The International Percussion Collage Showcase, presented by the Kalamazoo College Music Department on Wednesday, February 25th, managed to be an intimate, educational, and inspiring event, despite being held in the FAB’s sometimes-cavernous Dalton Theater.
The event consisted of performances by four separate groups, each inspired by the percussion styles of four different cultures. Though each act presented was very distinct from the others in both style and sound, together the four gave the audience an excellent sampling of traditional percussion from around the world.
The Mridangam Ensemble, composed of members Anjelika Derhgawen K’12, Russell Becker K’09, and K community member Tom Nehil, performed first. Nehil also gave an introduction to the mridangam, which is a traditional Indian double sided-drum played for different sounds on each side. This “lesson” added to the informality of the showcase. It seemed an odd choice for the showcase’s first act, since the mridangam’s sound isn’t very loud and doesn’t immediately capture a listener’s attention. However, it was effective, as its flat, echo-y tones and the subtle harmonies of the two songs played drew the audience into a trance-like state and allowed listeners to be easily drawn in to what would become a more commanding concert by following acts.
The marimba duo that followed wasn’t quite that yet; however, this was certainly not a detriment. Students Esperanza Cantu K’11 and Cait Sherman K’09 gave an enrapturing, and haunting performance of two songs from Brazilian composer Ney Rosauro, entitled “Atirei o Pau no Gato” and “Todo o mundo passa.” The simple melodies and childlike wonder of the slower-paced songs shifted from major to minor with ease, and the musicians never missed a note. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case when the two women switched marimbas during the songs, causing abrupt, awkward pauses. Otherwise, the performance was flawless, and brought the audience still deeper into communion with the musical acts.
The showcase took a turn for the spiritual when Western Michigan University’s Brazilian Capoeira group took the stage. As the group’s leader explained, Capoeira is an Afro-Brazilian martial art practiced by South American slaves disguised to look like a dance.
What followed after the introduction was at times uplifting, trance-like, and at all times completely graceful on the part of the performers. The ten or so members of the group playfought, cartwheeled, and did headstands, accompanied by two berimbaus – bowlike instruments that sounded like sitars – and a bongo. It was strikingly beautiful, and as the group’s music and performance picked up speed and momentum toward the end, it was a perfect transition into the Kalamazoo Taiko Ensemble’s act.
The group, led by Kouri Akagi K’11, literally shook the seats of Dalton Theater with its two songs. As the twenty or so members of the ensemble, playing in groups of three around five drums, switched off during the first song, it really felt like a battle of the drums. However, it was easy to tell who the senior, more proficient members of the group were – these were the ones who played first and against each other. But, this was the only flaw in an outstanding. The booming, thunderous sounds of the taiko drums filled the ears, leaving an impression not soon to be forgotten.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Practical Eco-Friendly Products
Find the original article here.
I found this piece - and the ideas it details - really interesting, and something that could become quite important in the future. Superficially it looks like a review of Tom Szaky's new book, Revolution in a Bottle, but in reality it provides a good summary of what eco-capitalist Szaky does and how he started up his company. A small degree of analysis is provided in the article's conclusion.
Basically, his company, TerraCycle, creates green products out of what seems like waste. Worm castings (excrement) are used as fertilizer, among other things. What's interesting about this is the fact that it wasn't done simply for the purpose of being green, it was done because this was the cheapest, easiest way to make a profit. Additionally, these products are being sold in larger chains for the same price as regular, non-green products.
It's proof that you can efficiently make a green products and even turn a profit off of them, which is very encouraging while our economy's in the shape that it is.
I found this piece - and the ideas it details - really interesting, and something that could become quite important in the future. Superficially it looks like a review of Tom Szaky's new book, Revolution in a Bottle, but in reality it provides a good summary of what eco-capitalist Szaky does and how he started up his company. A small degree of analysis is provided in the article's conclusion.
Basically, his company, TerraCycle, creates green products out of what seems like waste. Worm castings (excrement) are used as fertilizer, among other things. What's interesting about this is the fact that it wasn't done simply for the purpose of being green, it was done because this was the cheapest, easiest way to make a profit. Additionally, these products are being sold in larger chains for the same price as regular, non-green products.
It's proof that you can efficiently make a green products and even turn a profit off of them, which is very encouraging while our economy's in the shape that it is.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
David Lynch: An Imaginative Force to be Reckoned With
Second draft of the final assignment, final edit.
Convoluted plots, mysterious occurrences, sex and death in their most bizarre forms; these have featured in almost every David Lynch movie since the filmmaker began his career with 1966’s short film “Six Men Getting Sick.”
One would think that Lynch’s mind, responsible for imagining and filming scenes such as a part of a man’s brain being made into pencil erasers and the discovery of a rotting human ear in the middle of a field, would be as full of torment and torture as the scenes themselves. It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described Lynch as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.”
Even so, his movies are often shocking with their high level of bizarre content; they both challenge viewers to interpret their many oddities and entertain audiences with a level of imagination not seen in most Hollywood pictures. As Franz Kafka wrote in a letter to his friend, journalist Oscar Pollak, “I think we ought to read only the kind of books that bite and sting us. If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? […] A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” This is what Lynch has accomplished, for the film medium. His films leave viewers with questions, to which Lynch refuses to give straightforward answers.
Lynch planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe that failed after 15 days. While studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, he was drawn into film. There, still intending to make a career as a visual artist, Lynch made the short animated film “Six Men Getting Sick,” in 1966. It was projected onto one of his sculptures “to make it look as though the painting was alive,” as he said in Tirard’s “Masterclass” book. From there, he received several awards that allowed him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark black and white film. His experiences while working in the city contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, next to a morgue, where he was robbed twice, had windows shot out, and a car stolen. The bleak atmosphere Lynch felt in Philadelphia is present in the dark, industrial ambiance of “Eraserhead,” the story of Henry Spencer (played by frequent Lynch collaborator Jack Nance) and his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In presentation, it’s highly surrealistic, and it’s a great illustration of Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, which have continued throughout his filmmaking career. In one scene, the “baby” has gotten sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s highly reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed short Surrealist film created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. “Eraserhead,” a more experimental, art house film than any of Lynch’s others, thus allowed him to find his own personal voice, and making way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination.
