Rolling Stone - Issue 1110 (August 5, 2010)

Cover – Leonardo DiCaprio – “Hanging with Leo”

The cover article about Leonardo DiCaprio, by Brian Hyatt, was well put together without necessarily breaking any new ground as journalism. Hyatt manages to outline the daily life of the actor – far from typical or routine – without gushing about his celebrity status. The piece also includes a little background information about DiCaprio’s career, as well as discussing what keeps him relevant in the film industry (mainly, being Martin Scorsese’s new golden boy).

Considering the great pieces they’ve put out so far, I was very disappointed in this issue’s “National Affairs” article. Tim Dickinson’s coverage of the Obama administration’s failure to pass an effective climate control bill felt very forced and hollow, lacking any meaningful detail. It almost read like a piece that had been written earlier, with a few names and dates filled in to fit the occasion.

This is especially evident compared to Jeff Goodell’s article “The Poisoning,” which is much better journalism. Goodell’s article explains how BP, in the wake of the Deepwater Horizon disaster, chose the cheapest method of breaking up the oil – chemical dispersants. This choice was made regardless of the fact that the dispersants do not actually clean up the oil, but merely break it into separate chemicals which are just as dangerous to the ocean’s ecosystems as the oil itself. The article reveals that although the oil may be disappearing from view, the effects of the oil will be long-term and devastating.

Other articles (this was an especially feature-rich issue, for some reason) included a nice piece on M.I.A.’s career and a background piece on the personal histories of the “people” on MTV’s “Jersey Shore.” (I put “people” in quotations because it was surprising to see how many of them are college educated – one with a degree in business marketing – which makes me suspicious about how much of their personalities are really personas.)

The Reviews section was short and weak, with the new Arcade Fire album “The Suburbs” getting one of the best reviews while Bret Michaels’s “Custom Built” got one of the worst.

Poor People

The heart of William T. Vollmann’s 2007 book on world-wide poverty is a simple question: “Why are you poor?” Yet the simplicity of most of the answers that he received from impoverished people throughout the world allowed him to write this reflection on the nature of poverty. At times powerful and depressing, this book exposes life under the poverty line all over the world and the reality of what it means to live, as Adam Smith declared, not being able to “afford to enjoy the necessaries, conveniences, and amusements of human life.”

Vollmann neatly breaks apart this longer philosophical work into several categories into which all of the chapters fit (with each chapter being, essentially, an individual essay or reflection), and so that is how I will break apart my discussion of his work.

In the first section, “Self-Defintions,” Vollmann provides us first with definitions which provide us the ability to discuss poverty, given that poverty itself exists as a somewhat abstract (if, at the same time, completely tangible) idea within the complex social-structure that is humanity. From here, he begins to paint us several portraits of poverty all over the world, from the drunk Sunee in Thailand to two beggar women in Russia (including their clearly disabled families) to two Japanese men who live under a bridge in Kyoto. These portraits are sometimes touching, sometimes disturbing, always interesting. From these sketches, Vollmann clearly reveals that poverty is not the same everywhere for everyone, including how the people came to poverty and even if the people consider themselves poor.

From here, Vollmann moves into his second section, “Phenomena,” in which he describes aspects of poverty evident at different levels in all poor people. These phenomena are invisibility, deformity, unwantedness, dependence, accident-prone-ness, pain, numbness, and estrangement. The most personally striking section is his explanation of how impoverished people everywhere suffer from invisibility, even though their suffering is evident. (Personally, it reminds me of the often deep poverty in which some of my students in Lynwood existed, though my ignorance often blinded me into denial of their circumstances.) Think about it – aren’t there parts of your own town, the poor part of town, that you won’t go? Through not driving through “skid row,” you have rendered those who live there invisible.

The third section, “Choices,” reveals choices which are not truly choices that the truly impoverished must live through in the attempt to escape poverty. He discusses the economic “amoritization” of labor to pay for freedom from poor circumstances, most often through prostitution, but sometimes through darker-than-mafia groups arranging marriages for visas at a massive human cost. Some, such as those in an oil town in Kazahkhstan sacrifice the poisoning of their health for new, nicer roads brought in by the American oil money.

Of course, Vollmann also touches on the “Hopes” that keep those who are in poverty use to keep surviving despite all of the odds being stacked against them. This hope of removal from poverty is most evident in the person of Gary, who gambles nightly on a lottery drawing that he knows is rigged. This hope also exists in the poor community which cleans its own toilet (really, a bowl) without any set outline of responsibility or consequences.

In the last section, “Placeholders,” Vollmann discusses his own personal feelings and experiences with poverty in proximity to his home. Most interesting, to me, was how he compassionately he interacts with the poor who vandalize his property, while, counter intuitively, he fears for the safety of himself and his property. Ultimately, Vollmann leaves us with no single answer or solution, aside from a reference to the pathetic United Nations call for “more aid, better directed.”

Aside from the hollow feeling left by the lack of any sort of positive resolution (and what did I really expect from a book titled “Poor People”), this book is fantastic. It effectively examines and reflects upon poverty through several lenses – statistics, science and psychology, personal experiences, and the visual. The use of photographs of most of those interviewed (except those who feared reprisal from authorities) makes every scene more vivid and powerful. Yet, at no point do Vollmann’s words request guilt or acceptance of blame from the reader. Instead, the book calls the reader to search his or her own soul and to examine his or her own thoughts and feelings about poverty. And, as such a thought provoking book, it is one of the best pieces of non-fiction I’ve ever read.

The Kids Are All Right

Nic and Jules (Annette Benning and Julianne Moore, respectively) are a happy lesbian couple with two beautiful children, Joni (Mia Wasikowska) and Laser (Josh Hutcherson). Without telling their moms, the children reach out to their sperm-donor father Paul (Mark Ruffalo). But, as Paul becomes more involved in their lives, the nuclear family begins to fall apart. Paul unwittingly sets each family member against each other, exposing holes in the family’s framework. With Joni about to move away from home for college, time winds down for the family to work out their problems and come to terms with who they are as individuals as well as with their place within the family.

To begin, all of the actors in this movie were fantastic. But Mark Ruffalo deserves a special mention because his character was so well fleshed out and believable. Ruffalo made us believe that Paul got caught up in his own ego, trying to be the father that he would never actually be. Yet, very subtly, Ruffalo had set us up to realize that Paul lived merely for the moment, with no real thought. And when things fall apart for him by the end, he effectively evokes pity without sympathy – especially with a well-timed quaver in his voice and eyes pleading for help.

This film impressed me because it did not use the lesbian relationship – so central to the story – to overpower the fact that it is ultimately about the meaning of family. The filmmakers could have used that very relevant feature of the story for some heavy-handed shock-and-awe effects. Instead, they chose to simply treat it like any other marriage – dropping the viewers into the middle of it without much exposition, which I believed helped the film overall. The viewers weren’t given an opportunity to develop any opposition to the nature of Jules and Nic’s relationship. Rather, most (though, admittedly, not all) of the strain in their marriage could have been taken out of a heterosexual marriage counseling session, and so the homosexual nature of their marriage was merely an aside or footnote, not the text of the story.

