Monday, December 19, 2011
Deadly Hymns
It took me years after watching Fallen starring Denzel Washington to listen to The Rolling Stones' "Time Is On My Side" without my blood curdling. Last night we watched Night of the Hunter, and it's going to be a long time before I hear "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" the same way again. *shudder*
Have you had any songs take on alternative, eerie meanings for you in similar ways?
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The Science of Sleep
How many movies do we actually end up rewatching? There are movies I think are utter masterpieces I've seen only once. Movies I truly love, I've probably only seen between two and four times. It's really only the lighter fare (Super Troopers, Dazed and Confused, The Warriors, etc.) that I've given the once every 4-6 week treatment to, and then for finite periods of time. No matter how much you might have changed since your last viewing, sometimes, there just doesn't seem to be a point to spending another two hours immersed in a world you've already visited.
SM hadn't seen Michel Gondry's The Science of Sleep before, so when it was playing at the Gene Siskel Film Center last week, we decided to take advantage. I adore Michel Gondry's imagination and visual creations, but it hadn't been one of the movies I'd really put a lot of thought into rewatching. The first and last time I'd seen it, I'd come away both defensive and disappointed. Gondry's music videos and general DIY arts approach to filmmaking has been influential for me ever since I saw the White Stripes' "Fell in Love with a Girl video" in 2001. I was floored when Eternal Sunshine came out in 2004, and bought the Criterion Collection of his short videos as soon as I could. Needless to say, with his body of work in mind combined with my intense crush on star Gael Garcia Bernal, expectations were high when Science of Sleep came out in 2006. Instead of having those expectations met, however, I left the theater unable to explain what I'd just seen. I thought it was muddled and disorganized in spite of its incredible set design and animation techniques, which I'd seen as its only redeeming element. I answered my doubts with a dismissive familiarity with Gondry's work: "what else did I really expect? With such a creative mind as his, it's hard to have so many ideas, such an expansive vision, and keep it cohesive and in check." I went into this second viewing excited to enter his world again, but didn't expect much from the movie itself.
This time, I was truly impressed. Instead of fighting through my own expectations, I was able to watch the film with a much more discerning eye. There was so much reality going on just under the surface that did a lot to support the whole premise, so many details I hadn't caught before that make each choice much more intentional than I had given it credit for.
The film opens with French-Mexican Stephane Miroux (Bernal) moving to Paris to be with his mother after his father dies of cancer in Mexico. He moves into his childhood room in his mother's former apartment in a building she owns, and starts a job she sets up for him. He is a creative type and likes to draw, invent, and make things with his hands, a hobby he has had since he was a child (he turns off the light switch from his bed with an elaborate pulley system attached to a mallet). The job turns out to be much less fulfilling than he'd expected, and he is continually stymied by his inadequate French. Things quickly get a lot more interesting, though, when he meets his neighbor, Stephanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg), from across the hall as she's moving in. She originally thinks he is part of the moving crew when he ends up helping (and hurting) her moving efforts and getting himself hurt in the process, and invites him in to have her attractive friend, Zoe, tend his wound. While Stephanie is attracted to him, he is initially attracted to Zoe, creating a bit of a triangle. After he gets to know Stephanie a bit more and sees her creative pursuits, though, he begins to change his mind.
The variable that takes the movie on a loop is the surrealistic elements of the film. From the beginning, we are treated to the view from inside Stephane's head. In his mind he has his own television show, complete with cardboard sets, on which he is the host, cooking up the ingredients of his day into dreamy concoctions that lead to DIY-style fantasy sequences about his father and his new surroundings as he sleeps. As the film progresses, though, those fantasies blend with reality to calamitous results. Just as things are getting friendly with Stephanie, he nakedly sleepwalks across the hall and slips a dream-written note under her door, in which he spouts a lot of nonsense but manages to close with asking for Zoe's number. The crux of the ensuing misunderstanding is here, but the viewer doesn't realize it yet: unbeknownst to Stephane, Stephanie read the note before he realized his mistake and retrieved it from under her door. As he falls for Stephanie and tries to spend more time with her, we realize that she saw the note as a sign that he's not interested in her and that they are just friends, so she rebuffs his advances. Stephane's dreamworld continues to unknowingly muddle his reality, and he becomes more and more confused and heartbroken as the movie unfolds, ultimately spoiling the chance he does get with Stephanie because he is so wrapped up in his own head.
What I hadn't realized before is how much goes into muddling the viewer's sense of reality right along with Stephane's. Often in surrealistic films, the viewer is above it all, aware of what is real and what isn't, even if the characters aren't. This is usually done by spending close to equal amount of time in both the real and fantastical world. In The Science of Sleep, we know that Stephane is spending too much time in his dreamworld, but we don't really realize how much time we're not spending in the real world either. Only snatches of the real world are visible, and noticing them the second time around really grounded the movie for me and put Stephane's detachment from reality in perspective. We see Stephanie's setup to getting angry and frustrated in small snatches that only amount to a few minutes of screen time. We see Stephane's coworkers annoyed that he hasn't been reliable at work for another few measly minutes sprinkled throughout. We see Stephane's mother argue with her boyfriend for only a few seconds before she ends up moving back into the apartment she shared with her son long ago. These glimpses are enough reality on second viewing to make Stephane's situation bigger than he is, and it gives the film more depth.
Another layer of complexity I hadn't noticed before was language. The first time I saw the film, I attributed the muddled dialogue to English being Gondry's second language. Now I see that the distinctive ESL flavor to the script underscores Stephane's state of mind, both in his life as a transplant from Mexico who recently lost his father, and from his perch between reality and his dreamworld. Throughout the film he pushes the boundaries of his French with everyone he meets and is forced to settle for their common second language, English. Even with his mother, he can understand her French, but he would much prefer to express himself to her in English. In his conversations with Stephanie, both of them take thought to find the right English words to express the inner monologues that no doubt take place in their own first languages. (It seemed as if the actors improvised a lot of their conversation, which expertly added to this effect.) Stephane's limitations with language make his way into his dreams as well: he speaks to his father in Spanish and English, and his French coworkers' fantastical counterparts speak in a mush-mouthed mockery of French. Stephane is disoriented both literally and figuratively, and his dreams take the concept and run with it.
Overall, I liked this movie much more than I had the first time. Without the constraints of expectations and with the freedom to let go of the plot and notice the details, I was able to really appreciate all of the layers that Michel Gondry was able to employ to support his vision. I was also able to appreciate how impressive it is to write and present a film that is utterly and unforgivingly of the moment and in the head of the narrator, something I've really begun to appreciate after reading Proust. (Some Proustian ideas of love are in here too, but that could be a whole other pretentious blog post.) We are not omniscient in this film; we are tied to Stephane in a way that limits our scope, and we are only given hints of the objective situation. Of course all of the visual aspects, the animation and the characters' tactile sensibilities were still amazing and on par with what I love about Gondry's work. But this time I was able to walk away confident that the movie was impressive beyond my presumptions. It's a film I look forward to rewatching.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Stasis
Shuffle this evening:
Ryan Adams - This House Is Not For Sale
Sufjan Stevens - Holland
The Magnetic Fields - Meaningless
Snoop Dogg - Beautiful
Battles - Snare Hanger
There is a point at which one's music library ceases to collect and hardens into a time capsule. I'm beginning to think now is that time.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Graduate
One of my friends recently saw The Graduate for the first time, and sent two of us an email about it. DS and I had two separate but perhaps complementary ideas about the aims and ending of the film. I thought y'all might find this interesting. Below I've pasted our emails, spelling/grammar mistakes and all. What do you think?
Subject: The Graduate
------------------------
From: JW
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 12:25 AM
To: TS, DS
From: DS
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:04 PM
To: JW
Cc: TS
The way I read it was as a subltey creepy and perhaps solipsistic pursuit and ending. The very last shot is the most damning one of the film, they're on the bus, grinning, not talking, consigned to spending the rest of each others lives together in relative alienation. I don't remember exactly, but aren't they surrounded by old, decrepit couples on the bus?
To me that's the central concern of Dustin Hoffman's character, the fear of the alienation of being an adult and entering the modern world of wage labor and shallow relationships, (like the oedipal one he has with Mrs. Robinson.) Hello darkness my old friend indeed.
