straw man here for the logical refutation of his argument--one that I find myself making regularly. If salvation is assured, why bother with virtue?
6:11 His argument doesn't seem quite watertight, though. He reasons that, since our sins died with Christ, our lives belong to him/God. That presupposes good faith (in the legal sense) on the party of the second part, though. There still seems to be a loophole in the contract . . .
6:15 He raises the question again--tacitly acknowledging that he hasn't really answered it.
6:17 Thank goodness you are acting in good faith, in other words--that you haven't taken advantage of the loophole.
6:23 But are the wages of sin still death after one has been "saved"? Paul had better hope not!
7:1 Wait, I thought the law was not binding at all anymore! Paul here betrays his solicitude of Jewish Romans.
7:4 Or he's just using it as a metaphor. That was really quite slick, actually! Not a real sound analogy, but slick nonetheless.
7:7 Sin is almost an agency here. Paul seems to be getting carried away--but it is no doubt calculated.
7:15 Paul is deft here, and at the same time quite sincere. The feeling of helplessness before this mysterious agency "sin" is familiar to me. To Paul, Sin is a wily adversary. In v. 8 here It takes advantage of the law to make a sinner out of its victims. I once believed similarly--I felt like a marionette, a victim of some force that made me do terrible things. I realize now that the force was not sin, but simply unconsciousness--blindly following urges and saying "lalala I can't hear you!" Quite an elegant verse.
7:20 And here Paul distances himself from that agency, as though it was not part of himself.
7:21 A playful, but potentially confusing, use of "law" here
7:23 and here confusing in the extreme. 4 different laws? Or only two?
7:25 And where does this leave us but in a moral quandary? A fun one though . . .
8:3 This is a rather elegant answer to the charge that if there is no condemnation in spirit, one might as well do as one pleases. The spirit is indeed uncondemnable, a law which one can only take advantage of by living in spirit.
8:19 This is an interesting turn of phrase: the revealing of the children of God. What would such a revealing entail?
8:22 Evidently he means revealing in the sense of being born.
8:29 No doubt a difficult theological passage. If those whom God has called are predetermined, why evangelize? Simply to awaken, or reveal them?
8:37-39 And a nice flourish of poetry to end the thread.
1:5 Is he referring to himself in the plural here? Obviously, his audience has not received the gift of apostleship.
1:7 As in many of his live performances, Paul begins with a bit of flattery. Was it common practice to refer to each other as saints? No doubt the word had different connotations, because to refer to someone in earnest this way today would be quite an act of hubris, let alone to refer to oneself this way.
1:11 What sort of gift? Any gift of knowledge could be imparted through a letter, so he must be referring to some more tangible, metaphysical act. Which indicates that physical presence is useful for such a thing, even to Paul.
1:16 His forthrightness must have been in question for him to make such an obvious statement. Which alerts me to lookout for other examples of Paul defending himself in this letter.
1:18 Again, this seems to indicate what is going on behind the scenes in Rome. Such a claim would seem out of place, especially in an introduction, if there were not specific examples going on.
1:19 This would be a nice theology of itself. "What can be known about God is plain". No special revelation is necessary for complete understanding.
1:20 Who is the "they" whom Paul lambasts here?
1:26 What is unnatural intercourse for a woman? Sex out of marriage may be considered quite natural for a biological human. Could he be referring to anal or oral sex?
1:27 As staunchly as some gay theologians try to spin this, it's pretty incontrovertible that Paul was homophobic.
1:32 Who is They? This verse seems to indicate the Jews, but it is certainly not clear.
2:1 This makes it even more curious. The "they" is now a "you", and a "whoever you are" to boot. Is it possible that Paul is referring to someone particular, rather than a group of people or a sort of person, and that his audience would know exactly whom he means?
The sentiment in the verse is also finding particular resonance with me this week. I have a terrible judgment addiction. Whenever I take a Meyer's Briggs test, I invariably come out on the far "J" side of the scale. It's my nature, I like black and white divisions. One is either on time, or one is not, and yes, it does matter. The job is either finished, or it is not etc.. This becomes a troubling trait when applied to person, however. People are invariably and wholly made up of gray areas. They cannot be judged, by other people at least, and certainly not according to any criteria I could come up with. Why then do I struggle so to withhold judgement from my fellow man?