Though Lynch has a recognizable style of his own, utilizing – among other trademarks – dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks (nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti) he is capable of directing films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often chooses to do. His feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story,” were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion. While “Dune” flopped, the two others were commercially successful.
Lynch’s signature is clearly present in these films, though they’re more conventional than most of his movies. For example, at the beginning of “The Elephant Man,” an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination. “Dune” features a scene where the main character Paul Atreides must hold his hand in a box that subjects it to excruciating pain, which is notably difficult to watch.
The fact that these films are more straightforward Lynch films doesn’t mean they don’t challenge viewers to think. “Elephant Man” tells the story of John Merrick, a man with elephantitis who’s treated as a circus freak; it forces the audience to introspect. “The Straight Story” is completely different, but through Alvin Straight’s odyssey across America to make amends with his past – conducted by John Deere riding mower – doesn’t allow viewers to simply shut off their brains while watching. Even these so-called more typical films exhibit a level of creativity not found in the average Hollywood film.
In an age where movies are largely made for profit, not to tell a thought-provoking, entertaining story, the film industry needs more directors like David Lynch. Directors with the ability to create films that shock and surprise us, with meaning sometimes difficult to grasp, without easy answers.
After all, as Kafka wrote to Pollak, “If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? To make us happy […]? [B]ooks that make us happy we could, in a pinch, also write ourselves.” Lynch has given us, from his personal experiences, films that no other individual could – “beauties that pierce like swords or burn like cold iron,” in the words of C.S. Lewis.
Convoluted plots, mysterious occurrences, sex and death in their most bizarre forms; these have featured in almost every David Lynch movie since the filmmaker began his career with 1966’s short film “Six Men Getting Sick.”
One would think that Lynch’s mind, responsible for imagining and filming scenes such as a part of a man’s brain being made into pencil erasers and the discovery of a rotting human ear in the middle of a field, would be as full of torment and torture as the scenes themselves. It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described Lynch as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.”
Even so, his movies are often shocking with their high level of bizarre content; they both challenge viewers to interpret their many oddities and entertain audiences with a level of imagination not seen in most Hollywood pictures. As Franz Kafka wrote in a letter to his friend, journalist Oscar Pollak, “I think we ought to read only the kind of books that bite and sting us. If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? […] A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” This is what Lynch has accomplished, for the film medium. His films leave viewers with questions, to which Lynch refuses to give straightforward answers.
Lynch planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe that failed after 15 days. While studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, he was drawn into film. There, still intending to make a career as a visual artist, Lynch made the short animated film “Six Men Getting Sick,” in 1966. It was projected onto one of his sculptures “to make it look as though the painting was alive,” as he said in Tirard’s “Masterclass” book. From there, he received several awards that allowed him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark black and white film. His experiences while working in the city contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, next to a morgue, where he was robbed twice, had windows shot out, and a car stolen. The bleak atmosphere Lynch felt in Philadelphia is present in the dark, industrial ambiance of “Eraserhead,” the story of Henry Spencer (played by frequent Lynch collaborator Jack Nance) and his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In presentation, it’s highly surrealistic, and it’s a great illustration of Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, which have continued throughout his filmmaking career. In one scene, the “baby” has gotten sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s highly reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed short Surrealist film created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. “Eraserhead,” a more experimental, art house film than any of Lynch’s others, thus allowed him to find his own personal voice, and making way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination.
Though Lynch has a recognizable style of his own, utilizing – among other trademarks – dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks (nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti) he is capable of directing films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often chooses to do. His feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story,” were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion. While “Dune” flopped, the two others were commercially successful.
Lynch’s signature is clearly present in these films, though they’re more conventional than most of his movies. For example, at the beginning of “The Elephant Man,” an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination. “Dune” features a scene where the main character Paul Atreides must hold his hand in a box that subjects it to excruciating pain, which is notably difficult to watch.
The fact that these films are more straightforward Lynch films doesn’t mean they don’t challenge viewers to think. “Elephant Man” tells the story of John Merrick, a man with elephantitis who’s treated as a circus freak; it forces the audience to introspect. “The Straight Story” is completely different, but through Alvin Straight’s odyssey across America to make amends with his past – conducted by John Deere riding mower – doesn’t allow viewers to simply shut off their brains while watching. Even these so-called more typical films exhibit a level of creativity not found in the average Hollywood film.
In an age where movies are largely made for profit, not to tell a thought-provoking, entertaining story, the film industry needs more directors like David Lynch. Directors with the ability to create films that shock and surprise us, with meaning sometimes difficult to grasp, without easy answers.
After all, as Kafka wrote to Pollak, “If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? To make us happy […]? [B]ooks that make us happy we could, in a pinch, also write ourselves.” Lynch has given us, from his personal experiences, films that no other individual could – “beauties that pierce like swords or burn like cold iron,” in the words of C.S. Lewis.
Monday, March 9, 2009
David Lynch: An Individual Talent in Hollywood
Convoluted plots, mysterious occurrences, and sex and death in their most bizarre forms have featured in almost every David Lynch movie since the filmmaker began his career with 1966’s short film “Six Men Getting Sick.” One would think that Lynch’s mind, which has been responsible for imagining and filming scenes such as a man’s brain being made into pencil erasers and the discovery of a rotting human ear in the middle of a field, would be as full of torment and torture as the scenes themselves. His films have odd subject matter, and you might expect the director himself to be as weird as his movies are.
It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described him as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.” His personal life isn’t anywhere near as splashy or public as other directors like Woody Allen or Quentin Tarantino, the former infamous for marrying his former lover Mia Farrow’s adopted daughter Soon-Yi Previn, and the latter notorious for spitting on a reporter at the 1997 Oscars.
Born January 20, 1946, in Missoula, Mont., at first glance Lynch’s upbringing seems as American as apple pie. His family moved all over the country due to his father Donald’s job as a research scientist. The majority of the areas were small towns, settings that show up frequently in Lynch’s work, including feature film “Blue Velvet” and ABC television drama “Twin Peaks.” Lynch was a Boy Scout and received its highest rank, Eagle Scout, as well as serving as an usher for John F. Kennedy’s presidential inauguration at age fifteen. Even in later life, he remained rather straight-laced: though Dennis Hopper’s character, Frank Booth, in “Blue Velvet” swears profusely, never once was Lynch heard to utter any of Booth’s obscenities himself.
He planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe, but eventually found himself drawn into film while studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. There, still intending to make a career out of being an artist in the more traditional sense, Lynch made a short animated film, called “Six Men Getting Sick,” to be projected onto one of his sculptures in 1966. “[T]he idea was to make it look as though the painting was alive,” Lynch has said. From there, he received several awards that made it possible for him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark, black and white, film. Everything he experienced while working in the town contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, and the film reflects that. It’s the story of Henry Spencer, played by Jack Nance, and his interactions with as well as his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In its presentation, it’s highly surrealistic – at one point, a miniature chicken which Jack is attempting to carve for his girlfriend’s family starts to move its legs up and down of its own accord and begins spewing dark fluid from its abdominal cavity. Spencer also fantasizes about a lady within his radiator with cheeks abnormally puffy, who sings to him and stomps on creatures that look nearly identical to the mutant baby.
In one scene, the “baby” gets sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed Surrealist created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. As such, “Eraserhead” allowed Lynch to find his own personal voice, and paved the way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, the mother of the titular character is trampled by an elephant, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what seems to be a hallucination.
Though Lynch clearly has a style of his own, utilizing dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks – nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti – he is certainly able to direct films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often likes to do. This is exemplified by his feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story.” These movies were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion, and were both commercially successful.
Lynch has been of great importance to the filmmaking industry since he started filming in 1966. For the most part, he writes his own films, thus giving him the power to tell his own stories, share his own visions with his audience. He’s significant because throughout his career, he’s fought to make films according to what he wants to do, without studio intervention.
The few times he’s gone astray from his original ideas, he’s greatly regretted it. In his television series, “Twin Peaks,” he planned never to reveal the identity of Laura Palmer’s murderer, but in the end was forced to do so by studio heads. He then lost interest in the show and it was canceled soon after. Additionally, Lynch directed “Dune” without having final authority about what would stay in the film, and “was so damaged by the result that it took […] three years before [he] could make another film.”
This is why Lynch advises new directors to never “go against your own pleasure and your own vision” in making a film, and never to try to please everyone. Though Lynch isn’t as odd or flashy as other directors in Hollywood today, he is unique in letting his films speak for themselves, letting audiences determine their meanings for themselves, without directorial comment. In this respect, and for his bizarre yet wonderful films, he’s truly made a lasting impact on audiences, other filmmakers, and even Hollywood for good.
It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described him as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.” His personal life isn’t anywhere near as splashy or public as other directors like Woody Allen or Quentin Tarantino, the former infamous for marrying his former lover Mia Farrow’s adopted daughter Soon-Yi Previn, and the latter notorious for spitting on a reporter at the 1997 Oscars.
Born January 20, 1946, in Missoula, Mont., at first glance Lynch’s upbringing seems as American as apple pie. His family moved all over the country due to his father Donald’s job as a research scientist. The majority of the areas were small towns, settings that show up frequently in Lynch’s work, including feature film “Blue Velvet” and ABC television drama “Twin Peaks.” Lynch was a Boy Scout and received its highest rank, Eagle Scout, as well as serving as an usher for John F. Kennedy’s presidential inauguration at age fifteen. Even in later life, he remained rather straight-laced: though Dennis Hopper’s character, Frank Booth, in “Blue Velvet” swears profusely, never once was Lynch heard to utter any of Booth’s obscenities himself.
He planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe, but eventually found himself drawn into film while studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. There, still intending to make a career out of being an artist in the more traditional sense, Lynch made a short animated film, called “Six Men Getting Sick,” to be projected onto one of his sculptures in 1966. “[T]he idea was to make it look as though the painting was alive,” Lynch has said. From there, he received several awards that made it possible for him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark, black and white, film. Everything he experienced while working in the town contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, and the film reflects that. It’s the story of Henry Spencer, played by Jack Nance, and his interactions with as well as his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In its presentation, it’s highly surrealistic – at one point, a miniature chicken which Jack is attempting to carve for his girlfriend’s family starts to move its legs up and down of its own accord and begins spewing dark fluid from its abdominal cavity. Spencer also fantasizes about a lady within his radiator with cheeks abnormally puffy, who sings to him and stomps on creatures that look nearly identical to the mutant baby.
In one scene, the “baby” gets sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed Surrealist created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. As such, “Eraserhead” allowed Lynch to find his own personal voice, and paved the way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, the mother of the titular character is trampled by an elephant, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what seems to be a hallucination.
Though Lynch clearly has a style of his own, utilizing dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks – nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti – he is certainly able to direct films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often likes to do. This is exemplified by his feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story.” These movies were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion, and were both commercially successful.
Lynch has been of great importance to the filmmaking industry since he started filming in 1966. For the most part, he writes his own films, thus giving him the power to tell his own stories, share his own visions with his audience. He’s significant because throughout his career, he’s fought to make films according to what he wants to do, without studio intervention.
The few times he’s gone astray from his original ideas, he’s greatly regretted it. In his television series, “Twin Peaks,” he planned never to reveal the identity of Laura Palmer’s murderer, but in the end was forced to do so by studio heads. He then lost interest in the show and it was canceled soon after. Additionally, Lynch directed “Dune” without having final authority about what would stay in the film, and “was so damaged by the result that it took […] three years before [he] could make another film.”
This is why Lynch advises new directors to never “go against your own pleasure and your own vision” in making a film, and never to try to please everyone. Though Lynch isn’t as odd or flashy as other directors in Hollywood today, he is unique in letting his films speak for themselves, letting audiences determine their meanings for themselves, without directorial comment. In this respect, and for his bizarre yet wonderful films, he’s truly made a lasting impact on audiences, other filmmakers, and even Hollywood for good.
Monday, February 23, 2009
The 2008 Oscars; Taking Some Hints from the Grammys?
