Friday, March 23, 2007
"I'm not sure that it's *true*, though. I came by it through manipulating a principle of apocalyptic literature, and I'm not even sure I understand the principle as it applies directly to literature. Whether it has any metaphysical application at all, I don't know.
"But at the very least, pretending that it does preserves and highlights the simply stinky badness of sin, without which we're all (at best) Pelagians."
"'You almost had to put them back in the womb and let them be born again, in order to make them normal,' she said. 'But it's amazing, even in a very quick time, what a huge difference love and care in their lives can make.'"
I love this, too: "Had this been a project of the community, I would have been under holy obedience. Now I could do things my way.'"
more
(via Amy Welborn)
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The report is here (PDF). Link via Hit & Run. I'll keep linking to my old piece on prison reform until you read it....
Before I left New Haven, I tried to get Yale's guidebook for incoming freshmen to list the New Haven Courage chapter alongside its several "gay-affirming" resources. I left NH before I learned if I'd succeeded for the 2001-2 school year, and even if I did, I'd be shocked if that listing lasted into 2002-3.
FT link via Amy Welborn.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
And although there are scapegoats and victims in the movie, it was largely about one thing that I really felt was missing from Girard's book: guilty victims. I know he's hammering on the innocence of the scapegoats for a reason; but if you're going to have a comprehensive theory of victimization, and/or of Christian reconciliation (he seems to work hard to avoid the terms "mercy" and "forgiveness"), I really want to know what happens to the guilty people. I, uh, I take a personal interest, you know?
As for Edward II: The music is terrific. Tilda Swinton, for once, is awesome as a kind of Queen Bree van de Kamp, Homicidal Heterosexual Terrorist. I usually dislike Swinton's acting in general and her roles in Jarman movies in particular--he seems to use her as a Javanese shadow-puppet figure of Woman. And I have no problem with characters as silhouettes; but I do have at least potential problems with stories in which the men are allowed individuality, but the women get only iconicity. And that's happening in Edward II, I think, but I don't mind it because Swinton is so crazily compelling. ...Movie definitely falls into the typical Jarman traps described here. Despite the rancid atmosphere, it slid into sentimentality and self-pity, and I probably shouldn't've liked it as much as I did....
As for The Scapegoat: Although my fur was up and my claws out for the first half of the book, I eventually felt like I understood where Girard was going, and was pretty amazed by it. Still have problems with it, need to read it at least one more time, etc etc. Comments, recommendations and so on w/r/t Girard more than welcome. Am working on story about Herod now.
And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force.
--Matt. 11:12
"Moreover, in each of our earthly sins we create a spiritual sin that is of a piece with Satan's fall. When I sin, I am in a certain way joining with and endorsing the devil's fall. Which is to say (if what happens in heaven happens on earth) that I am joining with and endorsing all the evil, moral and natural, that we experience in this life. War, famine, disease, death: it's all a small price to pay for me not helping my wife fold laundry."
--then every time we sin, we're complicit, specifically, in the suffering of those we love. In every sin, we're saying, "Do it to Julia!"
This particular acre of metaphysics isn't my field; but the post was striking to me, so I figured I'd throw this thought out there for your comments.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Not actually a blogwatch, really just two links from Hit & Run: Kultur-Terror vs. Godzilla!... and Jim Webb on incarceration rates. Here's my 2003 piece on prison reform.
This is another good review, focusing on different elements of the show.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
We walked hand-in-hand down Blogwatch, like the first men on the moon...
My eternal Saint Patrick's Day post. A lot of people think the obvious American wannabe-ness, the green beer and all that, somehow make St Patrick's Day less awesome. I don't; why shouldn't there be a holiday that's really about America and immigration, even if it pretends to be about Ireland?
Amy Welborn: The Pope speaks with kids in a juvenile detention center. And why The Merchant of Venice is just unplayable now. (The Pacino version was about as good as I think you can get, really, and it was painful.)