2:7 What about those who, by patiently doing good seek, not for glory and honor and immortality, but simply to do good? Any theology that glory and honor for goodness is suspect in my book.
2:9-11 This is an interesting statement. "There will be anguish and distress for everyone who does evil, the Jew first and also the Greek." Why the Jew first? This seems to contradict his next statement: "for God shows no partiality".
2:12 So, by Paul's theology, could a Jew who is under the Law could be judged just as righteous as a Christian--if that Jew follows the Law to the same extent that the Christian follows his law? that seems a stretch, but it's an interesting question.
2:14 But what about when the Gentiles do not do what the law requires, that is to say, what of those parts of the law that are not obvious? Is it possible that Paul is not talking about the Mosaic law at all here? It would seem out of place for him to refer to Christian principles as "the law", when that term evokes a very different set of laws in the minds of his audience.
2:17 The tone Paul takes here definitely lends credence to the idea that he has a specific person in mind.
2:26 This logic is tenuous, but Paul is jumping through verbal hoops anyway. It's as if to say, "Your idea is so ridiculous, that here's another ridiculous idea to put in your pipe."
2:29 Whomever Paul is trying to discredit/shame here, he (or she, I supose, but that seems less likely) is clearly of the camp mentioned in Acts that raised controversy over circumcision.
3:2 What? This promises to be a curious line of reasoning.
3:6 Not exactly sound reasoning, for he speaks on the assumption that God is fit to judge the world.
3:30 This is the first thing that Paul says in this chapter that I can make any sense out of. He does so many somersaults, so many reversals of position and leaps of logic, that I cannot keep it straight. A few possibilities: he is simply dictating off the cuff, he is trying to overawe his audience with logical legerdemain, this makes sense in some bizarre way. Let us try to track his train of thought:
- 2-4 The fact that the Jews did not keep the law is not a refutation of that law, but (in some unexplained leap to verse 5) a vindication of it. This point seems unproven, and that verbal trick may be the foundation for the silliness that follows.
- 6-8 seem to be a logical dead end. It is not clear whether Paul is making this first claim to undermine those who say "Let us do evil so that good may come", or whether he is honestly offering that his falsehood vindicates God's truthfulness.
- 9 We are certainly not better of than when we began this chapter (a cheap dig, sorry). Who is we? Is Paul aligning himself with the Jews or the Greeks here, as he has a claim to both. Or as a Roman? That would also be a supportable position. He is indeed all things to all men. In any case, this is a reversal of what he said in 2-4.
- 19-20 This seems to indicate that the law is a mean trick, an impossible task set up to highlight man's imperfection-which is a nice setup to the claim that the law has been supplanted in verses 21-26.
- 27-31 This is a new strand, and the connection is hard to pin down. Whence came the topic of boasting? The Jew's law--a law of works--seemed to allow for boasting (although that is a straw argument, quickly smashed by Paul in verse 9), but the law of faith allows for no such thing.
4:1 Paul is clearly continuing with this line of logic in this chapter
4:2 Now this is actually a strong point. Those who are arguing that the Law/works are the path to "boasting" which seems to be used as a synonym for righteousness might well draw upon Abraham to support their claim. Here Paul conscripts Abraham into his own army.
4:10 Again, flawless logic. It's a pity that Paul went through the mess in chapter 3 to get here.
4:15 This is Paul's real difficulty. If there is no law, then do whatever the hell you want, as long as you have "faith". It remains to be seen whether he successfully resolves it.
4:25 Verdict: not proven (not yet at least).
5:1 The question of whether being "justified by faith" really requires anything of one remains unanswered.
5:2 When Paul first raised the topic of boasting, I expected him to renounce it. He seems rather to be chasing it.
5:9-10 Paul's point, or rather his attempted intensification of his point, seems tenuous here. He seems to be saying "since we were saved while sinners, now that we are saved we are doubly saved". This sounds great, but has no meaning.
5:12 perhaps it is just a trick of translation, but this is definitely a dangling modifier. "For just as sin came into the world through one man" etc. Never gets a "So too has . . ." to finish off the thought. Just as _____ needs a so too ______ in order to have any meaning.