This year’s Oscars were different from any show previous. The divergence was clear – this program had more music than ever before. Perhaps in an imitation of this year’s Grammys, which also had the most musical performances in its history, the Oscars had a penchant for bringing music back, in a bid to attract more viewers to a more song and dance oriented spectacle.
The Oscars were surprising in several other ways as well. Hugh Jackman, most famed for his turn as the X-Men mutant superhero Wolverine, exhibited none of that super masculine aura, instead offering a lighthearted, musically inspired side.
Surprisingly entertaining, he added to the event’s spectacle by singing, dancing, and joking his way through the awards ceremony. As he sang in the show’s opening number, “[N]o recession can stop my confession, or silence my song.” While Jackman was onstage, nothing did, though he was seen relatively little during the program compared to hosts of previous years.
The show was different from previous Oscars in other ways, which worked to both advantage and disadvantage. In an attempt to attract more viewers and keep them glued to the screen, as well as prevent the program from becoming stale and boring over the years, these Oscars featured more musical performances than any other.
Jackman sang and danced in both his opening number with Anne Hathaway, and a number dedicated to the return of the musical, which featured the young couples from 2008’s “Mamma Mia!” and teen hit “High School Musical 3.” Though these were well done, they also unfortunately added to the runtime of the show, making the creators of the Oscars break their promise of keeping the show under three and a half hours.
A medley of the three songs nominated for Best Song was a highlight, featuring exceptional performances from John Legend and A.R. Rahman. Choreography of the dancers in the background added to the sights and sounds of the whole affair. This worked to wake a sleepy viewer up in the midst of commercials and drawn-out presenters.
Celebrity musical accompaniment was again used to mixed effect during the “In Memoriam” segment, which paid tribute to those in the filmmaking industry who passed away during 2008. Queen Latifah sang an excellent rendition of “I’ll Be Seeing You,” which was neither overwrought nor underdone. However, it distracted from the simplicity of the memorial montage, making it more about Latifah’s performance than the people being remembered. At times, it was difficult to make out names on the screen or see the figures because of the zoomed out camera angle.
There were no real surprises in the awards themselves, however. Danny Boyle’s “Slumdog Millionaire” swept, taking eight awards, including those for Best Picture, Director, Cinematography, and Adapted Screenplay. As expected, Heath Ledger won Best Supporting Actor for his outstanding performance in “The Dark Knight;” Sean Penn and Kate Winslet were no surprises in the Best Actor and Actress categories. The only small departure from what was expected was in the Foreign-Language Film category, where Japan’s “Departures” trumped Israel’s “Waltz With Bashir.”
The Oscars this year were charmingly surprising in terms of musical influence. But overall, the show and spectacle came across as overblown. In today’s tough economic times, the Academy might have chosen a more modest approach.
The Oscars were surprising in several other ways as well. Hugh Jackman, most famed for his turn as the X-Men mutant superhero Wolverine, exhibited none of that super masculine aura, instead offering a lighthearted, musically inspired side.
Surprisingly entertaining, he added to the event’s spectacle by singing, dancing, and joking his way through the awards ceremony. As he sang in the show’s opening number, “[N]o recession can stop my confession, or silence my song.” While Jackman was onstage, nothing did, though he was seen relatively little during the program compared to hosts of previous years.
The show was different from previous Oscars in other ways, which worked to both advantage and disadvantage. In an attempt to attract more viewers and keep them glued to the screen, as well as prevent the program from becoming stale and boring over the years, these Oscars featured more musical performances than any other.
Jackman sang and danced in both his opening number with Anne Hathaway, and a number dedicated to the return of the musical, which featured the young couples from 2008’s “Mamma Mia!” and teen hit “High School Musical 3.” Though these were well done, they also unfortunately added to the runtime of the show, making the creators of the Oscars break their promise of keeping the show under three and a half hours.
A medley of the three songs nominated for Best Song was a highlight, featuring exceptional performances from John Legend and A.R. Rahman. Choreography of the dancers in the background added to the sights and sounds of the whole affair. This worked to wake a sleepy viewer up in the midst of commercials and drawn-out presenters.
Celebrity musical accompaniment was again used to mixed effect during the “In Memoriam” segment, which paid tribute to those in the filmmaking industry who passed away during 2008. Queen Latifah sang an excellent rendition of “I’ll Be Seeing You,” which was neither overwrought nor underdone. However, it distracted from the simplicity of the memorial montage, making it more about Latifah’s performance than the people being remembered. At times, it was difficult to make out names on the screen or see the figures because of the zoomed out camera angle.
There were no real surprises in the awards themselves, however. Danny Boyle’s “Slumdog Millionaire” swept, taking eight awards, including those for Best Picture, Director, Cinematography, and Adapted Screenplay. As expected, Heath Ledger won Best Supporting Actor for his outstanding performance in “The Dark Knight;” Sean Penn and Kate Winslet were no surprises in the Best Actor and Actress categories. The only small departure from what was expected was in the Foreign-Language Film category, where Japan’s “Departures” trumped Israel’s “Waltz With Bashir.”
The Oscars this year were charmingly surprising in terms of musical influence. But overall, the show and spectacle came across as overblown. In today’s tough economic times, the Academy might have chosen a more modest approach.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Edited Review Outline
The review in a nutshell: introduction as to what the album is, a little background on Andrew Bird and a couple of other artists provided for reference; what makes the album distinct; what brings the album together; specific examples provided throughout (i.e. alliteration, ability to play with language). Small amount of wrap-up, information about companion disc, "Useless Creatures."
A Plethora of Sound Available on “Noble Beast” Part Deux
Andrew Bird has done it again. With his newest release, “Noble Beast,” the Chicago-based singer-songwriter has created another unique and diverse album, influenced by everything from the singer’s classical training to sounds heard on his Illinois farm. The result is a record that’s gentler and mellower in comparison to his earlier work.
The follow-up to Bird’s 2007 “Armchair Apocrypha,” itself critically acclaimed, this new record was self-produced. It bears comparison to other folk/indie rock albums such as Sufjan Steven’s “Come On Feel The Illinoise!” or Iron & Wine’s “Woman King,” both 2005 releases.