Horror Roundtable: The best horror-movie soundtracks. My votes go to, probably in this order, Suspiria; Can of Worms Wide Shut; and La Chute de la Maison d'Usher. Via Sean Collins. (I'm not sure I'd count Vertigo as a horror movie--although I'm not sure I wouldn't--which is why it doesn't appear here.)
And I haven't yet read this First Things piece about Stephen King. But Pet Sematary and The Shining are among the most powerful novels I've ever read. The Dead Zone, Cujo, Christine, and even Misery have some pretty amazing moments. (Don't talk to me about IT.) Here--Stephen King and Dorothy Day, together at last!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
The Agitator: America, Land Beyond Parody.
Family Scholars: David Blankenhorn's new book, The Future of Marriage.
"He Do the Police in Different Voices": Eliot's discarded title for The Waste Land. I did not know that. Via First Things.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Also finally saw The Chimes at Midnight, which was fantastic--I'll blog more about the movie, and about Falstaff, probably this weekend.
The main thing that leaps out at me is that I thought I was being pessimistic about both war and not-war/status-quo/continuing-crisis. That isn't true. I was much too hopeful about the possible effects of war, and much too unwilling to accept that continuing-crisis might be the best of the bad options.
The blog posts don't get at the other bad features of my reasoning at the time: arrogance, and willful self-delusion about whether/to what extent the Iraq war was "pre-emptive." (That February post is a great example of the latter, in which I just totally refuse to engage the question.) But I wouldn't call those "mistakes" so much as sins.
I'm saying all this solely with regard to my own reasoning, not as a comment on other people's positions. But it should give you some idea of why I post on foreign policy hardly at all these days: I have a stronger sense of how much I don't know; and if I were somebody else, I'd see no reason to listen to me given my track record.
This is probably the best post I've made about war.
Monday, March 05, 2007
I know some people's experiences are very different from mine, but my experience of Sapphism was and is shot through with beauty, compassion, friendship, generosity, and forgiveness, like golden threads in cloth. Other people get that stuff without the problematic sexual stuff, but I can only work with the memories and experiences that I actually have, and many of my most intense experiences of recognizing beauty and being halfway okay at loving people come from being in love with ladies.
That's why I say that I'm "acting on my lesbian desires" when those desires prompt me to be less-horrible-than-usual about seeking Christ and serving Him and other people. Keep what you can, leave what you must, you know?
My fingers are dreaming and rolling in plunder
Of someone who waits only in memory,
Who calls in the rain and sighs in the thunder....
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Nearly a decade ago, at 14, Isshag started publishing a handwritten community newsletter about local events, arts and religion. Once a month she'd paste decorated pages to a large piece of wood and hang it from a tree outside her family's home for passersby to read.
But after western Sudan plunged into bloodshed and suffering in 2003, Isshag's publication took on a decidedly sharper edge, tackling issues such as the plight of refugees, water shortages, government inaction in the face of militia attacks, and sexual violence against women. Her grass-roots periodical has become the closest thing that El Fasher, capital of North Darfur state, has to a hometown newspaper. More than 100 people a day stop to check out her latest installments, some walking several miles from nearby displacement camps, she said.
more (via Virginia Postrel)
Saturday, March 03, 2007
that people would stop and give her blogwatch...
Hit & Run: Radley Balko comments on a Georgia bill to restrict "no-knock" raids. And an article I haven't read on private education in the Third World.
Sean Collins gets the last word on Eyes Wide Shut. I agree with him on some points and disagree on others, but honestly, if you care about the movie I suspect you will be better served just by the dialogue between us than by my attempt to fix it in place by responding again--so from here on, you're on your own! Link includes creepy pix of naked chix, so, you know, forewarned.