----------
From: TS [Me]
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:55 PM
To: DS
Cc: JW
I haven't seen the movie in a while, but I'd always read the end as a testament to his persistent immaturity and as a damning realistic take on romance. Ben spends most of the movie in over his head without doing much about it: he doesn't know what he's doing with his life after school; he falls into an affair, more out of curiosity and laziness than anything else, while not making any career moves; and then he finally finds something in his life to latch after he connects with Elaine, but he finds he doesn't know how to go about it. His relationship with Elaine is the first thing he has been forced to fight for, and he goes about it with no grace whatsoever. I don't think they were meant to be romantic as much as clumsy and embarrassing. He's lucky Elaine likes him at all, because he played all the wrong cards. By the time they leave the wedding and get on the bus, I think they're both faced with those facts: wow, this tactic worked...what now? He's over his head again, and she's stuck with the guy who acted the way he did, on all counts (banged his mom, took her to a strip club to turn her off of himself, pursued her to Berkeley, etc.). Lots of movies have their characters do these ridiculous things, and they're rewarded for it without stepping back to think, hm, what does it really mean to be the person who does that kind of thing? Though the rom com in its current form didn't exist back then, the grand "romantic" gestures sure did, and I saw this movie as a contrasting reality check to those gestures. We're supposed to feel a bit creeped out, I think. Also, keep in mind that this is Dustin Hoffman here: the original beta male, he became known for playing complicated, yet somehow likeable underdog characters. He wasn't Robert Redford or Warren Beatty, and I think this peculiar star status lends itself to the role.
These are just impressions I remember from my last viewing. I also like [DS]'s reading of the film.
******************************
If you guys have other readings of the film, let me know in the comments below.
Subject: The Graduate
------------------------
From: JW
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 12:25 AM
To: TS, DS
Just watched The Graduate for the first time and I was curious whether
the scenes with Ben pursuing Elaine were meant to be creepy or
romantic or neither? Obviously to modern sensibilities he's quite the
stalker but perhaps in the 60s following a girl around was seen as
romantic? Certainly she does end up reciprocating...
J
----------the scenes with Ben pursuing Elaine were meant to be creepy or
romantic or neither? Obviously to modern sensibilities he's quite the
stalker but perhaps in the 60s following a girl around was seen as
romantic? Certainly she does end up reciprocating...
J
From: DS
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:04 PM
To: JW
Cc: TS
The way I read it was as a subltey creepy and perhaps solipsistic pursuit and ending. The very last shot is the most damning one of the film, they're on the bus, grinning, not talking, consigned to spending the rest of each others lives together in relative alienation. I don't remember exactly, but aren't they surrounded by old, decrepit couples on the bus?
To me that's the central concern of Dustin Hoffman's character, the fear of the alienation of being an adult and entering the modern world of wage labor and shallow relationships, (like the oedipal one he has with Mrs. Robinson.) Hello darkness my old friend indeed.
From: TS [Me]
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:55 PM
To: DS
Cc: JW
I haven't seen the movie in a while, but I'd always read the end as a testament to his persistent immaturity and as a damning realistic take on romance. Ben spends most of the movie in over his head without doing much about it: he doesn't know what he's doing with his life after school; he falls into an affair, more out of curiosity and laziness than anything else, while not making any career moves; and then he finally finds something in his life to latch after he connects with Elaine, but he finds he doesn't know how to go about it. His relationship with Elaine is the first thing he has been forced to fight for, and he goes about it with no grace whatsoever. I don't think they were meant to be romantic as much as clumsy and embarrassing. He's lucky Elaine likes him at all, because he played all the wrong cards. By the time they leave the wedding and get on the bus, I think they're both faced with those facts: wow, this tactic worked...what now? He's over his head again, and she's stuck with the guy who acted the way he did, on all counts (banged his mom, took her to a strip club to turn her off of himself, pursued her to Berkeley, etc.). Lots of movies have their characters do these ridiculous things, and they're rewarded for it without stepping back to think, hm, what does it really mean to be the person who does that kind of thing? Though the rom com in its current form didn't exist back then, the grand "romantic" gestures sure did, and I saw this movie as a contrasting reality check to those gestures. We're supposed to feel a bit creeped out, I think. Also, keep in mind that this is Dustin Hoffman here: the original beta male, he became known for playing complicated, yet somehow likeable underdog characters. He wasn't Robert Redford or Warren Beatty, and I think this peculiar star status lends itself to the role.
These are just impressions I remember from my last viewing. I also like [DS]'s reading of the film.
******************************
If you guys have other readings of the film, let me know in the comments below.
Monday, August 8, 2011
A Meandering Conversation: Lollapalooza Recap, Part 2
This is a joint blogging experiment with The Grind. I'll be covering Day 1, we'll do joint coverage of Day 2 (and post in both places), and he'll cover Day 3.
We decided to do Part 2 conversationally, and seeing as we were face to face as is so little of our day, we decided to just record our natural conversation instead of typing it up unnaturally. Here's our conversation:
0:00 - The Black Lips
3:24 - Mayer Hawthorne
9:12 - Local Natives/"Tribal"
13:08 - Deftones
16:15 - Patrick Stump and Fall Out Boy
26:57 - Ween/Dinner
30:34 - Atmosphere
33:25 - Eminem
41:00 - Rap/Hip-hop and bad boys turned good/accepted
We decided to do Part 2 conversationally, and seeing as we were face to face as is so little of our day, we decided to just record our natural conversation instead of typing it up unnaturally. Here's our conversation:
0:00 - The Black Lips
3:24 - Mayer Hawthorne
9:12 - Local Natives/"Tribal"
13:08 - Deftones
16:15 - Patrick Stump and Fall Out Boy
26:57 - Ween/Dinner
30:34 - Atmosphere
33:25 - Eminem
41:00 - Rap/Hip-hop and bad boys turned good/accepted
Saturday, August 6, 2011
And there was much dancing: A Lollapalooza Recap, Part 1
This is a joint blogging experiment with The Grind. I'll be covering Day 1, we'll do joint coverage of Day 2 (and post in both places), and he'll cover Day 3.
8/6/11
First off, let me just say that Lolla exceeded my expectations. Sure, there are lots and lots and lots of people. But it helps a lot that Grant Park is big and beautiful, the perfect calming setting for such an affair. I didn't have my hopes high for the festival's layout, crowds, or audience after having been to Pitchfork Music Festival so many years, but Lolla is actually quite well-run, and the audience was more than just bros and trixies.
Day 1
We got there around 3ish, and had to wait in a really, really long line to get in and exchange our 3 day passes for wristbands. After that, though we entered into a vastness that was somehow welcoming instead of intimidating. Kudos to them for however they pulled that off. We missed Delta Spirit and Grace Potter & the Nocturnals because I was running late, but we saw most of Smith Westerns. They put on a great show, and were markedly more mature than in their appearance on AV Undercover. The impression that they'd been so young and affected had been somewhat of a turn off to me at first, but this time that youth manifested itself in humility and just a joy at being at the festival. For their penultimate song, "Weekend," (the video linked to above), we made sure to give JK a call; I hope he heard everything alright.
After that, we took a break to explore the grounds. Unlike at Union Park, the site of P4K, there are plenty of beautiful places to sit away from it all. There's just a lot more space in general, and I felt like I could breathe easier and relax without fear of elbowing my neighbor. We went back to the Playstation stage (is this supposed to be the mellow stage) to see a great set by The Mountain Goats. I was a bit worried that SM would be annoyed by his voice, but he really rocked out, and we had a good time. Frontman John Darnielle is extremely energetic, and he really had the crowd going as he skipped around onstage. I think the highlight of the set for me was "Going to Georgia."
The food options at Lolla are really great. For dinner we split a pulled pork sandwich ($7) and chicken tikka ($6) on flatbread along with a "sport bottle" of Pinot Grigio. I don't think I'd pay for the wine again, but it is a great idea to sell by the bottle, and it was quite tasty.
Best show of the night, hands down, was OK Go at the Google+ stage. I love OK Go. You may know them as the treadmill video guys, but I gotta pull out some pretension here and say that I've been loving them since 2002's breakout hit, "Get Over It" hit the airwaves in some minor way. I've kept track of them since, and loved every minute of their perfect pop/rock. I knew he was going to have fun, but SM was definitely blown away by their awesomeness. The show was just amazing, and we were dancing and singing the entire time. They closed with "This Too Shall Pass," complete with audience participation (LET IT GO, THIS TOO SHALL PASS). Wow. If this turns out to be my favorite show of the festival, I would not be disappointed.
After OK Go, our plan was to catch a half hour of Coldplay (just 'cause), watch some of Ratatat, and then meander over to Girl Talk. Our friend MT gave us the advice to go with the flow instead of rushing around driving yourself crazy trying to get to everything that sounds good. Good advice. Coldplay was great. I'd seen them in 2002, but SM hadn't, so it was with a fear that they'd just play all their craptastic, bombastic, U2-ego stuff that I agreed to join him. Well, a fear of that and never finding each other again if we separated, since AT&T fails on all accounts at such events. Anyway, the show was just as good as it was back then. They played a lot of old songs, such as "Everything's Not Lost," "Trouble," and (a couple's favorite of ours) "Shiver." Chris Martin was a lot more energetic onstage than I remember him being at the Target Center; maybe all this fame and Gwen-marriage has validated his sense of self-worth, and he's come out of his shell or something. Good for him.