I must say that I loved this movie until the last five minutes or so. In fact, if I put this movie together, I would have ended it with the sequence of the family in the car, with each member looking briefly at the others and then out the window. Instead, the movie ends with a scene that reinforces the theme without adding to it, with one character almost directly stating the moral of the story. I can’t stand it when endings like this are so obviously tacked on to pander to those viewers who can’t wrap their heads around where the characters might be going – those who lack to ability to make informed inferences about what the characters will do beyond the ending based on the actions and dialogue of the characters up to that point. It’s almost as if these people – whoever they are – never grew beyond the fairy tale in which they have to be told that everyone lives “happily ever after.” I personally would have preferred an ending with a little ambiguity because it would have stimulated more discussion. The way it ended, nothing was left unanswered leaving no room for thinking.

Directed by: Lisa Cholodenko

Written by: Lisa Cholodenko and Stuart Blumberg

The Believer - Seventy-First Issue: Odradek (May 2010)

I’ve got a bit of catching up to do on “The Believer,” both in terms of “reading of” the magazine and “writing about” the magazine. So, let’s get down to brass tacks.

Highlights included:

Stephen Phelan’s “Ninjas I Have Known” discusses how, exactly, one might go about becoming a ninja. Phelan discusses this process despite openly comparing ninjas in Japan to Robin Hood of England – more folk myth than true story. Yet, because there is such a demand for ninja paraphernalia, a rich fake-cultural market for ninjas exists.

“A Glimpse of the Unplumbed Depths” discusses Annie Julia Wyman’s interest in an anachronistic book of literary theory. Perhaps the most charming article in the issue, Wyman’s writing is witty enough to stay light while at the same time discussing complex issues of the depths of knowledge and the potential to ever know all there is to know about a specific subject.

The Believer interview with Daniel Clowes – underground comics legend and creator of “Ghost World” – was thoroughly enjoyable. I was surprised (though I probably shouldn’t have been) at how artistically and intellectually he was able to discuss the comics industry.

Weak points included:

Lev Grossman’s “The Death of a Civil Servant” discusses how Leonard Woolf (eventual husband of modernism pioneer Virginia Woolf) met up in Ceylon with another British man who wrote early fantasy fiction. The article would have been good, despite its massive length, if it didn’t feel so darned long.

In “A Sunburst Above a Receding Road: How I Ruined Lolita for Myself,” Namwali Serpell parallels her repeated readings of the book with the different phases of her love life. Although well-written, the main idea behind it – interpretations of a book changing with life experiences – isn’t terribly original, and so the whole thing rang just a bit hollow by the end.

Other notes:

I was happy that Nick Hornby returned to his “Stuff I’ve Been Reading” column, but the column itself did not totally live up to my expectations.

Maureen Howard’s conversation with Joanna Scott was completely incomprehensible to me. I literally have no context for either author or the cultural capital to know half of what they were talking about.

The Endless Summer

Despite living in Southern California, surrounded by the surfer dude culture, I’d never managed to see this 1966 documentary until now. The film traces the story of two surfers – Mike Hynson and Robert August – as they chase the summer season around the world searching for the best waves. They start in Hawaii and California, where we the viewers are given a brief tutorial on the techniques and jargon of surfing, until the oceans start getting too cold. They travel off to the eastern coast of Africa, where they introduce surfing to the “natives” (characterized in 1966 in ways that would not be PC now). Eventually they make their way down to South Africa, riding waves on pristine secluded beaches that may never have been surfed before. They are sorely disappointed to find poor surf in Australia and New Zealand, only to surf in Tahiti where they were told the reefs prevented any true waves. Eventually, they make their way back to Hawaii, having seen the world through the lens of surf.

What I love most about this movie is the fact that, behind the haze of the surf culture, it is a true adventure story. The two surfers, although their motivation may have been superficial, take off on a quest of epic proportions. And just like any other odyssey, they face adversity in different forms along their way – from prohibitive gas prices to pushy locals to shark and knife-like coral – only to eventually return home. Although “The Endless Summer” may have lacked the deep mythology of a great quest story, the archetype is the same and strikes at the heart of any young person – the desire to leave home, see the strange and foreign places, face and overcome obstacles and danger, and to return home stronger.

Of course, because the protagonists are obviously overgrown adolescent American men in their heyday of the 1960s, they barely speak or seem capable of doing anything well except surfing. Credit for keeping this film interesting, then, must be given to the film make Bruce Brown who provided the frame for the story and the narration to add structure. Although at times the narration seems a bit corny, and clearly any non-surfing scenes are staged (sometimes with poorly made props added in), it is the narrator who provides simple, comprehensible context for these men riding the waves.

The director’s greatest success may have been his ability to capture the awe-inspiring beauty of the water. Depending on the mood of the scene, the director managed to capture the ocean itself displaying different moods, from the serenity of the isolation at Cape St. Francis in South Africa to the enraged wrath of The Wedge in Newport Beach, California. Despite what must have been relatively primitive film technology (although I wasn’t a film major, so don’t quote me on that), the director managed to clearly and steadily capture the agility of the surfers aplomb.

In the end, all I can say is: a classic!

Written and Directed by Bruce Brown

The Men Who Stare at Goats

Tagline: "No Goats, No Glory."

Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor), a small-town journalist desperately trying to impress his estranged wife, travels to the Middle East to cover the Iraq War. On his way, he runs into Lyn Cassady (George Clooney), who reveals that he's a psychic soldier on a secret mission. Turns out, as Cassady explains, that in the 1980s the Army trained a whole unit - the New Earth Army - to use new age strategies to fight the wars of the future, led by Bill Django (Jeff Bridges). But, alas, a power struggle ensues with one trooper, Larry Hooper (Kevin Spacey), fracturing the group. Using his psychic mind and intuition, Cassady leads himself and Wilton to a secret base in the middle of the Iraqi desert. Apparently, after the New Earth Army was dismantled, Hooper founded a Blackwater-style group and is making major money launching psychic warfare. Ultimately, Cassady and Django decide to sabotage Hooper's operation by spiking all the food with LSD and then they go riding off into the sunset, never to be seen again and leaving Wilton to try to report the strange tale.

This movie is good. Not great, but good. But, if it isn't already evident, the movie is hard to explain in conventional terms as well. It isn't quite fiction, but it isn't quite non-fiction either. (The opening title states "More of this is true than you would believe.") For a movie that seems to drag on at points, it is surprisingly short.

The hazy gray middle area that this movie occupies is ultimately what held it back. Cassady is so strange, crazy, and off-the-wall that I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to laugh at his absurdist ideas or to pity him for his disconnection from reality. At times the movie is artistic journalism, self-discovery journey, road trip, social commentary, and comedy. None of these are necessarily exclusive from one another, but too many of them packed into just shy of 90 minutes pulled my mind around too much. There were even just a few too many big-name actors thrown into such a short script. (And, I'm not complaining, but it seems like Jeff Bridges can now only play "the washed-up ________ trying to redeem himself." Insert "hippie" for this movie, "country singer" for "Crazy Heart," and, probably, video game programmer for the new "Tron.")

