Monthly Archives: May 2008

Quotable

Posted by jdewitte on

I keep a file called “Quotable” that I just cut-and paste stuff into.

Here’s a chunk:

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” – Neil Gaiman

“The most important things are the hardest to say… because words diminish them.”~ Stephen King

I loved you, and perhaps still do,
The flame may not be extinguished; yet
It burns so quietly within my soul,
No longer should you feel distressed by it.
Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
At times too jealous and at times too shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As tenderly and truthfully as I.
-Pushkin

“The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.”

When I am working on a problem I never think about beauty. I only think about how to solve the problem. But when I have finished, if the solution is not beautiful, I know it is wrong.
– R. Buckminster Fuller

“Anyone that speaks ill of revenge ain’t ever lost anything important.”

“I’m glad I was raised Catholic. That way the sex will always be dirty.”

A new parent, when asked if she had any advice for expectant mothers: “It’s not abuse if it’s neglect.”

“I want to kill robotic zombie terrorists with you. You can even have the deluxe shotgun with explosive scattershot. I’ll just use this knife over here.” – Craigslist post

He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare,
And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere.
– Ali ibn Abi Talib, A Hundred Sayings

Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it’s all over. – Octavia Butler

He was a no-nonsense Midwestern man’s man. He could appreciate a scotch without being sloppy; admire the curve of a woman without being vulgar; share humor without being a buffoon. A gentleman, I guess.

Some of these were found here:
http://www.pajiba.com/whats-your-favorite-quote.htm

Politics / Socioculture

Posted by jdewitte on

Some friends and I were discussing Ted Kennedy’s recent tragic setback (and may I remind the pundits – He Ain’t Dead Yet – Back Off!) and were reminiscing about his outta-the-park concession speech at the Convention in 1980.

“The 1980 Republican convention was awash with crocodile tears for our economic distress, but it is by their long record and not their recent words that you shall know them.

The same Republicans who are talking about the crisis of unemployment have nominated a man who once said, and I quote, “Unemployment insurance is a prepaid vacation plan for freeloaders.” And that nominee is no friend of labor.

The same Republicans who are talking about the problems of the inner cities have nominated a man who said, and I quote, “I have included in my morning and evening prayers every day the prayer that the Federal Government not bail out New York.” And that nominee is no friend of this city and our great urban centers across this nation.

The same Republicans who are talking about security for the elderly have nominated a man who said just four years ago that “Participation in social security should be made voluntary.” And that nominee is no friend of the senior citizens of this nation.

The same Republicans who are talking about preserving the environment have nominated a man who last year made the preposterous statement, and I quote, “Eighty percent of our air pollution comes from plants and trees.” And that nominee is no friend of the environment.

And the same Republicans who are invoking Franklin Roosevelt have nominated a man who said in 1976, and these are his exact words, “Fascism was really the basis of the New Deal.” And that nominee whose name is Ronald Reagan has no right to quote Franklin Delano Roosevelt.”

http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/tedkennedy1980dnc.htm

Books – Tipping the Velvet

Posted by jdewitte on

Sarah Waters’ Tipping the Velvet is a ripping, exciting, heartbreaking, sexually arousing Candide-like adventure. The story follows the resourceful Nancy Astley – from a small village ‘oyster parlour’, shucking and cooking oysters for tourists in the family business; to music-hall London, assisting, and then starring with, the impressive entertainer Kitty Butler; to the decadent squalor of being a quickie ‘renter’ for horny businessmen; to being kept by a ridiculously wealthy, and kinky, divorcee, and finally reconciling herself to happiness with an entirely different kind of family. In fact, one of the overarching themes of the novel is the variety and plentitude of all kinds of ‘families’ – family back home, families of theatricals, families of street kids, families of peers, families of the like-minded – the communities we create, fall into or gravitate towards as a consequence of our own present condition in life.

The first two or three pages of the book are exhiliarating – Waters welcomes you to the book with a disarmingly conversational tone, catching you up in Nancy’s girlish enthusiasm. Nancy is an immensely likeable character already, and when her modest life is turned practically upside-down before you even cross page 15, you follow her right down the rabbit-hole. Nancy falls head-over-heels in love with Kitty, and inures herself to Kitty’s world. And because we already feel such goodwill towards Nancy, it never occurs to us that this should be some Big Conditional Psychological Revelation – falling in love with another woman. Nor is there any sense that it’s a schoolgirl crush or infatuation, or some kind of adolescent exploration. We fear that Kitty may take advantage and, ultimately, break her heart over the long run, but Nancy is so earnestly and guilelessly devoted for all the right reasons that we can’t help but fall into her idealistic side of the romance.