But what makes this disc great is the diversity of tracks it contains; every song is different. It opens with the infectious, fast-paced, “Oh No,” partly inspired by a child’s cries on an airplane. The track automatically hooks the listener with Bird’s characteristic whistling and wide range of vocals.
Contrast this with the more electric feel of “Not A Robot, But A Ghost,” which makes effective use of oboe and a crackling electric guitar. The song and Bird’s voice at its highest are oddly similar to “Gong,” by Icelandic slow-motion rockers Sigur Ros. Similarly, “Fitz and Dizzyspells” utilizes an electric violin to draw the listener into the song.
Bird has been inspired by vastly different sources in making this record. Trips to Chicago’s Field Museum and the Garfield Park conservatory were responsible for the folk-influenced ballad “Natural History.” In an odd twist, the introduction to “Souverian” bears an uncanny resemblance to the start of The Buena Vista Social Club’s “Pueblo Nuevo.” Whether this similarity was intentional is debatable – however, jazz was a large influence in Andrew Bird’s earlier career, so it’s possible.
Despite differences between individual songs throughout the album, the common thread of Bird’s voice, violin (and guitar) plucking and playing, and distinctive whistling unify this collection. His vocals are often given an echo effect, with tracks becoming spectral and inspiring as a result. The warm, rumbling drumming of Martin Dosh and the various instruments of the multitalented Jeremy Ylvisaker (including organ, shortwave, and guitar), also tie the album together.
Another subtle instrument that Bird uses to fashion this record into a whole is his ability to play with language. On “Noble Beast,” he shows a fascination with words. Whether it’s the “salsify mains” and “calcified arythmatists” of “Oh No,” the “proto-Sanskrit Minoans and porto-centric Lisboans” from “Tenuousness,” or the kittens with pleurisy in “Natural History,” it’s clear that Bird has a penchant for toying with odd words. More remarkable is his ability to use them fluidly in his songs without sounding clunky or awkward.
Use of alliteration adds to this sense of playing with language as well. “Fitz and Dizzyness” gives the listener “crooks and craggy cliffs” while “Masterswarm features “flailing feudal fleas feeding from the arms of the master.” Together with Bird’s wikipedia-worthy references, this creates an engaging aural experience that rewards close listeners, making this an increasingly satisfying record on repeat listenings. “Noble Beast” can be purchased on its own or in a deluxe edition that includes its companion instrumental disc, “Useless Creatures.”
The follow-up to Bird’s 2007 “Armchair Apocrypha,” itself critically acclaimed, this new record was self-produced. It bears comparison to other folk/indie rock albums such as Sufjan Steven’s “Come On Feel The Illinoise!” or Iron & Wine’s “Woman King,” both 2005 releases.
But what makes this disc great is the diversity of tracks it contains; every song is different. It opens with the infectious, fast-paced, “Oh No,” partly inspired by a child’s cries on an airplane. The track automatically hooks the listener with Bird’s characteristic whistling and wide range of vocals.
Contrast this with the more electric feel of “Not A Robot, But A Ghost,” which makes effective use of oboe and a crackling electric guitar. The song and Bird’s voice at its highest are oddly similar to “Gong,” by Icelandic slow-motion rockers Sigur Ros. Similarly, “Fitz and Dizzyspells” utilizes an electric violin to draw the listener into the song.
Bird has been inspired by vastly different sources in making this record. Trips to Chicago’s Field Museum and the Garfield Park conservatory were responsible for the folk-influenced ballad “Natural History.” In an odd twist, the introduction to “Souverian” bears an uncanny resemblance to the start of The Buena Vista Social Club’s “Pueblo Nuevo.” Whether this similarity was intentional is debatable – however, jazz was a large influence in Andrew Bird’s earlier career, so it’s possible.
Despite differences between individual songs throughout the album, the common thread of Bird’s voice, violin (and guitar) plucking and playing, and distinctive whistling unify this collection. His vocals are often given an echo effect, with tracks becoming spectral and inspiring as a result. The warm, rumbling drumming of Martin Dosh and the various instruments of the multitalented Jeremy Ylvisaker (including organ, shortwave, and guitar), also tie the album together.
Another subtle instrument that Bird uses to fashion this record into a whole is his ability to play with language. On “Noble Beast,” he shows a fascination with words. Whether it’s the “salsify mains” and “calcified arythmatists” of “Oh No,” the “proto-Sanskrit Minoans and porto-centric Lisboans” from “Tenuousness,” or the kittens with pleurisy in “Natural History,” it’s clear that Bird has a penchant for toying with odd words. More remarkable is his ability to use them fluidly in his songs without sounding clunky or awkward.
Use of alliteration adds to this sense of playing with language as well. “Fitz and Dizzyness” gives the listener “crooks and craggy cliffs” while “Masterswarm features “flailing feudal fleas feeding from the arms of the master.” Together with Bird’s wikipedia-worthy references, this creates an engaging aural experience that rewards close listeners, making this an increasingly satisfying record on repeat listenings. “Noble Beast” can be purchased on its own or in a deluxe edition that includes its companion instrumental disc, “Useless Creatures.”
Thursday, February 5, 2009
A Plethora of Sound Available on “Noble Beast” (1st version)
Andrew Bird has done it again. With his latest release, “Noble Beast,” he’s created an album composed of a diverse group of songs influenced by everything from the singer’s classical training, to sounds heard on his Illinois farm, to a small child’s cries on an airplane trip. The result is simply fantastic.
What makes this record truly great is the widely different array of tracks it contains. Every song is different. It opens with the infectiously catchy, fast-paced, “Oh No,” which was partly inspired by a child’s cries on an airplane. The track almost automatically hooks the listener with Bird’s characteristic whistling and vocals. Contrast this with the more electric feel of “Not A Robot, But A Ghost,” which makes effective use of oboe and a crackling electric guitar. The song and Bird’s voice at its highest range are oddly similar to “Gong,” by Icelandic slow-motion rockers Sigur Ros. Similarly, “Fitz and Dizzyspells” utilizes an electric violin to bring the listened into the song.
The album also contains more traditonally inspired songs. Trips to Chicago’s Field Museum and the Garfield Park conservatory were partly responsible for the folk-influenced ballad “Natural History.” Looking still further back, the introduction to “Souverian” bears an uncanny resemblance to the start of The Buena Vista Social Club’s “Pueblo Nuevo.” Whether this similarity was intentional is debatable – Andrew Bird is known to have been highly influenced by jazz earlier in his career.