We wanted to catch Ratatat, so we ducked out early and headed back to Google+ just in time for "Wildcat." We'd seen them together in 2009, and they were no less awesome. Their sound is so clean, I don't think it's possible for them to be anything less. I guess they didn't have the holograms onstage with them at The Metro...or did they? We danced mightily. And it was good. They closed with an extended version of "Seventeen Years," or maybe they just segued from that to another great song that closed off the whole evening. Girl Talk's just a bunch of mash-ups anyway, right?
The brown line back was crowded and loud, but I'm glad we got some peace and quiet between Belmont and Irving Park. All in all, I am definitely glad to have the opportunity to attend the festival. The tickets are expensive, and there are so many people, I didn't think I'd ever want to go, let alone get the chance. Thanks to EM for such a spectacular birthday present! More tomorrow.
8/6/11
First off, let me just say that Lolla exceeded my expectations. Sure, there are lots and lots and lots of people. But it helps a lot that Grant Park is big and beautiful, the perfect calming setting for such an affair. I didn't have my hopes high for the festival's layout, crowds, or audience after having been to Pitchfork Music Festival so many years, but Lolla is actually quite well-run, and the audience was more than just bros and trixies.
Day 1
We got there around 3ish, and had to wait in a really, really long line to get in and exchange our 3 day passes for wristbands. After that, though we entered into a vastness that was somehow welcoming instead of intimidating. Kudos to them for however they pulled that off. We missed Delta Spirit and Grace Potter & the Nocturnals because I was running late, but we saw most of Smith Westerns. They put on a great show, and were markedly more mature than in their appearance on AV Undercover. The impression that they'd been so young and affected had been somewhat of a turn off to me at first, but this time that youth manifested itself in humility and just a joy at being at the festival. For their penultimate song, "Weekend," (the video linked to above), we made sure to give JK a call; I hope he heard everything alright.
After that, we took a break to explore the grounds. Unlike at Union Park, the site of P4K, there are plenty of beautiful places to sit away from it all. There's just a lot more space in general, and I felt like I could breathe easier and relax without fear of elbowing my neighbor. We went back to the Playstation stage (is this supposed to be the mellow stage) to see a great set by The Mountain Goats. I was a bit worried that SM would be annoyed by his voice, but he really rocked out, and we had a good time. Frontman John Darnielle is extremely energetic, and he really had the crowd going as he skipped around onstage. I think the highlight of the set for me was "Going to Georgia."
The food options at Lolla are really great. For dinner we split a pulled pork sandwich ($7) and chicken tikka ($6) on flatbread along with a "sport bottle" of Pinot Grigio. I don't think I'd pay for the wine again, but it is a great idea to sell by the bottle, and it was quite tasty.
Best show of the night, hands down, was OK Go at the Google+ stage. I love OK Go. You may know them as the treadmill video guys, but I gotta pull out some pretension here and say that I've been loving them since 2002's breakout hit, "Get Over It" hit the airwaves in some minor way. I've kept track of them since, and loved every minute of their perfect pop/rock. I knew he was going to have fun, but SM was definitely blown away by their awesomeness. The show was just amazing, and we were dancing and singing the entire time. They closed with "This Too Shall Pass," complete with audience participation (LET IT GO, THIS TOO SHALL PASS). Wow. If this turns out to be my favorite show of the festival, I would not be disappointed.
After OK Go, our plan was to catch a half hour of Coldplay (just 'cause), watch some of Ratatat, and then meander over to Girl Talk. Our friend MT gave us the advice to go with the flow instead of rushing around driving yourself crazy trying to get to everything that sounds good. Good advice. Coldplay was great. I'd seen them in 2002, but SM hadn't, so it was with a fear that they'd just play all their craptastic, bombastic, U2-ego stuff that I agreed to join him. Well, a fear of that and never finding each other again if we separated, since AT&T fails on all accounts at such events. Anyway, the show was just as good as it was back then. They played a lot of old songs, such as "Everything's Not Lost," "Trouble," and (a couple's favorite of ours) "Shiver." Chris Martin was a lot more energetic onstage than I remember him being at the Target Center; maybe all this fame and Gwen-marriage has validated his sense of self-worth, and he's come out of his shell or something. Good for him.
We wanted to catch Ratatat, so we ducked out early and headed back to Google+ just in time for "Wildcat." We'd seen them together in 2009, and they were no less awesome. Their sound is so clean, I don't think it's possible for them to be anything less. I guess they didn't have the holograms onstage with them at The Metro...or did they? We danced mightily. And it was good. They closed with an extended version of "Seventeen Years," or maybe they just segued from that to another great song that closed off the whole evening. Girl Talk's just a bunch of mash-ups anyway, right?
The brown line back was crowded and loud, but I'm glad we got some peace and quiet between Belmont and Irving Park. All in all, I am definitely glad to have the opportunity to attend the festival. The tickets are expensive, and there are so many people, I didn't think I'd ever want to go, let alone get the chance. Thanks to EM for such a spectacular birthday present! More tomorrow.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Tribute
SM and I decided this weekend that if we ever get a dog, we will name it Danko. I think if we ever get a second dog (if you know me, you know that chances of this are slim), I'd definitely consider naming it Levon. None of our pets will ever be named Robbie.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Obligatory Tree of Life Post
I'm going to try to make this free of spoilers. I don't think it's possible to spoil this movie, though. Just don't walk out after the first 45 minutes.
Okay, so I saw The Tree of Life this past Tuesday. Right off the bat, I just have to say that the cinemotagraphy is amazing. It looks specacular. The movie itself is the culmination of Mallick's films. Everything was there: religion, man vs. the universe, voiceover, hands running through wheat, good vs. evil, shots of the sun, shots looking up at the trees. And it was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.
But my thoughts on it haven't yet settled. At first, I thought that the parts about the dawn of the universe didn't mesh well or have a coherent message with the parts centering around Jack's family. But as I've had some distance from it, it is clearly one of the many contrasting pairs Mallick sets up in the film.
The very personal and subjective pain of losing a close family member, contrasted with the expanse of the universe
Father vs. Mother
Grace vs. Nature
Future vs. Present
Past vs. Present
Preparing for and sculpting the future, as opposed to letting things come, letting things happen
Evil vs. Good
The meting out of love (when deemed appropriate) vs. unconditional and ever-present love
Brother vs. brother
These were just a few of the themes that I felt and picked up on while watching the film. There were two specific impressions that have really resonated with me, though.
First, when it came to the Waco, TX scenes, so much reminded me of my own family and my own childhood. I am the eldest child, and I, too, felt a strange relationship to my younger siblings, both a strong love for and a certain jealousy of their presence. We were also physically disciplined (something I have no problem with), but later in my parents' marriage my dad became more abusive (something I have a huge problem with); my mom was also silently indignant about this, as Jack's mother was, but couldn't do much to stop it. Then there were some religious aspects of the film that really hit home. All of those questions were ones I had asked of God myself in some intensely personal, trying, and scary times. There is fear and awe and doubt mixed up in those moments, just as they were expertly portrayed in the movie.
The second thought that I just can't shake about this film is the similarities between it and East of Eden by John Steinbeck, one of my favorite books. East of Eden is just as beautiful, if not more so, and the juxtapositions between the beauty and wide open space of the west with the author's detailed family histories and personal memories recall Mallick's struggle to comprehend humanity and existence. Both works also allude to biblical references throughout. The book also centers around the relationships between brothers (there are at least three sets of siblings in the book, two of which feature brothers competing for love and acceptance), just as The Tree of Life spends time showing differences between the two brothers and the desire to be "good."
The book is a bit more concerned with fate and intertwining stories, as a book is so well-suited to do, but both pieces end (explicitly or implicitly) with what I interpreted as a choice. Both writers asked "why him?" with a certain amount of guilt, and I think Steinbeck provided not an answer but a choice -- an obligation -- to keep going. Although my fellow moviegoers, SM and DS, disagreed with me about the ending of the film, I saw it as a sign of freedom from the burden of grief, permission to keep going: Timshel, "thou mayest." He is the only one left to do something with his life, and he has the permission, he should do so without guilt.
These are just some reactions that have been going through my head in the past 4 days. I think I need to see the film again to really hammer down whether the questions Mallick posed were answered or if they need answers at all. DS was pretty adamant that this was one of the finest films he'd ever seen, and that there was no conclusion to be drawn from the impressionistic portrait. Maybe it's just my desire for outlines and closure, but I think there's more to this than not being able to fully interpret it, and I think we're allowed to judge the piece if it doesn't end up coalescing into anything substantial. I'll let you know if I figure anything else out.
Okay, so I saw The Tree of Life this past Tuesday. Right off the bat, I just have to say that the cinemotagraphy is amazing. It looks specacular. The movie itself is the culmination of Mallick's films. Everything was there: religion, man vs. the universe, voiceover, hands running through wheat, good vs. evil, shots of the sun, shots looking up at the trees. And it was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.