I’m sure there are hundreds of books that establish their protagonist so graciously, so winningly, so sympathetically, in the first few pages, that you’ll follow them anywhere the story may lead. Candide is probably the obvious example, but I really can’t think of another character that has pulled me through an entire book so effortlessly and compellingly as Sarah Waters’ Nancy. As Kitty’s dresser, we’re rooting for her. As Kitty’s lover, we’re thrilled for her. When Kitty breaks her heart, we can’t believe that could happen to her. Reduced to poverty, Nancy sells back-alley handjobs to furtive strangers. Then stumbles into the exact opposite – a heady mix of wealth, indulgence and luxury as the sexual consort of the imperious Diana Lethaby. And through it all, she’s nothing less than admirable – admirably giving, admirably practical, admirably self-preserving, admirably accepting, admirably sexual.

The last section of the story, where Nancy is taken in by the charitable and businesslike Florence (and her brother Ralph) at first feels like a letdown after the headiness of the music halls and blueblood orgies she’s previously experienced. But every lesson she’s learned, every attitude she strikes, every choice she now makes, is informed by everything we’ve been through with her. Even if these late chapters feel a little rushed and preachy, they are nonetheless honestly arrived at, and immensely satisfying.

This is the first of four novels that Sarah Waters has written, and all have terrific word-of-mouth. I intend to check out these others as well. My impression is that this, and ‘Fingersmith’, are the raciest, and I want to emphasize that as well as being wonderfully written novels for any genre, Sarah Waters writes some of the hottest sex scenes I’ve encountered. I can’t help but think of a ‘Law and Order’ episode featuring a lesbian writer who describes the reactions of most men towards her sexual proclivities – “they’re either ‘That’s Disgusting’ or ‘Can I Watch?'”. Nancy and Kitty, Nancy and Diana, Nancy and Zena, Nancy and Florence – trust me, you’ll wish you could watch.

Highly recommended.

Movies – Mix

Posted by jdewitte on

There are some films that you know are going to be brainless popcorn trash, and you just don’t care. There’s that elemental something that particular trash has that’s irresistible. For many, this includes the Scary, Date, Superhero, etc. Movie series, or Eddie Murphy or the Wayans brothers. You know exactly what it’s gonna be, and you’re in. You know it’ll be unbelievably gimmicky (Jason Statham’s Transporter films), tawdry as hell (I Know Who Killed Me) or just plain assaultive (your torture porn title here). And, except for the Lohan film (which I’m sure is raking in the DVD rentals even as we speak, ala ‘Showgirls’), they all make tons of money relative to their production cost. Resident Evil : Extinction, and its predecessors, is a guilty pleasure of mine for two reasons. First, let me say that they are singularly unoriginal. But director Paul W.S. Anderson so shamelessly rips off so many different movies, and combines these myriad ideas in such a Waring blender fashion, that you don’t have time to so much as sigh, tsk, or roll your eyes before the next stolen idea tugs at your shirtsleeve. James Cameron, George Romero, Ridley Scott, Wachowski Brothers, George Miller, Danny Boyle, Wes Craven, John McTiernan – the list of the plundered is seemingly endless. It’s a little like the Ewan MacGregor / Nicole Kidman parapet duet in ‘Moulin Rouge’ – so many bits and pieces of song, so many cultural signifiers, so many associations, are referenced so quickly and seamlessly that it transcends the source parts and becomes some other kind of whole (If only the rest of the movie had succeeded like that …). The other reason, of course, is Milla Jovovich, who, like Jason Statham, is a limited actor who you can’t take your eyes off of onscreen. They just have a singular mix of animal physicality with Vogue / GQ good looks, and the camera loves them. They are both avid martial artists, and they both do most of their own stunts, which is why Kate Beckinsale is overtrained eye-candy in boutique leather while these two deliver the real goods. Jovovich commits – there isn’t a whiff of camp or a knowing wink anywhere near her performance. Like I said, these movies are not good films by any stretch, but if you know what you want, and you want this, skip that Saw sequel or that seventies remake or that diluted Japanese knockoff and have some real fun instead.