Despite my final confusion, I can easily say that I enjoyed watching the movie. All of the leads - Clooney, McGregor, Bridges, Spacey - were fantastic, dynamic characters. The rich colors of the sets and scenes gave a sense of being just on the edge of reality, without falling away to fantasy. The best comparison I can think of is that this movie is like a grilled hamburger - good on its own, but a few more spices could have made it much better.

Directed by: Grant Heslov

Written by: Peter Straughan (screenplay) and Jon Ronson (book)

Men at Work

The Craft of Baseball

In “Men at Work,” George Will, the famous newspaper columnist and political commentator (now a weekly guest on ABC’s “This Week”), has written perhaps the most analytical book on the subject of baseball. No base goes untouched – if you don’t mind the pun. He discusses the history of the sport, both in terms of the rules and equipment as well as the business; the physical beauty and the laws of physics which govern the game; players with great careers and players who never met potential. Although his research is as exhaustive as a PhD dissertation, with as much reasoning and explanation as a Supreme Court decision, Will focuses particularly on four contemporary (for 1988-1989, during the writing process).

The book begins with Will’s lens focused on then-Oakland Atheletics manager Tony LaRussa (now with the St. Louis Cardinals). Through LaRussa, Will schools the readers on the finer points of managing a baseball team – from creating a line-up to setting up a hit-and-run to plotting different types of double-steals, including how to defend them if the opposition tries one. In accordance with the title, the book reveals all of the actual work that goes into managing a game, done mostly by scouts and bench coaches, which include pitching charts and batting charts and team tendencies for stealing and other plays. The most interesting section involved signs, how to steal signs, and how to avoid having signs stolen. For example, the book reveals that sometimes LaRussa’s hand motions are meaningless while something subtle another coach is doing is truly revealing the sign. Other times, a sign might even be given prior to the situation even arising so that the batter or runner already knows what to do while the coach appears to give no sign at all.

The second major section, discussing pitchers, uses Orel Hershiser, at the peak of his career, as the case-study. Hershiser enlightens us to how a pitcher thinks before and during a game. Will argues that nearly every major rule change has been to the detriment of pitchers in order to enhance offense. So, whenever batting averages start to sag, the game is adjusted to keep everything balanced and equal – even to the point of moving the pitcher’s mound back (from forty-five feet to its current sixty feet, six inches). What Hershiser shows, though, is the resiliency of pitchers, who simply adapt themselves to try to outsmart the hitters.

The third section looks at Tony Gwynn – the last batter to (almost) hit .400 – to provide insight into how great hitters approach the plate. Although Gwynn is often credited with a preternatural hand-eye coordination, Will shows us that that eye was trained through hundreds of daily batting practice swings – both before and after games. His approach to hitting - power to the gaps, looking to drive pitches away and adjust for contact on the inside – made him a nearly perfect hitter. His strive for perfection and constant practice, as well as his willingness to examine his imperfections and make adjustments, made him the best all-around hitter in the past three decades and the perfect person to dissect for Will’s book.

The last, and markedly weakest section, discusses defense with Cal Ripken Jr. as the case study. Part of the reason this section is so weak, as Will admits and openly discusses, is the inability to make comparisons of defensive ability using concrete statistics. Yet, Will argues – and correctly – that defense is a crucial part of the game and that it is easy to observe how great defense can help a team win and poor defense can lead to the opposition scoring runs. Ripken’s insights, although interesting, are simplistic at best and focus more on the cat-and-mouse of offensive strategies against defense and pitching which, in some cases, giving well-timed misinformation to a runner in order to gain a defensive advantage later.

“Men at Work” is possibly the best book about baseball ever written. It is certainly the best that I have ever read, and I’ve read most of ‘em. Will effectively mixes anecdotes and stories with statistics (and statistical anomalies), topping that off with great philosophical and analytical discussions of the game, how it is played, and its meaning to us as Americans (not to mention he has a sharp, dry wit keenly used). My biggest complain is that many of the pages are physically imposing with long, unbroken blocks of paragraph, which is more a condemnation of my own laziness as a reader than his ability as a writer, but which also means that the book takes a long time to read. Still, I absolutely enjoyed this book and highly recommend it to any baseball fanatic. I would not recommend it as a jumping-on point for someone who has never seen or played the great American pastime, but, if that’s the case, it may be too late for you already and your soul may already be lost to the abyss of modern entertainment.

Atonement

Tagline: “You can only imagine the truth.”

Director Joe Wright’s adaptation of Ian McEwan’s novel “Atonement” tells version of the fable “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” set in World War II England.

In the first act, Briony Tallis (Saoirse Ronan) has a crush on the one of her family’s servants Robbie Turner (James McAvoy), but her image of him is ruined when she reads an inappropriate note he had written to her older sister Cecilia (Keira Knightly) and when she stumbles upon the two in a private moment of passion. When another family member is sexually assaulted, Briony lies and says that she saw Robbie doing it, using the raunchy note as evidence.

In the second act, taking place a few years later in the midst of World War II, Bobby has volunteered to join the British army in exchange for his freedom. Cecilia, realizing her sister’s lie, renews their affair and they exchange letters and passionate visits. Of course, the irony (in case you haven’t caught it) is that he has put his life in danger to earn freedom from a crime he didn’t commit. The two carry on a passionate affair, always with the promise of returning to England together.

The third act involves Brioney (now played by Romola Garai) coming to terms with the effects of her lie. She volunteers as a nurse, only to realize (in a very graphic moment) the power of love compared to the brutalities of war. Briony tracks down her sister, only to have to confront both Cecilia and Robbie, home on leave, together. Although it is too late to change much, Briony agrees to write a letter to the court explaining that she had lied as a child. She leaves, ashamed, giving the lovers a moment of privacy before he needs to report to the front lines.

The film has a coda, though, set in contemporary times. Briony is now an old woman (played by Vanessa Redgrave), and reveals that her latest novel, “Atonement” – telling the story of the triangle of love, sin, and contrition we’ve been watching – is completely true. Except! (she reveals) that Robbie actually died as the British army was evacuating Dunkirk and that her sister was killed by a bomb during the Battle of Britain. The part where Robbie and Cecilia meet up was completely made up by Briony for her book, giving them the chance to be happy together that she had originally taken away.

(Phew! Enough plot summary for now? I think so.)

I guess my strongest criticism of “Atonement” is that it tries to be too many things – an epic, a love story, a period piece, with sprinklings of social commentary. If it had focused on one of these aspects, it would have been a much better film overall. For example, although the visual and emotional effects of the scene of Robbie at the evacuation of Dunkirk were incredibly powerful, I feel that this scene did not necessarily add any meaning or depth to the rest of the movie. Although I appreciated that the film did not shy away from the brutal realities of war – Robbie and Cecilia do not live happily ever after – the final visual of old Briony confessing her sins and working for atonement was little overboard. (If you don’t understand from watching the rest of the movie that writing the book and giving new life to the dead was her penance, then you must be dense.)