But my thoughts on it haven't yet settled. At first, I thought that the parts about the dawn of the universe didn't mesh well or have a coherent message with the parts centering around Jack's family. But as I've had some distance from it, it is clearly one of the many contrasting pairs Mallick sets up in the film.
The very personal and subjective pain of losing a close family member, contrasted with the expanse of the universe
Father vs. Mother
Grace vs. Nature
Future vs. Present
Past vs. Present
Preparing for and sculpting the future, as opposed to letting things come, letting things happen
Evil vs. Good
The meting out of love (when deemed appropriate) vs. unconditional and ever-present love
Brother vs. brother
These were just a few of the themes that I felt and picked up on while watching the film. There were two specific impressions that have really resonated with me, though.
First, when it came to the Waco, TX scenes, so much reminded me of my own family and my own childhood. I am the eldest child, and I, too, felt a strange relationship to my younger siblings, both a strong love for and a certain jealousy of their presence. We were also physically disciplined (something I have no problem with), but later in my parents' marriage my dad became more abusive (something I have a huge problem with); my mom was also silently indignant about this, as Jack's mother was, but couldn't do much to stop it. Then there were some religious aspects of the film that really hit home. All of those questions were ones I had asked of God myself in some intensely personal, trying, and scary times. There is fear and awe and doubt mixed up in those moments, just as they were expertly portrayed in the movie.
The second thought that I just can't shake about this film is the similarities between it and East of Eden by John Steinbeck, one of my favorite books. East of Eden is just as beautiful, if not more so, and the juxtapositions between the beauty and wide open space of the west with the author's detailed family histories and personal memories recall Mallick's struggle to comprehend humanity and existence. Both works also allude to biblical references throughout. The book also centers around the relationships between brothers (there are at least three sets of siblings in the book, two of which feature brothers competing for love and acceptance), just as The Tree of Life spends time showing differences between the two brothers and the desire to be "good."
The book is a bit more concerned with fate and intertwining stories, as a book is so well-suited to do, but both pieces end (explicitly or implicitly) with what I interpreted as a choice. Both writers asked "why him?" with a certain amount of guilt, and I think Steinbeck provided not an answer but a choice -- an obligation -- to keep going. Although my fellow moviegoers, SM and DS, disagreed with me about the ending of the film, I saw it as a sign of freedom from the burden of grief, permission to keep going: Timshel, "thou mayest." He is the only one left to do something with his life, and he has the permission, he should do so without guilt.
These are just some reactions that have been going through my head in the past 4 days. I think I need to see the film again to really hammer down whether the questions Mallick posed were answered or if they need answers at all. DS was pretty adamant that this was one of the finest films he'd ever seen, and that there was no conclusion to be drawn from the impressionistic portrait. Maybe it's just my desire for outlines and closure, but I think there's more to this than not being able to fully interpret it, and I think we're allowed to judge the piece if it doesn't end up coalescing into anything substantial. I'll let you know if I figure anything else out.
First Impressions
It can be incredibly unnerving to have your reputation precede you. It is simultaneously flattering, frightening, and intimidating that others have spoken of you, that their friends have formed a picture to which they will compare you from then on. Whether positive or negative, you can add to that portrait or shatter it.
I am perpetually frustrated that I am doomed to be trapped inside my own head, never able to see myself without an intimate knowledge of myself and my own neuroses. What does what we do for our own reasons look like to everyone else who is not privy to those incentives? What do other people see when they meet you? How does that change as they get to know you?
Anyway, one of my closest friends, JW, had an engagement party (in celebration of her engagement, of course, but also her civil union -- her husband, JD, is from out of the country, meaning lots of paperwork ahead that they'd like to settle sooner rather than later). When I met 2 of my fellow bridesmaids, her other best friends from college, the first words out of their mouths were, "this is the Tiff?" "It's so great to finally meet you!" Of course I had heard loads about them and was happy to finally meet them as well, but I was immediately caught off guard -- what does that mean? What could they possibly know about me that I don't? We talked for a while, and JW came over. "She's so great! I love her!" they said. "I know, right?" JW responded, as if there was something I wasn't in on; they'd clearly talked about this before. I honestly don't get it. I thought they were really nice and really cool, and we certainly share some interests, but I kept getting the nagging feeling there was something I was missing, and it weirded me out.
I admitted this to SM the next morning: what is it that people see that I can't? How drastic a difference is the sense of our selves we get in our own heads from the self we are actually projecting to others? Obviously I know no one else is privy to my inner monologue, but one thing SM brought up that I hadn't thought of before was that what I take for granted may be what others lack and what they like in me. For example, he said, his mother finds me to be "warm," and he used the word "genuine" too. In discussing what those descriptions could possibly mean, we mapped it back to what I always thought was just asking questions about people and things because I actually wanted to know. Apparently not everyone does that? I've also been accused of far worse -- being cold, being moody -- but in my head, there's always a reason, whether it's not knowing what to say; trying to internally wrestle with whether or not I'm doing the right thing; or watching my precious plans crumble before my eyes, leaving me helpless and clueless. Fortunately SM has learned to pick up on all of those things, and he knows how to read the situation and act or not act accordingly.
I'm sure everyone has their own reasons for everything, then, right? Is getting to know someone just familiarizing yourself with the differential between the inner workings of one's brain and the person you met that first time, the projection of that person in that first impression? Can you be close to someone without being familiar with that differential? Is Person X really such a bitch in their own head as they are in real life?
I'm reminded of a 30 Rock scene in which we see that Liz's impressions of high school -- mainly that everyone shunned her because she was such a nerd -- were completely devoid of reality, and that it was she who was really the one who was harsh and outspoken. I had a similar experience with a friend a few months ago. It's less about what others think than the idea of not knowing myself: did I really do that? Did I really hurt you? I had no idea. The oblivion is unnerving. If really knowing someone is indeed somewhat dependent upon being okay with that space between the inner workings of my head and the outer manifestations thereof, then I don't really think I am very well acquainted with me.
I am perpetually frustrated that I am doomed to be trapped inside my own head, never able to see myself without an intimate knowledge of myself and my own neuroses. What does what we do for our own reasons look like to everyone else who is not privy to those incentives? What do other people see when they meet you? How does that change as they get to know you?
Anyway, one of my closest friends, JW, had an engagement party (in celebration of her engagement, of course, but also her civil union -- her husband, JD, is from out of the country, meaning lots of paperwork ahead that they'd like to settle sooner rather than later). When I met 2 of my fellow bridesmaids, her other best friends from college, the first words out of their mouths were, "this is the Tiff?" "It's so great to finally meet you!" Of course I had heard loads about them and was happy to finally meet them as well, but I was immediately caught off guard -- what does that mean? What could they possibly know about me that I don't? We talked for a while, and JW came over. "She's so great! I love her!" they said. "I know, right?" JW responded, as if there was something I wasn't in on; they'd clearly talked about this before. I honestly don't get it. I thought they were really nice and really cool, and we certainly share some interests, but I kept getting the nagging feeling there was something I was missing, and it weirded me out.
I admitted this to SM the next morning: what is it that people see that I can't? How drastic a difference is the sense of our selves we get in our own heads from the self we are actually projecting to others? Obviously I know no one else is privy to my inner monologue, but one thing SM brought up that I hadn't thought of before was that what I take for granted may be what others lack and what they like in me. For example, he said, his mother finds me to be "warm," and he used the word "genuine" too. In discussing what those descriptions could possibly mean, we mapped it back to what I always thought was just asking questions about people and things because I actually wanted to know. Apparently not everyone does that? I've also been accused of far worse -- being cold, being moody -- but in my head, there's always a reason, whether it's not knowing what to say; trying to internally wrestle with whether or not I'm doing the right thing; or watching my precious plans crumble before my eyes, leaving me helpless and clueless. Fortunately SM has learned to pick up on all of those things, and he knows how to read the situation and act or not act accordingly.
I'm sure everyone has their own reasons for everything, then, right? Is getting to know someone just familiarizing yourself with the differential between the inner workings of one's brain and the person you met that first time, the projection of that person in that first impression? Can you be close to someone without being familiar with that differential? Is Person X really such a bitch in their own head as they are in real life?
I'm reminded of a 30 Rock scene in which we see that Liz's impressions of high school -- mainly that everyone shunned her because she was such a nerd -- were completely devoid of reality, and that it was she who was really the one who was harsh and outspoken. I had a similar experience with a friend a few months ago. It's less about what others think than the idea of not knowing myself: did I really do that? Did I really hurt you? I had no idea. The oblivion is unnerving. If really knowing someone is indeed somewhat dependent upon being okay with that space between the inner workings of my head and the outer manifestations thereof, then I don't really think I am very well acquainted with me.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Yes, this is why I love Community
What he said.
Also, kudos to the AV Club for being my gold standard for pop culture criticism. I rarely give them direct shout outs, and, while they aren't necessarily my models, they certainly give validity to a lot of what I think about and how I make connections between things in that sphere.
While we're at it, hat tip to DMP for pushing me to watch Community in the first place.