Some bishop surnamed Vasa says:
...The Candidates recite the Creed and then add their personal attestation and commitment. It is this personal commitment which constitutes the heart of their conversion to the Catholic Faith. The phrase which is added is this: “I believe and profess all that the Holy Catholic Church teaches, believes and proclaims to be revealed by God.” It is a moment of great freedom; a moment of abandonment of oneself into the hands of God and into the teachings of the Catholic Church. It is an unconditional “yes” to Jesus while at the same time recognizing that we may never completely know all that this “yes” entails.
lots more (via Amy Welborn)
--Mark 8:22-25
Such a compelling moment, not only because of the humiliating nature of the healing touch, but also because this is a healing that proceeds in stages, rather than all at once. I'd guess that Jesus has that whole uncanny "Do you see anything?"/"I see men; but they look like trees, walking" exchange with us pretty often.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
...He was leashed (a detail omitted in the log but recorded by investigators) and made to “stay, come, and bark to elevate his social status up to a dog.” He was told to bark like a happy dog at photographs of 9/11 victims and growl at pictures of terrorists. ...The interrogators quizzed him on passages from a book entitled, “What makes a Terrorist and Why?,” that asserted that people joined terrorist groups for a sense of belonging and that terrorists must dehumanize their victims as a way to avoid feelings of guilt at their crimes.
--"Medical Ethics and the Interrogation of Guantanamo 063"; via Sean Collins. The descriptions of sleep deprivation and manipulation of temperature are also very much worth reading, since these are techniques people often minimize and defend.
...One way of looking at the Old Testament is as a simple story: God makes man (Genesis 1-2), God loses man (Genesis 3), God tries to woo man back (Genesis 4-Malachi 3).
more
and:
...The first human words quoted in Genesis are of a man's delight at his wife. The last human words quoted in Revelation are of a woman's delight at her husband. Christ's marriage with the Church restores the unity intended from the beginning.
Mankind's first liturgical act produced a human victim. So does (so must, you might say) the final liturgical act. (Which is why, I suppose, the Church's liturgy cannot be other than a re-presentation of Christ's sacrifice. "It is finished," as He said, and if we are doing something else or something more, then we are in some way continuing the line of insufficient liturgies offered between Abel's death and Jesus'.)
more
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
2. Nat Hentoff writes:
...In 2002, Arar, a software engineer and citizen of Canada, was kidnapped and flown by the CIA to Syria, where for 10 months he was held in an underground cell seven feet high, three feet wide, and six feet deep ("like a grave," he said). The persistent tortures he underwent finally forced him to make a false confession of connections to Al Qaeda.more (via Mark Shea)
On his release, Syrian officials admitted there was a total lack of evidence against him. Then, after a two-year inquiry and its 1,200-page report by a Canadian commission--in which the United States refused to participate--Dennis O'Connor, the chief justice of the Ontario Court of Appeal, said, "I'm able to say categorically that there is no evidence to indicate that Mr. Arar has committed any offense or that his activities constitute a threat to the security of Canada." ...
On December 7, 2006, the commissioner of the RCMP, Giuliano Zaccardelli, resigned because he had mishandled the case, saying he had "made a mistake" in not being aware of the false information the RCMP had given the CIA.
In this country, you will not be surprised to learn, no one--at the CIA, the Justice Department, or in Dick Cheney's office of "dark arts"--has resigned or admitted any error at all.
Instead, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales was asked at a press conference whether the Justice Department might at least offer Arar--who can't find a job and still suffers from the effects of his stay in the grave-like Syrian cell--an apology. Astonishingly, since Arar's ordeal has been reported in detail in mainstream American newspapers as well as in the foreign press, Gonzales actually said: "We were not responsible for Mr. Arar's removal to Syria. I'm not aware that he was tortured, and I haven't read the [Canadian] commission report. He was initially detained because his name appeared on terrorist lists, and he was deported according to our immigration laws."
The attorney general did not mention that his Justice Department approved the removal of Arar or the special accommodations for Arar in a CIA plane, bound not for Canada, where he is a citizen, but for Syria's torture chambers. And Gonzales has yet to answer the insistent questions on that brutal rerouting from senators Leahy and Arlen Specter.