My other major problem is that the film was too darn literary. I mean, I understand that it was adapted from a novel, but for a movie with essentially three major characters there was too much time spent creating verisimilitude by developing background characters. I don’t mind symbolism either, but too many times in this movie the symbols were so blatant as to be intellectually jarring (such as how the characters are standing in relation to each other in the scene when Robbie is arrested). Even the moment of catharsis – a powerful scene in which Nurse Briony visits a dying soldier who recalls his lost love – is so telegraphed that there may as well have been a caption reading “THE MOMENT OF CATHARSIS – BRIONY REALIZES THE ERROR OF HER WAYS.”

Part of the reason I am so critical of this movie, though, is because it is so close to being great in my opinion, but just misses the mark. I want desperately to hold it in high esteem, but I restrain myself. It has all the traits of a great movie, but felt like everybody – the director, the actors, even the composer – were trying for a great movie. The music, the scenery, the costumes, the performances – everything felt like it was created with Oscar gold in mind.

So, ultimately, I will say that this was a pretty good movie. (I avoid saying that it was “enjoyable” because any movie in which the audience is exposed, in seriousness, to a man missing part of his skull is hard to call “enjoyable.”) I recommend it highly, and I wish I had seen it in the theatre. I just wish it could have been better, somehow.

The Glory of Their Times

The Story of the Early Days of Baseball Told by the Men Who Played It

Edited by Lawrence S. Ritter

Ritter’s book collects interviews he did (presented as first-person narratives) with great players from the early twentieth century. These men played during the last years of the “dead ball” era, yet were still able to set many records that stand today. Although, as baseball grows and changes, we seem to lose sight of all but only the absolute best of yesteryear, this book will help many of the lesser known legends and myths live on for future generations, regardless of how future eras of baseball adapt the game.

One of the book’s recurring themes (and, apparently, one of the inspirations for the book’s development) is the life and career of Ty Cobb. Although Cobb had died before Ritter began his interviews, his influence and impact on the men thatRitter interviewed is clearly evident. Many of the men mention Cobb’s aggressiveness on the basepaths and his nasty temper, although some also excuse his behavior by explaining that he was desperate to win. Although some of Cobb’s records still stand today, and he remains in the top five of many categories, his legend has lost some of its luster in recent years. Some of the stories told in this book about the southern soldier of the field shed some interesting light on baseball’s original villain and antagonist without necessarily exonerating him.

The other major recurring story is one of baseball’s most infamous plays – Snodgrass’s Muff in the 1912 World Series. Fred Snodgrass himself is interviewed in the book and openly confesses the error, but he points to the fact that by dropping that fly ball he merely allowed the tying to reach base and that they did not lose the game on that play. Many of the other players recall Snodgrass’s excellent career and point to the fact that on the next play after dropping the ball, Snodgrass made a diving stab to catch a ball that would have been a sure triple. Sadly, he is the victim of an ill-timed error which historically overshadows the rest of his playing years, but it was nice to read that at least the other players were able to see his great playing ability beyond that one play.

I was surprised repeatedly about how well these men were able to hit, even with a “dead ball.” They adapted their style of hitting to account for a ball that could rarely be smashed out of the park. Many of the men described how high they would “choke up” on the bat and slap at the ball, dropping it right over the reach of the infielders. This is in stark contrast to the modern era of baseball, when pride or ego will not allow the players to choke up to better control their swings against a tough pitcher.

Overall, I enjoyed this book. But, I tend to like pretty much anything that involves baseball. It was a little bit repetitive at a few points – different players recounting the same event in similar words. Yet, it was fun to read the surprisingly eloquent words of these players while watching a contemporary game in the background.

Herb and Dorothy

"You don't have to be a Rockefeller to collect art."

Herb and Dorothy Vogel lived very simply in a small rent-controlled apartment in New York. Herb worked the graveyard shift as a mail sorter for the USPS (now retired). Dorothy was a librarian. They lived conservatively on simple means, with no children but an eccentric menagerie of cats, fish, and turtles. Looking at them or talking to them would reveal nothing especially interesting or important about this couple.

What makes this couple (and, therefore, this documentary) so interesting, then, is how such an unassuming couple could accumulate such a massive art collection. Over the course of several decades, the Vogels collected nearly 5,000 pieces of artwork from young artists – many of whom, such as Chuck Close, would become incredibly famous. They survived on one income and dedicated their other income to buying artwork from up and coming artists of the minimalist and conceptual art movements, which they stored in piles and stacks in their apartment. Ultimately, they decided to donate their collection to the National Gallery and to various museums throughout the country.

This documentary, directed by Megumi Sasaki, snuck up on me. I went into it cautiously pessimistic. Yet, I grew to care about Herb and Dorothy as human beings, accepting their strange but incredible eccentricity. We learn about the history of their relationship with each other, as well as their relationships with various artists. We also learn about the strategies they used to acquire pieces of artwork on their limited income, including haunting galleries almost daily, visiting the artists’ studios and buying drafts and process pieces, and, in one case, cat-sitting for an artist in exchange for a collage.

Part of what makes this documentary so powerful is the lack of a narrator explaining everything. Instead of Morgan Freeman or Alec Baldwin telling us how to feel about the Vogels, we are left to our own interpretations based on the words and actions of the Vogels themselves and the testimony of friends. We see Herb and Dorothy through the lens of who they are and what they do.

Without a narrator, though, the film exposes its only major weakness. There is no real narrative flow or structure to the movie. The sequences are put together thematically, not necessarily chronologically, so there are sometimes major jumps in time without any real explanation. There are also a few gaps in the Vogels’ history that are merely glazed over – namely the 1980’s. Yet, these structural problems do not necessarily inhibit the viewing of the film; they just require that the viewer make some inferences and connect a few dots (though we viewers are loath to do so, considering we are so often spoon-fed by the film industry).

This documentary is surprisingly touching and enjoyable. I learned a lot about artwork and art collection. But the true moral of the story that a couple – madly in love with each other – can accomplish things that individual experts and professionals can only dream of doing.

Down and Out in Paris and London

George Orwell’s first book is a memoir of his times tramping about Paris and London scrounging around for food and shelter. The first half of the book covers his time living in Paris, working as a dishwasher in hotels and desperately trying to pay the rent. The second half of the book reveals his time living as a tramp (literally!) around the London area, moving from shelter to shelter and living on a daily ration of bread and butter.

As a memoir, it contains nearly now plot arc, but is merely sequenced by the order of the events, regardless of their value as part of the narrative. The closest parallel to a plot arc in the text is the fact that, as the book goes on, Orwell’s situation becomes more and more dire. The characters in the Paris portion of the book are much more entertaining and funny and, although he is often pawning most of his clothing for food money, it never seems as though he is in any real danger. This may be because he has his own apartment (even though shabby) and his friends are very creative when it comes to finding money. Regardless of the reason, in Paris his poverty felt more like watching a sitcom than reading the pleas for help of a desperate man.