Also, kudos to the AV Club for being my gold standard for pop culture criticism. I rarely give them direct shout outs, and, while they aren't necessarily my models, they certainly give validity to a lot of what I think about and how I make connections between things in that sphere.
While we're at it, hat tip to DMP for pushing me to watch Community in the first place.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Reluctant Symbology
Back when I first read Catcher in the Rye, it genuinely irked me that my English teacher harped on and on about symbols. Between the red hunting hat and those ducks, I just didn't buy that a writer would go through and plant all that crud for us to pore over the text and ferret out. As I got older, I started to appreciate that there are some writers out there who would do such a thing. However, throughout all of the films I studied in college, some of my skepticism surely remained. That said, I have to hand it to my high school English teachers: they sure beat that ferreting habit into me.
Just last week I went to a screening of Terrance Mallick's Badlands with a few friends. Last year we'd endured a Kurosawa series at the Gene Siskel Film Center together, and this year we'd contrived to setup our own Mallick series, only to find that the Music Box had already done it for us. Anyway, we saw Badlands and then headed to a barbecue together (first of the season!).
Fresh from the theater, the movie was, of course, on our minds. I prefaced my contribution to the group critique with a caveat: "I hate when people look for meaning and symbolism in works of art, especially film. You can just make up some bullshit, and as long as you run with it, carry it through to the paper's conclusion, you can pass. But..." I hesitated before submitting my question. "Do you think there's any significance in her father being a sign painter?" Before others could fully form their own arguments, I involuntarily began forming the answer to my own question, the clues coalescing into a college paper as I arranged the condiments onto my medium grilled hamburger. Fortunately, I suppose, DS saved me by offering up a tidbit Mallick's biographical history, that he was an aspiring academic, a Rhodes Scholar, before he was a filmmaker, in philosophy no less, so my search for significance beyond the screen and the text was most likely not in vain.
So here's my theory: of course it's significant that Holly's father is a sign painter. Whether he leads her on the right path or not, he serves as sole guider for a character who doesn't show any agency of her own until a brief and minute act of independence and self preservation near the end. the signs he paints are never shown to be direct commands, rather they are tableaus or brand names, passive declarations of what is and what should be in your life. Similarly, while he may have had questionable tactics, he sure had a lot of influence on how Holly lived her life, setting up rules and consequences that were outward manifestations of how he believed life should be, always demonstrative and never really explained by a man of few words.
[Spoiler alert] After Kit kills him, Kit's philosophy takes control over Holly in the place of her father. She comments on his behavior but still fails to act independently from him or even squirm under his guiding hand. But while her father had a demonstrative style of control in the form of figurative signposts (your dog has been shot: wrong way), Kit had a more passive, leash-like hold over her. Her life with Kit surprisingly holds no signs. For somewhat of a road trip movie, there is a noteworthy dearth of signage (not even highway names or exit signs): the only sign I remember seeing is one for Texaco at a gas station after she's already separated from him. For much of the movie they aren't even on roads.
DS made a point of insisting that this is not a film about morality, and I agree. There is a reason Holly's father is not portrayed as saintly or even good. As I said, his methods have something to be desired, but furthermore it's important to note that it's not clear where he was attempting to guide Holly to. My point is more to emphasize the fact that she was being guided at all. I may even go as far as saying there's a bit of a bildungsroman hidden in here, the apex of which is her decision to stop fleeing and submit to being apprehended by the police. It was actually somewhat of a relief for me to see her show some agency for once in the film. It's a small climax, but I think it's there nonetheless.
Part of me very much enjoys watching movies and other media with a critical eye. If you were to ask me, though, it's how it all comes together collaboratively and technically that I find exciting. I would argue that this also extends to the details of how exactly the idea/writing is portrayed onscreen, and so I don't completely ignore the craftsmanship of the writing. But when it comes to all those symbols, imagining someone painstakingly seeding that trail for the viewer to follow, another part of me just doesn't buy it. There are so many other things to worry about than tracing the movements of a red hat throughout a story, right? Luckily for whatever writer or director is out there ahead of me on the trail, though, I find myself seeing the signs, taking the bait again and again, and following them down. When I see Days of Heaven tomorrow as a part of this series, I suppose I'll have to see it with new eyes. I've gushed over the cinematography before, so I guess I'll have my eyes peeled for the next set of symbols Mallick throws my way. I might even write about it here. But I'll have you know, I won't be very happy about it.
Just last week I went to a screening of Terrance Mallick's Badlands with a few friends. Last year we'd endured a Kurosawa series at the Gene Siskel Film Center together, and this year we'd contrived to setup our own Mallick series, only to find that the Music Box had already done it for us. Anyway, we saw Badlands and then headed to a barbecue together (first of the season!).
Fresh from the theater, the movie was, of course, on our minds. I prefaced my contribution to the group critique with a caveat: "I hate when people look for meaning and symbolism in works of art, especially film. You can just make up some bullshit, and as long as you run with it, carry it through to the paper's conclusion, you can pass. But..." I hesitated before submitting my question. "Do you think there's any significance in her father being a sign painter?" Before others could fully form their own arguments, I involuntarily began forming the answer to my own question, the clues coalescing into a college paper as I arranged the condiments onto my medium grilled hamburger. Fortunately, I suppose, DS saved me by offering up a tidbit Mallick's biographical history, that he was an aspiring academic, a Rhodes Scholar, before he was a filmmaker, in philosophy no less, so my search for significance beyond the screen and the text was most likely not in vain.
So here's my theory: of course it's significant that Holly's father is a sign painter. Whether he leads her on the right path or not, he serves as sole guider for a character who doesn't show any agency of her own until a brief and minute act of independence and self preservation near the end. the signs he paints are never shown to be direct commands, rather they are tableaus or brand names, passive declarations of what is and what should be in your life. Similarly, while he may have had questionable tactics, he sure had a lot of influence on how Holly lived her life, setting up rules and consequences that were outward manifestations of how he believed life should be, always demonstrative and never really explained by a man of few words.
[Spoiler alert] After Kit kills him, Kit's philosophy takes control over Holly in the place of her father. She comments on his behavior but still fails to act independently from him or even squirm under his guiding hand. But while her father had a demonstrative style of control in the form of figurative signposts (your dog has been shot: wrong way), Kit had a more passive, leash-like hold over her. Her life with Kit surprisingly holds no signs. For somewhat of a road trip movie, there is a noteworthy dearth of signage (not even highway names or exit signs): the only sign I remember seeing is one for Texaco at a gas station after she's already separated from him. For much of the movie they aren't even on roads.
DS made a point of insisting that this is not a film about morality, and I agree. There is a reason Holly's father is not portrayed as saintly or even good. As I said, his methods have something to be desired, but furthermore it's important to note that it's not clear where he was attempting to guide Holly to. My point is more to emphasize the fact that she was being guided at all. I may even go as far as saying there's a bit of a bildungsroman hidden in here, the apex of which is her decision to stop fleeing and submit to being apprehended by the police. It was actually somewhat of a relief for me to see her show some agency for once in the film. It's a small climax, but I think it's there nonetheless.
Part of me very much enjoys watching movies and other media with a critical eye. If you were to ask me, though, it's how it all comes together collaboratively and technically that I find exciting. I would argue that this also extends to the details of how exactly the idea/writing is portrayed onscreen, and so I don't completely ignore the craftsmanship of the writing. But when it comes to all those symbols, imagining someone painstakingly seeding that trail for the viewer to follow, another part of me just doesn't buy it. There are so many other things to worry about than tracing the movements of a red hat throughout a story, right? Luckily for whatever writer or director is out there ahead of me on the trail, though, I find myself seeing the signs, taking the bait again and again, and following them down. When I see Days of Heaven tomorrow as a part of this series, I suppose I'll have to see it with new eyes. I've gushed over the cinematography before, so I guess I'll have my eyes peeled for the next set of symbols Mallick throws my way. I might even write about it here. But I'll have you know, I won't be very happy about it.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Long Live the '90s!
I remember turning to my brother during a late season episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and questioning what could possibly be pulled from the '90s and mocked like the '60s and '70s. Wow, have I eaten my words. Looking at Will, Hilary, and Ashley's hair styles and clothing now, they're obviously recognizable relics from that era. The main theme's song and the graphic design also immediately take me back to circa 1992, when I used to skip around the house with my family and recite the rap, complete with that last head twirl he gives before he knocks on the Banks' front door.
Of course, as with every passing decade, we have a lot to look back and laugh at. But we've gotten a lot of good stuff from the '90s too. One of the things I really miss about that time was that shows like Fresh Prince and The Cosby Show (check out those sweaters) could even be on and popular. They were especially important to me as a black girl who grew up in Minneapolis and went to a pretty affluent school to see black people who talked like I did, did their homework just like me, and had relatively stable family lives as I did at the time. However, I'm hard pressed to find such a message on primetime television today.