Despite the differences between songs throughout the album, the common thread of Bird’s voice, violin plucking and playing, and distinctive whistling unify this collection. Quite often the vocals are given an echo effect; this can be heard on tracks such as “Oh No,” “Masterswarm,” “Fitz and the Dizzyspells,” “The Privateer,” and “Souverian.” The result is spectral and inspiring. The warm, rumbling drumming of Martin Dosh and the various instruments of the multitalented Jeremy Ylvisaker (including organ, shortwave, and guitar), also help tie the album together.
Another subtle instrument that Bird uses to fashion this record into a whole is his ability to play with language. On “Noble Beast,” he clearly shows a fascination with words, even if they’re being used for their texture and not their context. Whether it’s the “salsify mains” and “calcified arythmatists” of “Oh No,” the “proto-Sanskrit Minoans and porto-centric Lisboans” from “Tenuousness,” or the kittens with pleurisy in “Natural History,” it’s obvious that Bird has a penchant for playing with odd words. Even more remarkable is his ability to make them work in his songs without sounding clunky or awkward.
The use of alliteration adds to this sense of playing with language as well. “Fitz and Dizzyness” gives the listener “crooks and craggy cliffs” while “Masterswarm features “flailing feudal fleas feeding from the arms of the master.” Together with Bird’s wikipedia-worthy references, this creates an engaging aural experience that rewards close listeners.
For Andrew Bird fans, “Noble Beast” is an absolute necessity. Those looking to get into his music would do well to purchase it as well. And for the true fans, there’s a deluxe edition available, with a copy of the entirely instrumental companion disk, “Useless Creatures,” included. Both are a fantastic addition to any collection.
What makes this record truly great is the widely different array of tracks it contains. Every song is different. It opens with the infectiously catchy, fast-paced, “Oh No,” which was partly inspired by a child’s cries on an airplane. The track almost automatically hooks the listener with Bird’s characteristic whistling and vocals. Contrast this with the more electric feel of “Not A Robot, But A Ghost,” which makes effective use of oboe and a crackling electric guitar. The song and Bird’s voice at its highest range are oddly similar to “Gong,” by Icelandic slow-motion rockers Sigur Ros. Similarly, “Fitz and Dizzyspells” utilizes an electric violin to bring the listened into the song.
The album also contains more traditonally inspired songs. Trips to Chicago’s Field Museum and the Garfield Park conservatory were partly responsible for the folk-influenced ballad “Natural History.” Looking still further back, the introduction to “Souverian” bears an uncanny resemblance to the start of The Buena Vista Social Club’s “Pueblo Nuevo.” Whether this similarity was intentional is debatable – Andrew Bird is known to have been highly influenced by jazz earlier in his career.
Despite the differences between songs throughout the album, the common thread of Bird’s voice, violin plucking and playing, and distinctive whistling unify this collection. Quite often the vocals are given an echo effect; this can be heard on tracks such as “Oh No,” “Masterswarm,” “Fitz and the Dizzyspells,” “The Privateer,” and “Souverian.” The result is spectral and inspiring. The warm, rumbling drumming of Martin Dosh and the various instruments of the multitalented Jeremy Ylvisaker (including organ, shortwave, and guitar), also help tie the album together.
Another subtle instrument that Bird uses to fashion this record into a whole is his ability to play with language. On “Noble Beast,” he clearly shows a fascination with words, even if they’re being used for their texture and not their context. Whether it’s the “salsify mains” and “calcified arythmatists” of “Oh No,” the “proto-Sanskrit Minoans and porto-centric Lisboans” from “Tenuousness,” or the kittens with pleurisy in “Natural History,” it’s obvious that Bird has a penchant for playing with odd words. Even more remarkable is his ability to make them work in his songs without sounding clunky or awkward.
The use of alliteration adds to this sense of playing with language as well. “Fitz and Dizzyness” gives the listener “crooks and craggy cliffs” while “Masterswarm features “flailing feudal fleas feeding from the arms of the master.” Together with Bird’s wikipedia-worthy references, this creates an engaging aural experience that rewards close listeners.
For Andrew Bird fans, “Noble Beast” is an absolute necessity. Those looking to get into his music would do well to purchase it as well. And for the true fans, there’s a deluxe edition available, with a copy of the entirely instrumental companion disk, “Useless Creatures,” included. Both are a fantastic addition to any collection.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Response to Wilde's "The Critic as Artist"
Oscar Wilde's positions on how the critic functions in art seem to fly in the face of what one would conventionally think; on closer inspection and explanation, however, they're perfectly logical.
Among the most controversial is his statement that "[i]t is very much more difficult to talk about a thing than to do it." In other words, it's harder to critique an action or subject than it was to complete that action or create that subject. Another contestable claim is his position that "the highest Criticism [...] is, in its way, more creative than creation," that analysis of, say, a statue, is more creative than the fashioning of the statue itself.
Wilde also makes claims that criticism is necessary to foster truly good works of art; without criticism there can be no art, though it can exist without art. In addition, he states that criticism is higher than art because it lends the art form interpretations that the artist may not have intended.
In using a dialogue between two characters, the structure of this essay is unique. It also allows Wilde to make his points in an easily accessible way: Gilbert is clearly more intellectual than Ernest, and as such is trying to make his argument such that Ernest can understand it. So, we are put in the shoes of Ernest, and made to see everything the way Wilde, through the voice of Gilbert, wants us to. The subject's also more entertaining as presented, and reminiscent of the works of the ancient Greek philosophers.
I do agree with Wilde's position in this case, though perhaps not to the extreme extent in which he's written it. Criticism does foster the arts, by encouraging what is good to continue and discouraging what is bad. It also spurs artists on to attempt new forms of creation, in its best form. And it is true that the interpretations critics can lend to works of art lift the greatest criticisms above the works themselves, as they require a degree of creativity sometimes higher than the artist exhibited in their creation.