Yet, when he arrives in London, he is suddenly is homeless and destitute. He is forced to wander from shelter to shelter each day, surviving on bread and butter and smoking cigarettes made from the tobacco of cigarettes other people threw away. At times, the reader actually fears for his life as he is locked in with strangers in cells at shelters. Despite the intellect that we know he has, he is caught in a situation with seemingly no way out (until a job he was promised before he moved to London becomes available). He is a man lost in a sea of impoverished masses.

As his situation grows worse, his prose becomes much more purpose driven. We begin to see the seeds of class and political ideals which would flavor his later (and much more famous) work, such as “Animal Farm” and “1984.” He blames the plight of the tramp on the capitalist society which punishes people who are productive but whose skills are not valued, while sometimes rewarding those whose skills are valued regardless of whether or not they are productive. Although his later texts would be characterized as blatantly anti-communist, certain passages of this book would be clearly anti-capitalist. (From these opposing points, then, we cannot infer any political leanings from his books, except an opposition to politics and institutions that would repress and control any part of those it purports to represent.

Ultimately, this is a pretty good start for a writer whose influence on literature (and the politics in literature) would become very powerful. It is not a great book, by any means, but it shows glimmers of the potential greatness that he would later achieve.

Rudo y Cursi

"Rudo y Cursi," written and directed by Carlos Cuaron, follows the story of two brothers in Mexico who have dreams of being soccer stars. Tato "Cursi" (Gael Garcia Bernal) makes it big first, with some help from Batuta the narrator (Guillermo Francella). Riding his coat tails, his brother Beto "Rudo" (Diego Luna) breaks into soccer as a goal keeper for a rival team. Both brothers have problems off the soccer field, though. Tato can't get his love life in order and begins to feel the pressures of fame, while Beto's gambling problem becomes overwhelming. The two men's soccer and personal lives are on a collision course, with Tato needing to score a goal to revive his personal life and Beto on his road to a record number of shut out games.

To start with the good stuff: The characters in this movie - especially the two protagonists - are incredibly rich and detailed. As the movie rolls along, they feel real, as though you actually know them. The sibling rivalry is portrayed spot-on, including the barrages of insults and minor fisticuffs.

Unfortunately, some of the scenes did play out very well, come off as silly or almost absurdist in a movie which, at times, is hyper-realistic. The biggest problem, though, is that the ending is a bit rushed. There is a lot of build-up to a pretty thrilling climax, but the resolution comes out of nowhere. Not only does the story not turn out how we expected, the ending is almost non sequitur.

Of course, because I enjoyed the movie so much, I interpret the ending to make it stronger. Perhaps the fact that we don't see the ending coming is part of the point. We are so consumed by our goals and ourselves (or, in this case, the lives of the brothers) that we often miss the obvious developments going on around us. The brothers were so consumed by themselves and their records and accomplishments, that they were blind to everything else. The world, and all the other people in it, move forward regardless of how important we see ourselves and what we do. Yet, at the same time, we are left to live only with ourselves and our successes and failures in a world to which we are not very important.

Rolling Stone - Issue 1108/1109 (July 8-22)

Cover – Lady Gaga Tells All

This interview cover story of Lady Gaga proved that she is just as schizophrenic as the many personas that she portrays through her songs and performances. At times, she seemed like she possessed some artistic sense, but would then falter and devolve into a whiny overgrown teenager. I suppose that time will tell whether this is an early interview of a pop music mastermind at the beginning of her legacy, or just a car with highbeams running down the highway of youth culture.

Of course, buried under the Lady Gaga lead was the issue’s most important article – Michael Hastings’ profile of Stanley McChrystal. We learn some interesting facts about the general’s formative years. The piece also discussed McChrystal’s controversial long-term anti-insurgency strategy in Afghanistan, including ordering troops to show restraint in using lethal force while also requesting a troop surge. Unfotunately, McChrystal also made some comments disparaging the Obama administration’s management of the War on Terror. (These commends led directly to Obama relieving McChrystal of his duty and replacing him with Petraus.)

The issue also included a profile of reggae engineer Lee “Scratch” Perry and an obituary for madman actor Dennis Hopper. The coverage of the Bonaroo was surprisingly weak, giving me nothing I couldn’t have guessed or made up on my own.

The “Reviews” section didn’t cover much I was interested in. The new Eminem album “Recovery” received a surprisingly high review, as well as M.I.A.’s “Maya” record. In regards to movies, Christopher Nolan’s “Inception,” “Toy Story 3,” and “The Kids Are Alright” (no, not The Who) received the highest, while “Jonah Hex” earned the lowest review, one star, that I’ve seen in “Rolling Stone” in many years.

Wizard and Glass

This - the fourth episode of "The Dark Tower" series - is perhaps the best of the series up to this point. Part of the reason it is so good is because it tells a great story of our hero Roland's past. Unfortunately, because most of this book involves our crew sitting around a campfire while Roland tells us about his past, our fellowship is no closer to The Dark Tower. For a book with so much plot - one front on the war which destroys Roland's world - not much happens regarding the larger plot arc. (Sure, there's a little bit about the revival of the Tick-Tock Man villan, and some direct allusions to The Wizard of Oz - but that part actually feels forced on to the end, as though King realized that he needed to move his characters forward.)

We find out about Roland's first (and probably only) love, as well as about some of his friendships. We learn that Walter (the Man in Black from the first book) was on the side of the Good Man, betraying Roland's world. We also learn that, at the time of his world's crumbling, Roland was just a young man. Stylistically, there are some great action sequences, and the mythology of Roland's world and all its political and social complexities become more clear.

Without giving it too much praise, this book definitely gives the mysterious hero more definition.

Tommy

"Your senses will never be the same."

"Tommy" - that deaf, dumb, and blind kid who sure plays a mean pinball - is the protagonist of The Who's famous rock opera.

The film version stars Roger Daltrey as the hero who, after seeing his father killed by his mother and stepfather (Oliver Reed), quite literally loses his senses. His mother (Ann-Margret) feels terrible guilt about the cover-up, and takes Tommy to all sorts of healers, such as The Preacher (Eric Clapton), but all to no avail. During this search for a cure, it is discovered that Tommy has a talent for playing pinball "by sense of smell" and he gains a cult following. When a medical specialist (Jack Nicholson - singing!) manages to cure Tommy, he opens his own religious resort. Ultimately, his followers realize that he is not a messiah, and his downfall leaves him alone in the world.

To say that Ken Russell's film is visually stunning would be an understatement. Lots of interesting colors, camera angles, and camera movement give them film a vibrancy hard to find in any other movie. Unfortunately, these features were all taken to the extreme. The constantly shifting colors and angles made me feel like I was in a fever dream, while the movement added to a sense of seasickness.