Nowadays, when we're not mocking the pop culture of the decade, we're often celebrating freedom from its tyranny of political correctness. I remember textbooks and classroom posters of multicultural groups of friends: there were always two white kids, a black kid, an Asian, or at least someone of an indeterminate, poly-ethnic brown, and maybe a kid in a wheelchair. I even laughed at the idealistic inclusiveness back then. On the other hand, though, as I've grown older, I realize that my friends are of all different races. While some black people I know are unsettled by my Facebook photos with my white friends, they really have no clue how much effort I've put into including many different levels of diversity in my life.
It's not like I go out looking for new and diverse friends (in fact, new people are one of the things I am most dubious about, and I often dread having to meet them). Rather, I have found it quite natural for me to be in the company of different types of people, and I am actually interested in how we all differ. I like to be aware of those diverse presences around me, because, honestly, it really weirds me out to be in an inverse situation. Both to be outnumbered and to outnumber to the point of exclusion makes me incredibly uneasy, whether it's blacks and whites, women and men, Christians and atheists. Even being a witness to it gives an eerie layer to whatever I'm watching.
I guess I can understand the feeling of liberation from PC pressure. I certainly get annoyed at overboard attempts myself. But sometimes I think people dismiss it because they think we're done, we did our part. Many people of myriad backgrounds fought hard to be able to portray a stable, middle class black family on television, and that it was popular was a boon. Done. But I'd wager that many others who had never met one of those families let the possibility of the existence of others like them enter their minds and were better off for it. And probably still others, like me, became that much more comfortable with themselves and maybe even made it their mission to get to know lots of different kinds of people. Why does that have to stop, especially now when the anonymity of the internet and the divisiveness of our political landscape reveals that there are multitudes of closed minds out there? The closest thing we're getting now is having a completely opposite effect, with atrocious and embarrassing works from the likes of Tyler Perry.
A lot of those textbooks we used to have looked so laughably forced, and the friend groups formed on TV had so many easily identifiable token characters. But hopefully there are people out there for whom those situations were real life, and they'll create something feels a lot more natural and real. I think there are network television shows like that out there now, like "Community" and "Parks and Recreation." (Not to mention shows like "The Wire" and "Treme" -- of course cable is producing quality, diverse work) Fortunately, there are others out there who grew up in the '90s who will soon be in charge of creating the media that's pouring out into the world.
Of course, as with every passing decade, we have a lot to look back and laugh at. But we've gotten a lot of good stuff from the '90s too. One of the things I really miss about that time was that shows like Fresh Prince and The Cosby Show (check out those sweaters) could even be on and popular. They were especially important to me as a black girl who grew up in Minneapolis and went to a pretty affluent school to see black people who talked like I did, did their homework just like me, and had relatively stable family lives as I did at the time. However, I'm hard pressed to find such a message on primetime television today.
Nowadays, when we're not mocking the pop culture of the decade, we're often celebrating freedom from its tyranny of political correctness. I remember textbooks and classroom posters of multicultural groups of friends: there were always two white kids, a black kid, an Asian, or at least someone of an indeterminate, poly-ethnic brown, and maybe a kid in a wheelchair. I even laughed at the idealistic inclusiveness back then. On the other hand, though, as I've grown older, I realize that my friends are of all different races. While some black people I know are unsettled by my Facebook photos with my white friends, they really have no clue how much effort I've put into including many different levels of diversity in my life.
It's not like I go out looking for new and diverse friends (in fact, new people are one of the things I am most dubious about, and I often dread having to meet them). Rather, I have found it quite natural for me to be in the company of different types of people, and I am actually interested in how we all differ. I like to be aware of those diverse presences around me, because, honestly, it really weirds me out to be in an inverse situation. Both to be outnumbered and to outnumber to the point of exclusion makes me incredibly uneasy, whether it's blacks and whites, women and men, Christians and atheists. Even being a witness to it gives an eerie layer to whatever I'm watching.
I guess I can understand the feeling of liberation from PC pressure. I certainly get annoyed at overboard attempts myself. But sometimes I think people dismiss it because they think we're done, we did our part. Many people of myriad backgrounds fought hard to be able to portray a stable, middle class black family on television, and that it was popular was a boon. Done. But I'd wager that many others who had never met one of those families let the possibility of the existence of others like them enter their minds and were better off for it. And probably still others, like me, became that much more comfortable with themselves and maybe even made it their mission to get to know lots of different kinds of people. Why does that have to stop, especially now when the anonymity of the internet and the divisiveness of our political landscape reveals that there are multitudes of closed minds out there? The closest thing we're getting now is having a completely opposite effect, with atrocious and embarrassing works from the likes of Tyler Perry.
A lot of those textbooks we used to have looked so laughably forced, and the friend groups formed on TV had so many easily identifiable token characters. But hopefully there are people out there for whom those situations were real life, and they'll create something feels a lot more natural and real. I think there are network television shows like that out there now, like "Community" and "Parks and Recreation." (Not to mention shows like "The Wire" and "Treme" -- of course cable is producing quality, diverse work) Fortunately, there are others out there who grew up in the '90s who will soon be in charge of creating the media that's pouring out into the world.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Adventures in Freelancing: Part 1
For nearly 2.5 years now, I've been working as a video producer for the University of Chicago. At first, (the producer portion of) the job manifested itself as merely the organizational counterpart to the editing and videography I'd done for the same office for a year and a half prior, but since then, my handle on the work has become adept and nuanced. There are so many aspects of a project that need to be monitored, from triple checking to make sure the client knows what he or she wants in the first place to actually delivering something they want to watch (often two very different things). This fine tuning of knowing what is required of me has become especially important since I changed over to working with mainly long-term, documentary/interview/promotional-type projects.
Recently I was offered the chance to apply this knowledge outside of the University bubble. I was never into the whole freelancing thing; freelancing is too unstable and feels too detached for me, and so I much prefer having a steady job. But the non-profit SM works for needed some help, and I'm always more than willing to offer my skills for a good cause.
The setup is this: around 15 short videos to support their new individual giving campaign. The videos are to be distributed with their newsletter beginning April 1, at the rate of one per week. They already have people prepared to shoot the video, but they want me to make sure the vision is fully carried out and that the videos are delivered on time.
I don't want to go into too much detail, but I've already learned a few lessons and taken a few notes on the differences I've encountered in this new experience.
1) Being organized is more important than I give it credit for. I often take my need for logical process for granted. Of course you should talk to the person asking you to do something to make sure you know what they want, how they want it done, and where exactly your expertise comes into the picture, right? Apparently not everyone thinks such a conversation is important. The need for a plan is an asset, and, even if you're just sorting things out for yourself, it makes you look like you know what you're doing, for the very reason that you want to know what you're doing.
2) Having centralized labor is SUCH a plus. One great thing about my normal workflow is that labor is not a variable I have to think about very often. We know that one of our regular pool of videographers will most likely be available, so we can concentrate on how the video is actually going to turn out rather than if the video's going to be shot at all. In this new situation, I have to depend on a crew I don't know and have no reason to trust, and while the logistics of the shoot are up in the air, I can't settle anything with how the video will turn out, including confirming that our potential interview subjects should actually prepare to be interviewed on a particular date and time. Of course, this is why freelancers own their own equipment. I would give a lot for my own camera right now, not to mention lighting equipment; I could just do most of the video myself, taking away personnel and equipment variables and focusing on the important stuff.
3) Professionalism is so essential. Being professional isn't using big words or wearing certain outfits. It's knowing what you need from people, clarifying what they need from you, and knowing how to communicate everything clearly and concisely. (I also happen to believe it also implies a level of honesty, but I suppose others could take or leave that.) When professionalism is missing from any side of the equation, it's hard to move forward and get things done.
4) There needs to be a balance of trust and supervision. In my weekday job such trust is normally a given, because I know my videographers and editors, and I mostly feel comfortable telling them when something's not up to snuff or when I don't understand something myself. (To be honest, I end up doing of shooting and editing myself, which is awesome.) But under these circumstances, I find that I'm prone to want to talk a lot around the issues, and I'm scared to actually dig in and get to it, especially if I can't be there every step of the way. It's part of why I hate being in charge of things, because I think it's easier to shoulder all of the responsibility, and if I mess things up, so be it, the blame will all be on me. But if I never let go and concentrate on the bigger picture like I'm supposed to, the project won't get done on time. At the same time, if I sense that something's not right, there's nothing wrong with keeping a keen eye on the situation and getting more comfortable speaking up when something's not up to snuff.
Now it's time to follow my own advice. I'll let you know how the videos turn out and if I learn anymore about freelancing along the way.
Recently I was offered the chance to apply this knowledge outside of the University bubble. I was never into the whole freelancing thing; freelancing is too unstable and feels too detached for me, and so I much prefer having a steady job. But the non-profit SM works for needed some help, and I'm always more than willing to offer my skills for a good cause.