5:17 I'm still irritated by Paul's seemingly meaningless use of "much more surely" Here, as in 9-10, it has no meaning, no object.
In short, Paul clearly has something meaningful to say, but it does not seem clear yet--perhaps even to him--what that is. It certainly could not ever be clear enough to be above dispute.
6:1 Paul is setting up a straw man here for the logical refutation of his argument--one that I find myself making regularly. If salvation is assured, why bother with virtue?
6:11 His argument doesn't seem quite watertight, though. He reasons that, since our sins died with Christ, our lives belong to him/God. That presupposes good faith (in the legal sense) on the party of the second part, though. There still seems to be a loophole in the contract . . .
6:15 He raises the question again--tacitly acknowledging that he hasn't really answered it.
6:17 Thank goodness you are acting in good faith, in other words--that you haven't taken advantage of the loophole.
6:23 But are the wages of sin still death after one has been "saved"? Paul had better hope not!
7:1 Wait, I thought the law was not binding at all anymore! Paul here betrays his solicitude of Jewish Romans.
7:4 Or he's just using it as a metaphor. That was really quite slick, actually! Not a real sound analogy, but slick nonetheless.
7:7 Sin is almost an agency here. Paul seems to be getting carried away--but it is no doubt calculated.
7:15 Paul is deft here, and at the same time quite sincere. The feeling of helplessness before this mysterious agency "sin" is familiar to me. To Paul, Sin is a wily adversary. In v. 8 here It takes advantage of the law to make a sinner out of its victims. I once believed similarly--I felt like a marionette, a victim of some force that made me do terrible things. I realize now that the force was not sin, but simply unconsciousness--blindly following urges and saying "lalala I can't hear you!" Quite an elegant verse.
7:20 And here Paul distances himself from that agency, as though it was not part of himself.
7:21 A playful, but potentially confusing, use of "law" here
7:23 and here confusing in the extreme. 4 different laws? Or only two?
7:25 And where does this leave us but in a moral quandary? A fun one though . . .
8:3 This is a rather elegant answer to the charge that if there is no condemnation in spirit, one might as well do as one pleases. The spirit is indeed uncondemnable, a law which one can only take advantage of by living in spirit.
8:19 This is an interesting turn of phrase: the revealing of the children of God. What would such a revealing entail?
8:22 Evidently he means revealing in the sense of being born.
8:29 No doubt a difficult theological passage. If those whom God has called are predetermined, why evangelize? Simply to awaken, or reveal them?
8:37-39 And a nice flourish of poetry to end the thread.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Francois Villon: Poems
Seldom does Philip Ward lead me wrong, but this was not a book from which I took much. It is probably through no fault of the author, but two things conspire to make Villon's meaning inaccessible to me: its being written in Middle French, and it's constant reference to petty personal matters that no modern person, no matter how scholarly, could have reference to. It seems fair to say that the allure of Villon is in his biography, rather than in his poetry. The character of a robber/poet, a true mountebank, is seductive, and one would almost tend to like the poems sight unseen, solely on the excitement of the author. The Testament especially was entirely inscrutable, but I enjoyed reading a few examples of the mock will, a form of poetry I had not encountered before. A few of the Ballades struck me, and I found them to be a remarkably effective use of refrain as a literary device. One of my favorites:
I know flies in milk
I know the man by his clothes
I know fair weather from foul
I know the apple by the tree
I know the tree when I see the sap
I know when all is one
I know who labors and loafs
I know everything but myself.
Villon seemingly refers to this sparingly layered poem later in another that touched my fancy:
You don't know a thing--Yes I do--What?--Flies in milk
One's white, one's black, they're opposites--
That's all?--how can I say it better?
If that doesn't suit you I'll start over--
You're lost-Well I'll go down fighting--
I've nothing more to tell you--I'll survive without it.