3. Washington Post story on the DC Archdiocese's promotion of Confession--ads, how-to guides, extended confessional hours, and more. Via Amy Welborn.
...Regular celebration of this sacrament [of Penance and Reconciliation, alias "Confession"] will help you form your conscience; it will give you strength in your daily fight against sin; and it will help you to gain the full freedom that is yours as children of God. ...
Let us remind our culture of people like Blessed Luis Magna Servin, one of our newest American blesseds, a devoted husband and father, martyred in Mexico in 1928. Facing a firing squad, he was able to speak words of forgiveness to the soldiers about to execute him: “I pardon you and I promise you that on arriving in the presence of God you are the first ones I will intercede for. Viva Cristo Rey! Viva Santa Maria de Guadalupe!”
--Abp. Gomez of San Antonio's pastoral letter on the Sacrament of Reconciliation (via Amy Welborn b/c I can't open PDFs on this computer, but the entire letter is here)
--General Matsui Iwane, quoted in Iris Chang, The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II
The Rat gave me this book a few years ago, and I'm really glad I finally got around to reading it. A harrowing history of savage cruelty, incredible courage, and politically-expedient amnesia.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
...In Christian nomenclature, the so-called “humiliating names” or “shameful names” form a distinctive group. These names, when not defamatory, were sometimes used by some faithful as a life-long act of modesty, precisely because of their unpleasant significance…
more (via Amy Welborn)
But. Once again, this is a fantasy of salvage, in which the characters pay terrible costs. The underlying idea of the book reminded me strongly of a bit of writing advice I read once: "When you don't know what to do with your plot, take your character and figure out what would be the absolute worst thing to befall this particular person. Then do that."
I really, really liked how Powers portrayed the shifts of strength and weakness in his characters, the stiffening of resolve and the exhausted surrender. It's easy to write about the moment of declaration, much harder to write about the temptations and backsliding and grueling loneliness of life afterward.
I also felt like the emotional payoffs were more evenly-distributed throughout the book than they were in Last Call (and yeah, I realize this cuts against my uncertainty about the book's structure). I'm glad I read this, and I'd definitely recommend it (after you read Declare, though!).
And yes: I love the title.
Some thoughts on Eyes Wide Shut--a movie, I should say, that I'm still mulling over. It can't be dismissed, even if my ultimate judgment remains "tries hard, finds subject difficult." I apologize, once more, for the length of this.
First, The American Scene links to Lee Siegel's defense of the movie. The first half of it isn't addressed to me, since I was well-served by Sean Collins's previous discussion of the movie (I'm pretty sure that's why I Netflix'd it) rather than ill-served by hype and anti-hype. But I thought this was right-on and worth highlighting:
...In the novel, the password Bill uses to gain entrance to the orgy is "Denmark." In the movie, it is "Fidelio." Remarkably no critic I've quoted even brought up the password. This is a pretty bad lapse for reviews that called Kubrick's meditation on marriage an empty aesthetic exercise, since the opera Fidelio is Beethoven's hymn to conjugal love. Indeed, Kubrick structures his film with gorgeously subtle references to Fidelio and Christmas and Ovid and Homer though none of the critics here interpreted any of these allusions either. Nothing of the sort exists in Schnitzler's tale.
review is here
Siegel also says this:
...Our tame middle-class critics so wanted Kubrick's orgy to be dark and dangerous and full of sexual energy, but Kubrick wanted to show that sex without emotion is ritualistic, contrived, and in thrall to authority and fear. He was too wild for them. Everyone droned on about how unerotic Kubrick's orgy is, but no one talked about how intensely erotic is Bill's fantasy of Alice
making love with the naval officer. It is so erotic because Alice is the object not only of Bill's desire but also of his love.