The setup is this: around 15 short videos to support their new individual giving campaign. The videos are to be distributed with their newsletter beginning April 1, at the rate of one per week. They already have people prepared to shoot the video, but they want me to make sure the vision is fully carried out and that the videos are delivered on time.
I don't want to go into too much detail, but I've already learned a few lessons and taken a few notes on the differences I've encountered in this new experience.
1) Being organized is more important than I give it credit for. I often take my need for logical process for granted. Of course you should talk to the person asking you to do something to make sure you know what they want, how they want it done, and where exactly your expertise comes into the picture, right? Apparently not everyone thinks such a conversation is important. The need for a plan is an asset, and, even if you're just sorting things out for yourself, it makes you look like you know what you're doing, for the very reason that you want to know what you're doing.
2) Having centralized labor is SUCH a plus. One great thing about my normal workflow is that labor is not a variable I have to think about very often. We know that one of our regular pool of videographers will most likely be available, so we can concentrate on how the video is actually going to turn out rather than if the video's going to be shot at all. In this new situation, I have to depend on a crew I don't know and have no reason to trust, and while the logistics of the shoot are up in the air, I can't settle anything with how the video will turn out, including confirming that our potential interview subjects should actually prepare to be interviewed on a particular date and time. Of course, this is why freelancers own their own equipment. I would give a lot for my own camera right now, not to mention lighting equipment; I could just do most of the video myself, taking away personnel and equipment variables and focusing on the important stuff.
3) Professionalism is so essential. Being professional isn't using big words or wearing certain outfits. It's knowing what you need from people, clarifying what they need from you, and knowing how to communicate everything clearly and concisely. (I also happen to believe it also implies a level of honesty, but I suppose others could take or leave that.) When professionalism is missing from any side of the equation, it's hard to move forward and get things done.
4) There needs to be a balance of trust and supervision. In my weekday job such trust is normally a given, because I know my videographers and editors, and I mostly feel comfortable telling them when something's not up to snuff or when I don't understand something myself. (To be honest, I end up doing of shooting and editing myself, which is awesome.) But under these circumstances, I find that I'm prone to want to talk a lot around the issues, and I'm scared to actually dig in and get to it, especially if I can't be there every step of the way. It's part of why I hate being in charge of things, because I think it's easier to shoulder all of the responsibility, and if I mess things up, so be it, the blame will all be on me. But if I never let go and concentrate on the bigger picture like I'm supposed to, the project won't get done on time. At the same time, if I sense that something's not right, there's nothing wrong with keeping a keen eye on the situation and getting more comfortable speaking up when something's not up to snuff.
Now it's time to follow my own advice. I'll let you know how the videos turn out and if I learn anymore about freelancing along the way.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
An Honest Request
Hey friends,
Please call me on my bullshit. Do not allow me to wallow in ignorance and arrogance. For ignorance is one of my greatest fears, and its combination with arrogance is unthinkably sickening.
<3,
Tiffany
Please call me on my bullshit. Do not allow me to wallow in ignorance and arrogance. For ignorance is one of my greatest fears, and its combination with arrogance is unthinkably sickening.
<3,
Tiffany
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
ENHANCE
It's interesting that sometimes one viewing of a movie is more than enough, while other movies we strongly desire to see but never do. Still other movies we feel moved to watch multiple times. I recently saw The Conversation (dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1974) again, a movie I thought was great the first time, but didn't expect to give it multiple viewings.
The movie follows a lonely, paranoid freelance eavesdropper (Gene Hackman) who is hired to record the conversation of an anonymous couple as they walk through a public space. He is to hand over the tapes and get his $15,000 without asking questions, but for some reason he decides to grow a conscience, something he's never had in 20 years as a leader in the industry. As he gets more curious, caring, and interested, he also gets way too close and way too paranoid.
What I found really intriguing about the film the second time through was the similarities I saw with Antonioni's Blow Up (Italy, 1966). Both films focus on a craft and a technology that isn't very common (at least not to the degree on display in the film), and concentrates on those who hone that craft. In The Conversation, the medium is audio tape, and Harry Caul has the proper equipment to know just enough to get involved. In Blow-Up, Thomas works with film -- still images -- and his curiosity keeps him manipulating that image just enough to get sucked in. Both protagonists become obsessed with their technologies, and with the ability to enhance their media with the materials they have, they begin to lose focus.
By now, this is a familiar trope. In every television show with any hint of Science or Technology, we get the "enhance" scene. On each of those shows, though, we assume (and take that assumption for granted) that we're focusing on the right thing. The characters "enhance" the image or the audio, they get the results, and, of course, it's the very key to unraveling the case. The first image points out just how ridiculous that notion is, but these films take the concept to the opposite end of the spectrum: if you continue to enhance, you run the risk of losing perspective.
At the risk of completely over-thinking it (as I'm allowed to do here), I've come up with two ways to read these thrillers. First, in addition to focusing on solitary (possibly obsessive) men in solitary, yet well-honed crafts, both films highlight the thriller-like, voyeuristic aspect of their capabilities as well. The folks on CSI use their tools to fight crime, but I suppose if Harry or Thomas are the stand-ins for you and me, they are the protagonists of cautionary tales about the possibility of getting in over one's head. We'd best leave that stuff up to the professionals who work in groups, the mainstream says. The second interpretation I've come up with is reading the films as part of a sub-genre of the "rise of the machines" concept. There's a danger in both films of knowing too much, and the tools Harry and Thomas have at their disposal were clearly what allowed them to gain that much knowledge. There's so much we couldn't possibly know without new technologies at our disposal, and like so many other stories, from Metropolis to 2001: A Space Odyssey, these films convey the dangerous and lesser-known side of human innovations.
Perhaps these messages are combined into one, big, American "let the PROFESSIONALS handle this OR ELSE" theme running through our popular culture. I'm not quite sure where to go with it, but I guess I have to admit that watching someone get a clearer view of something boring or blowing up an image of something that doesn't help your case at all doesn't really make for interesting (read: lucrative) movies or television... Well, now you've got me thinking about "The Wire"...
EDIT (1/29/11): SM was perusing the Wikipedia page for The Conversation, and he confirmed that Blow-Up actually heavily influenced Coppola while he was writing the script. At least I know I'm not just making this stuff up.
The movie follows a lonely, paranoid freelance eavesdropper (Gene Hackman) who is hired to record the conversation of an anonymous couple as they walk through a public space. He is to hand over the tapes and get his $15,000 without asking questions, but for some reason he decides to grow a conscience, something he's never had in 20 years as a leader in the industry. As he gets more curious, caring, and interested, he also gets way too close and way too paranoid.
What I found really intriguing about the film the second time through was the similarities I saw with Antonioni's Blow Up (Italy, 1966). Both films focus on a craft and a technology that isn't very common (at least not to the degree on display in the film), and concentrates on those who hone that craft. In The Conversation, the medium is audio tape, and Harry Caul has the proper equipment to know just enough to get involved. In Blow-Up, Thomas works with film -- still images -- and his curiosity keeps him manipulating that image just enough to get sucked in. Both protagonists become obsessed with their technologies, and with the ability to enhance their media with the materials they have, they begin to lose focus.
By now, this is a familiar trope. In every television show with any hint of Science or Technology, we get the "enhance" scene. On each of those shows, though, we assume (and take that assumption for granted) that we're focusing on the right thing. The characters "enhance" the image or the audio, they get the results, and, of course, it's the very key to unraveling the case. The first image points out just how ridiculous that notion is, but these films take the concept to the opposite end of the spectrum: if you continue to enhance, you run the risk of losing perspective.
At the risk of completely over-thinking it (as I'm allowed to do here), I've come up with two ways to read these thrillers. First, in addition to focusing on solitary (possibly obsessive) men in solitary, yet well-honed crafts, both films highlight the thriller-like, voyeuristic aspect of their capabilities as well. The folks on CSI use their tools to fight crime, but I suppose if Harry or Thomas are the stand-ins for you and me, they are the protagonists of cautionary tales about the possibility of getting in over one's head. We'd best leave that stuff up to the professionals who work in groups, the mainstream says. The second interpretation I've come up with is reading the films as part of a sub-genre of the "rise of the machines" concept. There's a danger in both films of knowing too much, and the tools Harry and Thomas have at their disposal were clearly what allowed them to gain that much knowledge. There's so much we couldn't possibly know without new technologies at our disposal, and like so many other stories, from Metropolis to 2001: A Space Odyssey, these films convey the dangerous and lesser-known side of human innovations.
Perhaps these messages are combined into one, big, American "let the PROFESSIONALS handle this OR ELSE" theme running through our popular culture. I'm not quite sure where to go with it, but I guess I have to admit that watching someone get a clearer view of something boring or blowing up an image of something that doesn't help your case at all doesn't really make for interesting (read: lucrative) movies or television... Well, now you've got me thinking about "The Wire"...