Having done a minimal amount of reviewing myself, I also agree that it's really difficult to do a good critique of anything. Actions are often committed in the heat of the moment, inspired by passion or other emotions, and thus in many cases would seem easier than the process of writing. So I'm with Wilde in that it's harder to write than to do. The one area where I'd contest him a little is his supreme emphasis on criticism as more creative than creation. Criticism is highly valuable and creative, but to the extent he glorifies it, I'm not in agreement with him.
Advice From "Elements Of Style"
I'd like to incorporate Strunk and White's advice about omitting needless words into my writing. More than I'd like to admit, I'll use unnecessary words only for the purpose of reaching the necessary word count, or the required amount of pages. Reducing my verbosity, therefore, entails more than just cutting down on superfluous content in my writing; this means I'll have to get to work on projects earlier, so I'll have time to put in more content and less fluff. This gives me the ability to edit out the words I then won't need.
The section on "Misused Words and Expressions" can help me as well. Since it acts basically as a condensed version of the AP Stylebook (minus a great deal of the technical aspects, and obviously not so in-depth), this section makes for great reference material on those niggling details that a writer often forgets. Additionally, the advice given often provides ways to cut back on unnecessary words, another tool that I can use to reach my goal of writing more vitally.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
"Taxi to the Dark Side" Shocks and Enlightens
Alex Gibney's 2007 documentary film "Taxi to the Dark Side" provides a darkly illuminating glimpse into the heart of the most notorious U.S. controlled prisons in this new century.The film, which Gibney directed, wrote, narrated, and produced, won the 2008 Oscar for Best Documentary. At its core is the story of an Afghani taxi driver known as Dilawar, who in 2002 was killed as the result of torture he suffered at the hands of American soldiers in Afghanistan's Bagram Air Base.
Through Dilawar's story, "Taxi to the Dark Side" explores the torture used on suspected terrorists in the infamous Abu Ghraib prison and Guantanamo Bay detention center, as well as taking a close look at what happened in Bagram itself. Utilizing a combination of archived footage of past interviews, dramatizations of the film's events, and interviews with U.S. soldiers who worked in the prisons as well as with a former Bagram detainee, the film works to provide a convincing and heartstopping portrayal of the atrocities that were committed under U.S. orders.
The film asks the hard questions: "Why is torture being utilized, despite the restricting guidelines of the Geneva Conventions?," "Who is responsible for the orders to torture?," and, more subtly, but very importantly, "How can these soldiers, seemingly normal people, be responsible for such cruelty?" And it answers them all, providing solid evidence throughout.
One such scene that highlights this concrete evidence is a snippet from an archived interview the late Tim Russert conducted with former vice president Dick Cheney, which also provides part of the film's title. Conducted only days after the September 11th attacks, the clip sends chills down the spine in capturing Cheney declaring "we also have to work the dark side, if you will. We've got to spend time in the shadows in the intelligence world."
This leads one to question just how far the U.S. should go in order to protect itself from would-be terrorists, and thoughts about how long one can be immersed in these dehumanizing procedures before being corrupted by them. Indeed, several former guards and interrogators speak of how some were driven to "go beyond the pale," in interrogations, and how while in the prison system "you lose your moral bearings" and are "morally isolated" from society.
All that matters while in these detention centers is getting information out of the detainees in the easiest way possible. In this, the film is similar to Francis Ford Coppola's 1979 "Apocalypse Now," which provides a perfect example of the ideal soldier, Walter Kurtz, and his slow descent into madness after considerable exposure to the horrors of war and the utter primality of human nature. These soldiers have experienced a lighter version of the degradations committed in Cambodia, and the photographs of prisoner abuse in Abu Ghraib bear a grotesque similarity to Kurtz's compound in the jungle.
The lighting and soundtrack of "Taxi" work similarly to that of Coppola's film, though not to nearly as dramatic an effect. Both accentuate the serious and somber mood that pervades the film due to the shocking nature of the footage and interview accounts, especially in several reenactments of torture and prisoner abuse. To be an informed citizen in today's world, anddue to its excellent quality,"Taxi to the Dark Side" is a must-see.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
"Flight Of The Conchords" Second Season Review
Link to the original article here.
This piece is a short but interesting look at the recently premiered second season of HBO's "Flight of the Conchords." It starts out by acclimating the reader to what the review's going to be about, giving even a non-viewer a good impression of what the show's like. An introduction to the main characters of the show is also in order.
We are also given what comes closest to reviewer Mike Hale's "but" in the piece: "Season 2 begins on Sunday [...], and the off-kilter charm is still there, though some strain is beginning to show." This is followed up throughout the article, particularly in mentioning how more jokes than previously seem to "fall flat." This is continued at the end of the review, where Hale mentions how only very small, hip populations of the U.S. will actually be interested in the second season of this show, implying that the show won't have very much impact.
Overall, this short review gives a good synopsis of what the show was like during its first season and how it will likely turn out in its new season. However, I would have added that Jemaine Clement, one of the main characters, has been quoted as saying that this is the last season of "Conchords," an important fact for anyone interested in the show.
Problems With "Gran Torino" Review
My review of Gran Torino was, to put it lightly, sub-par.
Chief among its flaws is the misspelling of one of the character's names. In the review I handed in, the character Sue's name was incorrectly written as Su (I fixed it in the blog review). As I learned in last quarter's journalism class, this alone is enough to condemn the review's grade to an F.
However, there are is another major flaw with the analysis. It dedicates the majority of three paragraphs (more than half of the entire article) to what basically amounts to plot summary. This is unacceptable; after all, it's intended to be a review, not a synopsis.
One thing done correctly in this piece was a clear statement of opinion. The "but" is, "Nothing else in the film stands out quite so well, and overall, it is thoroughly mediocre compared with other more recent Eastwood movies, such as his 'Unforgiven.' See it, if at all, only for Eastwood's masterful performance." However, there's not much defense behind this statement, yet another problem. I'd give myself an F for the misspelling of Sue's name and the review's other problems.
Monday, January 19, 2009
"Live From Baghdad" Worth A Second Look
KALAMAZOO, Mich.--In light of the conflict in Iraq and Barack Obama's upcoming election, taking another look at the eents leading up to the 1991 Gulf War through the lens of Mick Jackson's 2002 "Live From Baghdad" is certainly worthwhile.