I think the first point is probably right (and therefore I was wrong to want the orgy scene to have the lambent eroticism of the best parts of O), but I didn't find the Alice-fantasy scenes erotic at all. The black-and-white felt cliched; the whole thing did. That actually worked for me--I'm thinking that jealous fantasies, like most projections of the self onto the beloved, are usually cliched.
There's lots of other close-reading-y stuff in Siegel's review, some of it acute and some of it... well, maybe. It's very much worth reading (despite its defensiveness) if you are interested in the movie.
I agree with Sean that we've probably reached the "agree to disagree" point (although I am still mulling). I do want to say two (relatively) quick things, the first a clarification of a place where I think my poor phrasing gave the wrong impression and the second an acknowledgment of a place where Sean is probably right about our divergent reactions to the movie. (Oh, and he shouldn't feel weird about bringing up my underlying beliefs--I totally agree with him that our differences there are part of what's going on here.)
The first: I think my second post, especially, at times implied something I don't believe on either a religious or an aesthetic level: that children are what makes marriage real. On a religious level, this isn't my belief. (I was reminded of something I noticed during those theology of the body seminars I went to over the summer--when Jesus points to Adam and Eve as models of married life, He's pointing to a marriage that doesn't, as yet, have children. They do eventually--Cain, founder of cities!--but they serve as models for men and women before that happens.) On an aesthetic level, I definitely think you could remove Helena from Eyes Wide Shut and still have an earthquake in the marriage be big enough for the impact the movie wants.
My point was more that once you introduce Helena, you have to use her either mechanistically or symbolically, and the movie chose the former. She's a token to raise the stakes of infidelity at the outset, and she's a reward at the end, but she isn't affected by her parents' discord and she doesn't affect them; and I think that's both untrue-to-life and a missed narrative opportunity.
In the hypothetical EWS-without-Helena, I am pretty sure the final lines would still feel like mutual self-absorption to me. Some bad alchemy of dialogue/concept and performance made it come across as wish-fulfillment (this may just be me, but I felt like Kidman's voice even went kind of candy-colored at the very end), a return to status quo ante, an attempt to resolve the problem of sex by ignoring it. What Mrs. Dr. proposes is both necessary and radically insufficient for addressing what they've been through. I didn't buy that she would suggest it so soon, and I also thought the movie didn't recognize its insufficiency. The weird irrelevant-presence of Helena only heightened the underlying problems with the scene.
Second thing: Sean suggests that we diverged on the movie because he was reading its ending as a depiction of guilt and shame and I was reading it as a narrative about sin. That might be a big part of it, yeah. It's possible we're using words in different ways, here, but I think part of my problem is that in my view shame (especially) often traps people, forces a kind of miserable ingrowing of the personality, a self-swallowing that's both terribly painful for the person undergoing it and totally useless to himself and anyone around him. The language of sin, by contrast, implies the possibility and requirement of repentance and redemption; a particular person may not fulfill that requirement, but it's still embedded in the language.
And so while I saw Dr Harford as consumed by shame in his breakdown, that to me is not a state of mind that leads to resolution (or anything good!), and so I was disconcerted to see it (and its characteristic absence of actions of repentance, vs. expressions of misery) presented as the means to a renewed marriage....
I know I said before that my problem was Cruise's performance--he wasn't amazing enough to sell me on repentance-without-change--and now I think I'm saying something slightly different, that no matter how good his performance I still would have read it as shame rather than penitence. I'm not sure which is right; maybe both.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Of all the names I've been called in my life, "Madam Chairsquid" is one of them.