"Tommy" is unique. This uniqueness isn't enough to lift it to cinematic greatness. But the "rock opera" format - complete with cameos by Elton John and Eric Clapton - has never reached an apex higher than this. And it's hard to see another one being as revered as this one in the future. It's good. It's really, really good. Just not great.

Idiocracy

Tagline: "The future is a no brainer."

In Mike Judge's 2006 comedy, the perfectly average Joe (Luke WIlson) and Rita (Maya Rudolph) take part in an military experiment with suspended animation. When they wake up five hundred years later, they find that evolution has actually led to humanity losing intelligence. While trying to get to a time machine so he can get back to his proper era, Joe gets into some trouble with the law. Through an IQ test (which, for some reason, is part of his arrest process), it is discovered that he is the smartest man on earth, and so he is recruited to solve America's problems. Joe proves adept at handling these issues - such as using water to help plants grow - and ultimately decides to stay in the future with Rita.

This movie was generally panned by the critics, especially after Fox put it on an extremely limited release and refused to give advanced screenings. And it's easy to see why. The movie lacks cohesion. It feels like a lot of semi-great ideas duck taped together with a limited budget. At times, the comedy is slapstick. At other times, it is almost absurdist (think Terry Gilliam). But most of the time it seems like the set was slapped together moments before filming, while the script was being edited and adjusted mid-scene.

Which is unfortunate, because this movie has a lot of great moments which are lost in the film's self-destruction. Justin Long's great appearance as a doctor is absolutely hilarious, but that scene is passed over so quickly that we barely get to enjoy it. Many of the best jokes are there and gone - Joe's cunning escape from prison - while some of the weaker material ends up being used repeatedly - such as how Starbucks's marketing caters to a more carnal menu in the future (and that's as far as I'll go here about that).

After finishing this movie, trying to find the silver lining, my wife said, "It was good for a laugh." But that's about it. A laugh. Or two. Maybe four or five, after drinking for a bit. But there just was not enough to make up for the film's inconsistency.

The Road

There's no reason for me to summarize the plot for "The Road" because I've already covered it on this blog.

Honestly, I need to stand up to all the critics who characterized the movie as a flop. This film was an honest adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's masterpiece. Was it as elegant or artistic or original as the novel? Of course not! But John Hillcoat's film was faithful to the heart and soul of the book. Of course, the result of working so closely with the source work is that the film is bleak and depressing, leaving the viewer to ponder the ultimate fate of humanity for an hour or two after finishing it.

Of course, to stay true to the meaning of the text, the film did have to stray from a literal page-by-page duplication of the book - which led to some unfortunate cuts. For example, although the whole scene was less than a minute, the encounter with the dying man who had been hit by lightning was cut (although it can be found in the "Deleted Scenes" on the DVD). This cut was made - I presume - because The Man and The Boy (portrayed wonderfully by Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee) are supposed to live in a world nearly devoid of people. Yet, the most comprehensible sequences in the film are when they encounter others like them. So, to balance the need for human interaction to move the film's narrative forward with the need to convey the fact that only a few humans are still alive, many cuts were made.

The setting of the film is pretty well exactly how I imagined the gray post-disaster landscape that McCarthy outlined, although I did not quite imagine so many abandoned cars for some reason (but I put that fault on myself and my inability to imagine anything not made explicit in the text). The art and set direction kept everything gray and covered in ash. This bland background made the flashback sequences with the Woman (Charlize Theron) more powerful, with pastel colors giving a sense of life before the world decayed beyond repair.

I cannot say enough about how impressed I am with Viggo Mortensen's portrayal of the Man. Although his acting is not over-the-top in this movie, it is perfect for the role he plays. And for a movie that spends ninety percent of its time focused on two characters, the minor characters were critical for making this film great. Robert Duvall's portrayal of the Old Man is heartbreakingly beautiful, tears welling in his eyes as he recalls the ultimate fate of his absent son. Guy Pearce expertly suggests his trustworthiness with subtleness but clarity.

The biggest problem this movie had was the narrative structure - the fact that it had a clear one. In the book, McCarthy was able to convey a sense of timelessness, or, rather, a lack of time. Every gray day blends into one another, and there is no way of distinguishing each. There's no sense of order to the days. Yet, because of the linear nature of a movie, this movie takes on a timeline that the book does not have. This is the film's biggest artistic departure from the book.

I highly recommend this movie. Everyone should read the novel first, of course. My only warning is that you need to be prepared to suffer through a pretty deep, depressed mood for a while after the end (even though it ends on a hopeful note).

Bullets Over Broadway

In this 1920's timepiece comedy by Woody Allen, David Shayne (John Cusack) is an up-and-coming playwright who wants to get his new play produced. But, when the money dries up, his producer turns to the mob - who agree to fund the play, on the condition that Olive (Jennifer Tilly) - the boss's girlfriend - gets to play the lead. Keeping Olive happy is no small feat, though, and so her bodyguard Cheech (Chazz Palmentari) starts to offer advice to make the play better. Cheech's tips are surprisingly good, and he takes on a larger role helping Shayne finish the play, even to the point of betraying his boss's wishes! (There's also a subplot about Shayne having an affair with another actress (played by Dianne Wiest) who is also jockeying for a better role in the play.)

As much as I like Woody Allen's work (such as "Annie Hall" (duh!) and "Manhattan"), this film took me a little while to dig in and enjoy. At first, the 1920's setting came off as a little too cartoonish or like a high school play. The costumes were just too clean and the sets almost simplistic. Once I got past these superficial issues, though - and the fact that John Cusack was playing the Woody Allen role - I was able to enjoy it.

Part of the reason it took me so long to get past those features was the fact that the movie spent so much time in exposition. The characters were so busy being characters - and fleshing out every detail of their personality - that it was nearly an hour before the plot started to move forward. Cheech is basically set furniture for the first half of the film, although he turns out to be one of the most dynamic and important characters. Once Cheech starts to speak up, though, things start to move along and the film takes on a great vibrancy.

Although the movie was technically a comedy, the comedy itself veered from Allen's typical high-wit with a hint of slapstick style. This humor was much more situational and character based, with most of the verbal jokes (such as Wiest's constant "No! No! Don't speak!" repetition) coming off with a dry mock-seriousness, to the point where I was not sure whether or not to laugh.

Despite all my complaints here, though, I want to make clear that the movie had an enjoyable, simple charm. I had fun watching this movie. It did not require me to push emotional buttons or think too deeply about symbolic meanings, but, at the same time, it was was not bland or boring. It threaded a tough needle that way.

I recommend this movie because of its charm and effect. Just make sure you drink some coffee to help you get through the slow opening.

Read Hard

Five Years of Great Writing from "The Believer"

Edited by Ed Park and Heidi Julavits

For those of you who do not know, “The Beliver” is the monthly, non-fiction left-jab to “McSweeney’s” quarterly, fictional right-uppercut (although, considering I know nothing about boxing, I might have the whole metaphor flip-flopped). This book collects the best (arguably) pieces from the first five years of the magazine’s history and puts them in one place for those of us who either did not know the magazine existed or – as in my case – could not the darn periodical.