EDIT (1/29/11): SM was perusing the Wikipedia page for The Conversation, and he confirmed that Blow-Up actually heavily influenced Coppola while he was writing the script. At least I know I'm not just making this stuff up.
Monday, January 17, 2011
A Post for JK: The List Issue
Some people hate lists. Admittedly, as I peruse my Google Reader every morning, the Top 5s or Top 10s give off a faint waft of desperation, a thinly-veiled call for more traffic on a website before they go all out and post a video. We all have to admit, though, that the ploy works. People are interested in spite of themselves.
Of course there are others who thrive on lists. This is my camp. There is so much information one can gather about yourself and others from a list-making session with friends. My favorite lists are those that smack of sharply personal preference, the ones that hint at an involved back-story or require an impassioned defense. I also enjoy the time capsule dimension of list-making; like Rob in High Fidelity (also, Rob's creator, Nick Hornby), I recognize the value of grooming one's lists and keeping them updated with one's current state of mind. They are always cumulative of your experiences until that point -- what you choose to remember and what you have since forgotten -- which is so interesting to think about: is the new roster a complete overhaul from the last? When did this element become a mainstay for nostalgia's sake as opposed to an earnest addition? Sometimes I like looking back on them to see what my limits were at the time or where I'd been. Sometimes it's a more tangible manifestation of my interests. I've encapsulated my current views below. There is no order to these rankings, and they are all subject to change, of course.
My top 5 books thus far (no order)
In the Heart of the Sea
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
East of Eden
The Once and Future King
Lord of the Flies
HM: A Farewell to Arms
Top 5 favorite authors
John Steinbeck
Jack Kerouac
Michael Chabon
J.D. Salinger
Doris Kearns Goodwin
My favorite movies of all time thus far (no order)
Pather Panchali (India, dir. Satyajit Ray, 1955)
The Passenger (Italy, dir. Michaelangelo Antonioni, 1975)
Apocalypse Now (USA, dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
Les Enfants du Paradis (France, dir. Marcel Carné, 1945)
Bringing Up Baby (USA, dir. Howard Hawks, 1938)
Breaking Away (USA, dir. Peter Yates, 1979)
Top 5 favorite cinematographers
Vittorio Storaro
Ellen Kuras
Haskell Wexler
Robert Elswit
Ernest Dickerson
HM: Subatra Mitra, Roger Deakins
Top 5 favorite bands of the 1990s (no order)
Alice in Chains
Soundgarden
Built to Spill
Beck
Radiohead
HM: The Sea and Cake, Stone Temple Pilots
Top 5 favorite contemporary bands
The National
OK Go
Vampire Weekend
The Black Keys
Spoon
HM: Animal Collective (but they haven't put out anything new since 2009, and I didn't like MPP nearly as much as anything they'd put out previously) and Wolf Parade
Top 5 favorite contemporary artists that aren't bands
Santigold
LCD Soundsystem
Jill Scott
Erykah Badu
Mayer Hawthorne
Top 10 favorite albums of all time
Graceland - Paul Simon
Kind of Blue - Miles Davis
A Love Supreme - John Coltrane
Kid A - Radiohead
The Band - The Band
Brothers and Sisters - Allman Brothers Band
Feels - Animal Collective
Rumours - Fleetwood Mac
Billy Breathes - Phish
Weezer (Blue) - Weezer
Note: there's no Beatles album here for fear that the debate would turn into a completely separate post. There's a Beatles album for whatever mood I'm in: looking for all killer, no filler pop? Rubber Soul. A crazy awesome wannabe concept album? Sgt. Pepper. A great transitional album into the world of weird? Revolver. The problem with these judging and ranking these albums for me is the trade off between albums of all 4-star songs, like Rubber Soul, or an album full of plenty of 5-star songs among a glut of 3-star songs. It's a long debate, and I don't want to get into it...yet.
Favorite opening tracks
All I Want - Joni Mitchell - Blue
The Boy in the Bubble - Paul Simon - Graceland
Airbag - Radiohead - OK Computer
Everything in Its Right Place - Radiohead - Kid A
The Song Remains the Same - Led Zeppelin - Houses of the Holy
The King of Carrot Flowers Pt 1. - Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Poppies - Marcy Playground - Marcy Playground
Angel - Massive Attack - Mezzanine
Taxman - Beatles - Revolver
Pt. 1: Acknowledgment - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Favorite closing tracks
Turn Into Something - Animal Collective - Feels
A Day in the Life - The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper
Sweet Lil Gal - Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker
Pt. 3: Pursuance/Pt. 4: Psalm - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Tomorrow Never Knows - The Beatles - Revolver
Top 5 favorite Beatles songs
Rain
Paperback Writer
It's All Too Much
Dear Prudence
Don't Let Me Down
Feel free to challenge me on any of these. What's on your favorites lists?
Of course there are others who thrive on lists. This is my camp. There is so much information one can gather about yourself and others from a list-making session with friends. My favorite lists are those that smack of sharply personal preference, the ones that hint at an involved back-story or require an impassioned defense. I also enjoy the time capsule dimension of list-making; like Rob in High Fidelity (also, Rob's creator, Nick Hornby), I recognize the value of grooming one's lists and keeping them updated with one's current state of mind. They are always cumulative of your experiences until that point -- what you choose to remember and what you have since forgotten -- which is so interesting to think about: is the new roster a complete overhaul from the last? When did this element become a mainstay for nostalgia's sake as opposed to an earnest addition? Sometimes I like looking back on them to see what my limits were at the time or where I'd been. Sometimes it's a more tangible manifestation of my interests. I've encapsulated my current views below. There is no order to these rankings, and they are all subject to change, of course.
My top 5 books thus far (no order)
In the Heart of the Sea
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
East of Eden
The Once and Future King
Lord of the Flies
HM: A Farewell to Arms
Top 5 favorite authors
John Steinbeck
Jack Kerouac
Michael Chabon
J.D. Salinger
Doris Kearns Goodwin
My favorite movies of all time thus far (no order)
Pather Panchali (India, dir. Satyajit Ray, 1955)
The Passenger (Italy, dir. Michaelangelo Antonioni, 1975)
Apocalypse Now (USA, dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
Les Enfants du Paradis (France, dir. Marcel Carné, 1945)
Bringing Up Baby (USA, dir. Howard Hawks, 1938)
Breaking Away (USA, dir. Peter Yates, 1979)
Top 5 favorite cinematographers
Vittorio Storaro
Ellen Kuras
Haskell Wexler
Robert Elswit
Ernest Dickerson
HM: Subatra Mitra, Roger Deakins
Top 5 favorite bands of the 1990s (no order)
Alice in Chains
Soundgarden
Built to Spill
Beck
Radiohead
HM: The Sea and Cake, Stone Temple Pilots
Top 5 favorite contemporary bands
The National
OK Go
Vampire Weekend
The Black Keys
Spoon
HM: Animal Collective (but they haven't put out anything new since 2009, and I didn't like MPP nearly as much as anything they'd put out previously) and Wolf Parade
Top 5 favorite contemporary artists that aren't bands
Santigold
LCD Soundsystem
Jill Scott
Erykah Badu
Mayer Hawthorne
Top 10 favorite albums of all time
Graceland - Paul Simon
Kind of Blue - Miles Davis
A Love Supreme - John Coltrane
Kid A - Radiohead
The Band - The Band
Brothers and Sisters - Allman Brothers Band
Feels - Animal Collective
Rumours - Fleetwood Mac
Billy Breathes - Phish
Weezer (Blue) - Weezer
Note: there's no Beatles album here for fear that the debate would turn into a completely separate post. There's a Beatles album for whatever mood I'm in: looking for all killer, no filler pop? Rubber Soul. A crazy awesome wannabe concept album? Sgt. Pepper. A great transitional album into the world of weird? Revolver. The problem with these judging and ranking these albums for me is the trade off between albums of all 4-star songs, like Rubber Soul, or an album full of plenty of 5-star songs among a glut of 3-star songs. It's a long debate, and I don't want to get into it...yet.
Favorite opening tracks
All I Want - Joni Mitchell - Blue
The Boy in the Bubble - Paul Simon - Graceland
Airbag - Radiohead - OK Computer
Everything in Its Right Place - Radiohead - Kid A
The Song Remains the Same - Led Zeppelin - Houses of the Holy
The King of Carrot Flowers Pt 1. - Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Poppies - Marcy Playground - Marcy Playground
Angel - Massive Attack - Mezzanine
Taxman - Beatles - Revolver
Pt. 1: Acknowledgment - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Favorite closing tracks
Turn Into Something - Animal Collective - Feels
A Day in the Life - The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper
Sweet Lil Gal - Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker
Pt. 3: Pursuance/Pt. 4: Psalm - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Tomorrow Never Knows - The Beatles - Revolver
Top 5 favorite Beatles songs
Rain
Paperback Writer
It's All Too Much
Dear Prudence
Don't Let Me Down
Feel free to challenge me on any of these. What's on your favorites lists?
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