Framed as an argument between Villon and his own heart, this poem is nicely reflective of the earlier sentiment: he knows many things--most of which have to do with drawing distinctions, or using the left brain--but knows little of such right-brain activities as self-reflection. His style, most pointedly in this Ballade, reminds me of Mayakovksy's, especially in An Extraordinary Adventure. That Villon was attempting this sort of conceptually sophisticated poetry more than 400 years before Mayakovsky is testament to his power as a poet. It's a pity that much of the pith seems to have been lost with time.
I know flies in milk
I know the man by his clothes
I know fair weather from foul
I know the apple by the tree
I know the tree when I see the sap
I know when all is one
I know who labors and loafs
I know everything but myself.
Villon seemingly refers to this sparingly layered poem later in another that touched my fancy:
You don't know a thing--Yes I do--What?--Flies in milk
One's white, one's black, they're opposites--
That's all?--how can I say it better?
If that doesn't suit you I'll start over--
You're lost-Well I'll go down fighting--
I've nothing more to tell you--I'll survive without it.
Framed as an argument between Villon and his own heart, this poem is nicely reflective of the earlier sentiment: he knows many things--most of which have to do with drawing distinctions, or using the left brain--but knows little of such right-brain activities as self-reflection. His style, most pointedly in this Ballade, reminds me of Mayakovksy's, especially in An Extraordinary Adventure. That Villon was attempting this sort of conceptually sophisticated poetry more than 400 years before Mayakovsky is testament to his power as a poet. It's a pity that much of the pith seems to have been lost with time.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Lawrence of Arabia
I really need to be more careful what I read and watch. Watching this while reading The Awakening has had an effect on my mood, to be sure. Ward's Lifetime of Reading has an advantage over the AFIs 100 Best American Films list, in that not all of them are ponderous. So far all of the films have been of the sort that make one stagger--at the expense if nothing else. Lawrence of Arabia was one such, and it's impact on me was intensified by its root in reality. That this extraordinary man really existed is really rather astonishing, and the film did an admirable job of capturing that. Still, as impressive as the acting, cinematography and the sheer scope of the project were, it is the story that is most affecting. I am not sure whether I should even read Lawrence's autobiography now (but I probably will). I take some comfort at least in the fact that this man, as enviable as he may have been at one point, was driven quite mad and unhappy by his enviability. Although I wanted to be him at once, by the end of the movie I was grateful for my own small, satisfying life.
Kate Chopin: The Awakening and Other Stories
I have a growing perception that my approach to literary criticism is embarrassingly old fashioned. What I have to say about this book is no doubt going to sound suspiciously like an undergraduate essay. Any self respecting deconstructionist would no doubt berate me for my tight, sensible readings of texts, but I can't help myself. Every text holds two stories: the one the author intended, and the one we make up about it. All we ever truly read is the latter, which would be lamentable if it were not unavoidable.
The selections from each of Chopin's short story collections lend themselves especially well to a simple, obvious analysis. The selections from Bayou Folk have an obvious common theme, that of longing for what belongs to another. Likewise, the selections from A Night in Acadie share a theme, that of unexpectedly liking that which one might not be expected to--either by society or by the reader. It is tempting to observe that The Awakening takes both of these themes, and turns them nicely into one: longing for what is unexpected. If I were an undergraduate still, and struggling to find a topic, this would be it.
But I am not. As tempting as it is to make a case for that reading--and a case could be made--I choose not to. In fact, I choose not to make any reading at all, but rather to observe that The Awakening is a very nearly perfect account of its eponymous topic, and one akin to my own experience. I found every moment believable, and that shall be enough.
BTD 10
The selections from each of Chopin's short story collections lend themselves especially well to a simple, obvious analysis. The selections from Bayou Folk have an obvious common theme, that of longing for what belongs to another. Likewise, the selections from A Night in Acadie share a theme, that of unexpectedly liking that which one might not be expected to--either by society or by the reader. It is tempting to observe that The Awakening takes both of these themes, and turns them nicely into one: longing for what is unexpected. If I were an undergraduate still, and struggling to find a topic, this would be it.
But I am not. As tempting as it is to make a case for that reading--and a case could be made--I choose not to. In fact, I choose not to make any reading at all, but rather to observe that The Awakening is a very nearly perfect account of its eponymous topic, and one akin to my own experience. I found every moment believable, and that shall be enough.
BTD 10
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