I added “arguably” to a sentence in my opening argument not because I did not feel that some of the essays were great, but rather because I could not tell whether some of the essays were great or not. One of the factors that makes “The Believer” such a fantastic magazine – the editors’ lack of inhibition in publishing essays regarding just about any subject or theme – also contributes to the book’s biggest weakness. For many of the essays, I could decipher that the piece was well written – but I lacked the cultural capital to make it accessible. Frankly, in some cases, I had no more than a shadowing understanding of what the essay was about.

The perfect example of this inability to relate to the essay is Franklin Bruno’s piece “In Praise of Termites,” which discusses the life and work of film critic Manny Farber. The article repeatedly referenced Farber’s writings on film theory – which I have not read, and I doubt most non-film major people have read. The article also discusses how Farber interpreted several movies which I have never heard of and, obviously, never seen. By the time I finished reading this seventeen page monster, I only had a vague understanding of Farber’s work.

The book does have many great essays, though. (And, in retrospect, I should have probably started by discussing those pieces instead.) One of my favorites is Paul LaFarge’s explanation / history / personal narrative regarding “Dungeons & Dragons.” LaFarge infuses D&D metaphors throughout the essay to help explain the game (such as “entering the cave” instead of “learning about the game). Yet, after introducing the essence and dynamics of the game to the readers, the essay shifts into a history of how the game was developed and what happened to the intellectual property rights. Finally, the third act begins a personal narrative of how the writer game to play a game of D&D with the game’s most recognized developer (there were many, we learn earlier).

Another fantastic piece – and perhaps my favorite – is “The Sinatra Doctrine” by Rich Cohen. Cohen’s essay fantastically weaves the story of the song “My Way” together with a the song’s most famous performers and how they came to sing it. We are strung along through a history which begins with Paul Anka writing the song as a farewell for Frank Sinatra, explains how that farewell actually revitalized Sinatra’s career, connects Sinatra’s disdain for rock and roll to how Elvis eventually began performing the song himself, and reveals how punk rock’s rejection of Elvis’s cooption of rock and roll’s soul led to the Sid Vicious performing the song. Ultimately, we are lead back to Paul Anka – the original writer (though he stole the tune from an unsuccessful French pop piece) – still performing his most famous piece of music, although he did not make it famous himself.

Other highlights include William T. Vollmann’s meditation on the destruction of war – “And Suppress the Unpleasant Things” – and Joe Hagan’s search for the greatest musician to ever disappear off the face of the earth – “Transit Byzantium.” Ginger Strand’s examination of the history and purpose of aquariums – “Why Look at Fish?” – was cute and enlightening. Jonathan Lethem’s “The American Vicarious” takes a snapshot of Nathaniel West’s short novels and their relevance to modern society, although I felt that it was over before the intellectual momentum began.

I recommend this book, but only for people who are ready for an intellectual workout and are not afraid to find out how little they actually know about significant parts of our modern American (or in some cases, international) culture. At least I can use what I found out I don’t know as a springboard to find out more next time I am at the library.

Rolling Stone - Issue 1107 (June 24, 2010)

Cover: Jay-Z - "King of America"

This issue seemed like it was put together by a bunch of 7th graders affected by ADD. The articles often seemed half-baked, vague, or downright meaningless. Mark Binelli's cover piece on Jay-Z meandered but did not provide much more insight than could be scrounged up online at a few sites, and Brian Haitt's article on Jonah Hill made the actor look more like an angsty teenager instead of the comic genius image they clearly had in mind. Even the six page coverage of "The Dance Takeover" felt like a bunch of snapshots that had been thrown together at the last minute.

The National Affairs desk salvages the issue (as it often does, it seems). Tim Dickinson's coverage of the "The Spill, the Scandal, and the President" effectively breaks down who is to blame for what part of the Deepwater Horizon explosion and the ensuing oil spill. Granted, in the rapid-fire pace of the modern news media, some of Dickinson's information was outdated by the time it went to press, but that does not take away from the importance of what Dickinson is saying - including the audacity of BP in copy-pasting whole sections of their "Oil Spill Response Plan" for the Gulf from a previous plan for the Arctic. A short interview with political genius (and personal hero) James Carville exemplifies the indignation Dickinson intends for us to feel, as Carville calls for "criminal prosecution" of BP's executives, claiming that "watching another CEO in handcuffs" will make other companies act in a safer manner.

Highlights from the "Reviews" section include the new album by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - "Mojo" - and the Gaslight Anthem's "American Slang" getting the best write-ups. I was also surprised to see 1990's bubble-gum-pop sensations Hanson getting a decent showing for their latest effort.

Listening Is an Act of Love (2007)

A Celebration of American Life from the StoryCorps Project.

For those of you who have never heard of StoryCorps: You need to listen to NPR more often! Founded by Dave Isay (who edited this collection), the group's mission "is to provide American's of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to record, share, and preserve the stories of their lives."

Traditionally speaking, history is written by the victors. And not just the victors, but usually only the wealthy and politically powerful victors. So, generations from now, what happens to us - the common man? We decay into statistics and vague generalizations correlating to our time period. And what happens to our private stories of personal triumphs and failures? No matter how wonderful, powerful, or teaching these stories might be, they dissipate into the ether.

Dave Isay set out to stop that vicious cycle. He and his StoryCorps cohort travel the country, giving anybody the opportunity to record a conversation for posterity. In this way, the folk heroes of modern America are given a chance to live forever when all the recordings are stored at the Library of Congress.

This book is a collection of transcripts of exemplary interviews recorded by the project. Although interview excerpts can be heard weekly on NPR (and via the group's podcast), reading these stories presented a new perspective - turning the interviews into true "stories." The nature of these stories ranges from the humorous (a man using a wooden leg to protect himself from a dog) to the powerful (a man returning a favor nearly 50 years later) to the tragic (a prisoner trying to overcome drug addiction). The last section is dedicated solely to tragic stories about September 11 and Hurricane Katrina.

While reading this book, I could not help remembering my grandfather. In retrospect, his experiences in the Great Depression and World War II would have made him an ideal folk hero. Yet, I was happy to read so many stories that paralleled his - people who made it through the hard times with dignity - people never complained about hard work - people who made this world a better place without consideration for individual egos.

I cannot recommend this book for the weak of heart or the emotionally sensitive; some of the stories are downright heartbreaking. But, I wholeheartedly recommend the book. Traced throughout these stories is the strength of the common man during uncommon times. It is a comforting feeling to realize that there are other people who, without glory or commendation, live upright and moral lives. And they live to tell the tale.

Gonzo: The Life of Hunter S. Thompson

An Oral Biography by Jann S. Wenner and Corey Seymour (2007).