The film is a dramatization of the events that a CNN news team went through while reporting in Baghdad from August 1990 until the war started in January 1991. Starring Michael Keaton as the main character, CNN producer RObert Wiener, it's based on the book written by Robert Wiener himself, also entitled "Live From Baghdad."
Released as a made-for-TV HBO movie, the film nonetheless exceeds the expectations set for this type of movie. It's a surprisingly star-studded cast for such a film. Helena Bonham Carter as Ingrid Formanek, another CNN producer, has genuine onscreen chemistry with Wiener and was awarded an Emmy and Golden Globe nomination for her performance.
Keaton also puts in a strong performance as a strong-willed reporter who will do almost anything for a good story. The supporting cast performs excellently as well, giving a realistic presentation of the stresses and humorous banter one experiences as part of an active news team. This is especially true in scenes such as the crew's arrival at their Baghdad hotel, the interview of an American hostage being held in Iraw, and the crew's hurried escape from Kuwait.
Bruce McGill as Peter Arnett and Robert Wisdom as Bernard Shaw, veteran reporters both, stand out particularly in this respect. Both men contribute significantly to the realism of the reporters and even manage to provide humor in difficult situations. Hamish Linklater as Richard "Don't call me Dick" Roth, provides more of this, notably in a scene with Wiener illustrating the meaning of said quote.
While the characters in "Live From Baghdad" offered portrayals of a news team under fire, the cinematography in the film was just as good. Shadowy lighting lent a tense and sometimes gloomy mood in dramatic scenes, and even the score, not especially noteworthy in the film, contributed to this. A few pop songs, such as The Dexy Midnight Runners' "Come On Eileen," and Duran Duran's "Hungry Like The Wolf" are also thrown in for good measure.
Actual footage from the time period, including part of an interview with Saddam Hussein, added a realistic touch, But of particular note is the film's final scene. The Gulf War has had its inevitable start, and the CNN news crew has had no choice at this point but to stay behind and report the news. McGill, Wisdom, and John Carroll Lynch's John Holliman remain in the crew's hotel room to report the bombardment live to American audiences.
As they describe what's going on to those back home over a four-wire, the beauty and yet awful terror of the bombs being dropped and the anti-aircraft being fired back is truly striking. They're like a morbid variety of fireworks, and one is somewhat reminded of how Francis Scott Key must have felt while composing "The Star Spangled Banner." For this scene and the stellar performances by the cast, and in view of the current situation in Iraq, "Live From Baghdad" is indeed worth a second look.
Monday, January 12, 2009
"Elsewhere U.S.A" Review Defense
Find a link to the article here.
Janet Maslin's review of Dalton Conley's 2008 book, "Elsewhere U.S.A.", offers a well structured and highly contextualized analysis of the major problems the work contains.
The critic begins her review with the largest problem she identified in the text: the fact that "Mr Conlan shows himself to be a much more acute observer than analyst." In other words, the book doesn't live up to the expectations it should have met. It was supposed to analyze the problems of disconnect in the U.S. but instead ends up merely observing them. This is Maslin's "but."
Maslin also provides the names of some works that the book aspires to be like but is not. These two things provide an effective beginning in giving the reader a taste of what the book is like comparatively, and also showing her opinion of the book.
Structure is well utilized in this review, and focuses on the book's major problems, descending to its lesser ones. Maslin highlights the few redeeming points toward the end, and weaves in quotes as well as contextual examples to keep the review from becoming tedious. Voice is not a significant contributer to the review, but her voice is not incendiary in a way that would possibly agitate readers against the review. Instead, the piece calmly, logically, dissects the flaws of the Conley's book in an extremely professional way that is insightful and readable.
Eastwood's "Gran Torino" Typical, But For Eastwood Himself
KALAMAZOO, Mich.--It's been said that Clint Eastwood portrays much the same character in many of the films he has appeared in over his many years as an actor. For much of his career, this has been true. As "Dirty Harry" in the five films of the 70s and 80s featuring that character, "The Man With No Name" in Sergio Leone's trilogy of 1960s spaghetti westerns, and other westerns such as "Hang 'Em High" (1968), Eastwood has shown himself to be the iconic tough guy who lets his gun do most of the talking. In his 2008 film, "Gran Torino," he opts to show a different side.
The film, which Eastwood directed, produced, and starred in, is the story of Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) a recently bereaved veteran of the Korean War, and his interactions with the world around him. Kowalski's world - his neighborhood - has in recent years shifted from a white demographic to a neighborhood filled with Hmong immigrants. While the world around him has undergone significant alterations, Walt himself has not. "Gran Torino" thus becomes an attempt to show Walt's changes in his changing world.
From the beginning of the film, Kowalski's resistance to change is made apparent. In the opening scene at his wife's funeral, he's so stiff and rigid he could almost be the one in rigor mortis. He is shown to be the typical grumpy old man, who disapproves of his granddaughter's appearance and attitude at the funeral, his sons, and how his entire world is shifting under his feet, through the influence of the Hmong immigrants. There's even a scene where he yells at a group of young people to get off his lawn. He expresses his disdain through a great deal of swearing and racist comments. It seems Walt disapproves of nearly everything.
This does begin to change, about halfway through the movie. A young immigrant, Thao Lor (Bee Vang), under pressure to join a Hmong gang, attempts to steal Kowalski's prized Gran Torino. Kowalski thus begins his relationship with Thao and later, his sister, Sue (Ahney Her). His overriding sense of justice leads him to help the two, including scenes where Walt rescues Sue from harassment and Thao from being abducted by the gang. These two lead him into change, and eventual hero status in the neighborhood.
It may seem that a lot's been said about Eastwood's role in this film - and with good reason. Eastwood's acting is what makes the movie worth watching. His gravelly voice and veteran acting skills make his performance excellent. While Christopher Carley puts in a decent performance as the priest who's attempting to redeem Kowalski, the film suffers from poor acting on the part of the two actors who portray Thao and Sue. Nothing else in the film stands out at all, and overall, it is throughly mediocre compared with other more recent Eastwood movies, such as his "Unforgiven." See it, if at all, only for Eastwood's masterful performance.
--XXX--
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