Mervyn Peake’s three Gormenghast novels are rightly revered in the fantasy realm for the evocation of a mind-bogglingly rich world of the elegantly grotesque. No monsters, no space or time travel, no aberrant psychological horrors, no fairies or goblins – just uniquely odd people in uniquely odd circumstances. I try to stay away from the word Dickensian, but it sure fits here. The scale and detail of the world of Gormenghast, and the faintly identifiable tone of the dark political and familial intriques therein, are as addictive, I suspect, as anything Dorothy Dunnett, Patrick O’Brien, or J.P. Rowling has produced. It’s a damn shame Peake only created it in these three books, but they are, I submit, mandatory reading for anyone who likes reading anything. So I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the BBC had done a miniseries adaptation of the books, directed by TV series veteran Andy Wilson, and subsequently disappointed to discover why it wasn’t more well known. The actors all triumph – Ian Richardson, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, Neve MacIntosh, Christopher Lee, John Sessions, Fiona Shaw, Celia Imrie, Richard Griffiths, Zoe Wanamaker, Lynsey Baxter – whew! – but it’s indifferently art-directed, which makes its less-than-epic budget conspicuous. They chose to back off of Peake’s relentlessly macabre tone and introduce silly concepts like sunlight and green – y’know, like nature. Too many easy choices, too few risks, too much abridgement. If you know the books, see it for the performances (and whatever happened to Neve MacIntosh, anyway? Casting directors – snap out of it!). I can’t recommend it otherwise.

I found Chuck and Buck to be surprisingly admirable considering it’s one of the most uncomfortable, squirm-inducing character studies I’ve ever sat through. And I dare say that feeling will be common to most of the heterosexual male adults who see this film. Buck is an eternal adolescent, blissfully happy to stay as close to twelve years old as reality will allow him to. When his mother dies, he reconnects with Chuck, his boyhood friend who has gone on to greener adult pastures – a loving fiancee, a swank home and a high-powered job. But Buck loves Chuck – longingly, passionately, obsessively, and when Chuck gives Buck an inch … creepiness ensues – or does it? Because throughout the film, you’re slowly and consistently convinced to really see Buck for who he is, and how his experiences have shaped him. You keep wanting him to grow up, but you gain more and more sympathy with the things he’s not interested in losing by doing that. But I don’t want to give you the impression that it’s maudlin, or darkly whimsical, like Tim Burton or Robin Williams. Mike White, who plays Buck, wrote this as well, and went on to write some ‘Freaks and Geeks’ TV episodes, ‘School Of Rock’, ‘The Good Girl’, and another cult favorite, ‘Year Of The Dog’, all indicative of White’s skilled balancing of the outward mechanics of growing up in America with the deeply emotional obsessions even the best of us always carry around, acknowledged or hidden. Recommended.

David Fincher’s Zodiac has many admirers, and they’re admiring things I appreciated as well. Where we differ is the believability of Jake Gyllenhall’s performance. I just didn’t believe him for a second. And when you spend this much time following one character’s obsessiveness, no matter how compelling the subject, you’d better be following a character who’s reasonably compelling himself.

Similar issues arose with The Illusionist. Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti do their always reliable best, (I love to watch pros work) in the service of a really good story artfully adapted and filmed by Neil Burger. But the usually solid Rufus Sewell wasn’t able to enrich the Snidely Whiplash-like Crown Prince, and I’m still waiting for Jessica Biel to exhibit any genuinely demonstrable acting chops whatsover. There are some engaging contradictions to Sophie’s character that are ripe for portrayal – Biel either couldn’t present them, or couldn’t find them in the first place.

Finally, the inevitable French film. But I dare you to go out and get some Priceless without having more fun than your last ten Hollywood comedies. Yes, I said ten, Apatow be damned. There are reasons for this. Audrey Tautou is one big reason. Her Moroccan co-star, Gad Elmaleh, is another. It’s a movie about Grown-Ups, thank God! Hollywood seems to think only teenagers, yuppies and old people are funny (unless you’re James L. Brooks, granted). And it draws from timeless genre conventions, not just popular culture over the last year. This story could be set present day, as a thirties screwball comedy, or a nineteenth-century farce. It’s human, it’s universal, it’s identifiable, it’s all the stuff Garry Marshall will never get anywhere near, regardless of how much box office he generates anyway. It’s no ‘Thin Man’, but God bless director Pierre Salvadori for aspiring to that. Go, damnit, go!