Jann S. Wenner, founder and publisher of Rolling Stone, explains in the foreword that this book is basically an extension of the magazine’s tribute to Hunter Thompson after his death. That issue (if you were lucky enough, like me, to grab a copy) was almost completely dedicated to personal reflections from friends and celebrities on the giddy highs and violent lows that defined Hunter Thompson. This book completes that issue in the way that a great bonus disc can complete a great DVD set.

The book is broken apart into many vignettes about Thompson, told in the first-person, by those who were with him. The stories themselves are organized foremost by chronology, and then sub-divided by themes. The contributors consist of people from many aspects of his life, ranging from his childhood friends and neighbors, to his editors and celebrity friends. The stories also range from describing the wild, public side of Thompson, to his more private – almost sensitive – personal side.

Considering that Thompson’s favorite subject was, in many ways, himself, I was surprised to learn so much more about him than I had previously known. Parts of his life which had previously been out of focus, such as his childhood, became much more illuminated. Of course, it was also funny to read some stories that are already legendary – such as his crippling inability to meet a deadline and his superhuman tolerance for alcohol.

This last aspect, though, is also part of the book’s weakness. A few too many of the stories are re-hashes of prior stories, and the same story is sometimes even repeated a few times within this tome. At a few points, it drags on interminably, almost without aim, but yet, at other points, entire decades nearly vanish without comment. Too much time, I feel, is spent on details that did not change or add any meaning to what is already known. Surprisingly (though pleasantly), there is no lengthy discussion of his literary legacy or impact on writing – the book merely ends after his death.

It is hard to give a blanket recommendation for this book. If you have no idea who Thompson is, “Gonzo” is not the place to start. But, if you are already a Thompson fanatic, this book does not add much to his mystique either. I enjoyed this book merely as a reminder of a great writer – a man with so much control over his words – who could have been so much more, if only he had been able to control other parts of his life as well.

The Man from Earth

From Netflix: “Renowned sci-fi writer Jerome Bixby penned the script for this thought-provoking film starring David Lee Smith as John Oldman, a college professor who reveals to his colleagues that he’s actually a centuries-old caveman. And so begins a captivating philosophical meditation on immortality, the last work from screenwriter Bixby, who earned career accolades for his contributions to such genre-defining shows as “Star Trek” and “The Twilight Zone.””

This film was recommended to me based on my interest in the writer’s previous work. In regards to production value, though, the movie is a bit too much like the television shows the writer was famous for – very low. From the very start, the movie is dialogue heavy with little action. In fact, almost the entire movie takes place with the group of characters sitting around and talking. The majority of the film is set with the characters sitting in front of the fireplace of a cabin, with a bunch of boxes in the background.

The premise of the movie (directed by Richard Schenkman) is based on a game of logic – trying to prove or disprove a point that can neither be proven nor disproven. If a man lived for 14,000 years, how could he possibly prove it? At the same time, if someone claimed to live for 14,000 years, how could someone possibly prove him wrong? Much of the early dialogue of the film is spent exploring this, to only come to the conclusion that one must either accept or reject the premise regardless of the proof. This idea, the necessity of proof, leads to the most interesting discussion of the movie.

It turns out, you see, that John Oldman was, in fact, Jesus. He claims that he actually came preaching the same essential ideas as Buddhism, but that his words were misinterpreted and that it was humanity who deified him into the Jesus despite his protests. This idea is reminiscent of Daniel Quinn’s “Ismael,” in which it is posited that much of the Bible is an interpretation of the natural social development of humanity. Anyway…

Ultimately, Oldman tells everyone that he’s not really 14,000 years old, and that it was just a cruel joke. Of course, we all know that he is merely appeasing them because he is just about to move on to begin a new life before people realize that he is not aging. There's also a "deus ex machina" moment right near the end in which one of the characters realizes that Oldman is actually his father, which did not seem to fit in with the rest of the film. The end of the movie occurs very suddenly, and really settles nothing.

What has been surprising to me is how well this movie was (generally) received by the critics. It didn't get wild reviews, but I was surprised at how many people were generally impressed by it. I was simply underwhelmed. It is based on a very intriguing concept, but the concept itself was not explored beyond the surface level. There are no flashbacks or scenes that take place away from Oldman's cabin. I've seen student-produced plays that have better staging and blocking.

So, despite the intrigue of the premise and the charm of the low budget, the movie was unsatisfying.

Zeitoun

Over spring break, I decided to forgo the usual "light" reading and hit something a little more serious. But, at the same time, I needed something with a bit of literary flare. Dave Eggers's 2009 book "Zeitoun" was the cure for what ailed my reading needs. The book traces the story of how Hurricane Katrina affected Abdulrahman Zeitoun and his family (specifically, his wife).

Before the storm, Zeitoun owns a flourishing painting company as well as rents out some properties. As the city is evacuated, he refuses to leave with his family - claiming that he needs to look after his property and business. Although he survives the initial flooding, he repeatedly refuses to abandon his city despite his wife's fears of the widespread violence. He keeps in touch with his family for several days as they make their way to safety.

Then, he disappears. He stops calling his family. No one can reach him. Even his brother in Spain and his family in Syria are contacting agencies in an effort to locate him, with no luck. As days pass, his wife braces for the worst and begins planning a life without her husband. Then, she gets an anonymous phone call telling her that her husband is alive, but in prison.

Turns out that he had been arrested by a pseudo-military group for looting, but had gotten stuck in a broken judicial / prison system which required no trials or due-process - and had no official record of his arrest. Eventually, though a little perseverance (and some emotional arm-twisting), the husband and wife are reunited and live happily-ever-after (almost).

In the tradition of Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood," Eggers wrote "Zeitoun" from the angle of fiction. This allowed him to use literary devices - suspense, rising action, flashbacks - to tell what was already a fantastic story. The beauty of the prose was effectively able to disguise the massive amount of research that went into writing the book. Eggers was able to balance writing the story from two perspectives - Zeitoun and his wife Kathy - while also including the opinions and views of others involved in the events. Eggers also interwove flashbacks to Zeitoun and Kathy's pasts

Hidden underneath the narrative of the story is an expose of the complete breakdown of the political and judicial system in the wake of the catastrophe. Zeitoun, because of his Syrian hertiage, was treated like a terrorist, was convicted of a crime without being told of his charges, and was not even allowed a phone call to tell his family he was alive. When, after some legal pressure he was given a bail hearing, his location was still considered "classified information" - so although there was a bail amount, his wife had no way of setting him free.

At the heart of such a powerful story, though, are two simple themes - a struggle with faith and the strength of love to overcome obstacles. After the storm, as Zeitoun is able to bring aid to his stranded neighbors, he begins to feel that his presence was part of a divine plan, but after his arrest he begins to question how his predicament was allowed to happen if he had been doing the work of God. Of course, his wife's love for him compels her to keep searching for her husband, even in the face of overwhelming evidence of his death. When Zeitoun is finally released, the police refuse to give back his ID and the usually docile Kathy literally accosts the District Attorney until his wallet is given back (although mysteriously missing the money and credit cards).

As usual with items published by McSweeneys - I recommend this book!