*waves tentacles menacingly*
Sunday, February 18, 2007
It has been only a few months since Zangmo and her friend fled Tibet on foot over the Himalayas to this squat, block-shaped center for Tibetan refugees in India. The two women had been imprisoned along with a group of other nuns, some for as long as sixteen years. They were first arrested in 1990 for staging a protest in Lhasa, the capital of Tibet, to demonstrate their outrage over China's continuing presence in their native land. As the women chanted "Free Tibet," Chinese police moved quickly, knocking them to the ground and dragging them to jail before their protest could attract attention. Inside the prison, Chinese authorities subjected the nuns to a brutal routine. "Police stuck electric prods into my vagina and then hung me from the ceiling," Zangmo says softly. Her voice doesn't waver, but she looks away. Some of her friends lost consciousness as soon as guards pushed the cattle prods inside them, but Zangmo remained alert throughout the torture. "I was totally, totally frightened," she says.
Police eventually transferred the women to Drapchi, the most feared prison in Lhasa. According to human rights organizations like the International Campaign for Tibet, there are hundreds of political prisoners in Tibet, the majority of them Buddhist clergy. Scores have died from torture at the hands of Chinese authorities: electric shock, hanging, forced blood extraction.
"They tried to pull my arms out of my sockets, and beat my legs and arms with metal bars and shocked me," recalls Phuntsog Nyidron, another nun who was imprisoned at Drapchi. "I was worried they could easily kill me." After repeated beatings, a monk named Lobsang Choephel hanged himself at Drapchi, his body dangling from the iron bars of his cell.
The punishment was most severe for those who refused to give up their faith. "In Drapchi, there were numerous demonstrations," Zangmo says. One day, four nuns refused to renounce their Buddhist beliefs in front of the Chinese guards. "They were beaten until they died." Zangmo stares at the floor and starts to cry, her voice breaking. "They died together." [...]
In public, China has announced new policies promoting tolerance of Buddhism. Beijing has lavished funds on restoring the Potala Palace, for example, and thrown open monasteries to tourists. But across the city from the Potala, a senior monk living in a crumbling earthen hut describes what is really happening. "Plainclothes security are all over the monastery," he tells me.
"There's never a time when the monks are together that the public security bureau isn't watching them. The Chinese hold 'patriotic campaigns,' and all the monks are forced to renounce the Dalai Lama."
Like many Tibetans I speak with, the monk asks that his name not be used, for fear of reprisals. Chinese security agents, he says, have cracked down on interactions with foreign visitors. "When I first came here, it wasn't illegal for monks to talk to foreigners," the monk says. "Now it is."
more (via The Rat)
After watching the film of Children of Men*, I didn't go back to P.D. James's originating novel, which I've never read, but farther back, to Brian Aldiss's Greybeard, first published in 1964, a novel I last read somewhere between ten and fifteen years ago.
I went back to Greybeard because other than remembering that it is about a future Earth where humans are infertile, I had no memory of its incidents or characters, only a vague recollection of the book's tone and affect, which I remembered as being like a soft, pastoral requiem -- immensely lyrical, unbearably and unrelievedly sad.
more
First of all, I should reiterate that the whole "EWS as horror movie" thing is 100% Sean Collins's insight, and 0% mine. A couple people have given me props for it, so again, it isn't my idea, and I doubt I would ever have gotten it on my own. Viewing EWS as a horror movie totally added not only to my understanding of the movie, but also to my enjoyment of it, so I'm really grateful to Sean for getting it.
Anyway. Josiah Neeley writes:
...A friend of mine, who is a bit of a womanizer, says that it's the scariest movie he's ever seen. I'm not so sure I agree that the movie is about committing adultery in your heart, though. What drives Cruise throughout the film is not really lust so much as a semi-conscious desire to "even the score" and thereby get rid of the feeling that he's been cuckolded. (The scene where those random street toughs bump into Cruise and shout anti-gay slurs at him is illustrative of this). What set Kidman off, and led her to tell Cruise about the soldier in the first place, was the fact that Cruise wasn't jealous when told that another man was hitting on his wife but was instead turned on by the thought. So I think the film is more of a psychological thriller than a moral one. Cruise is presented a with a series of temptations that normally wouldn't be much of a temptation (just as the girls at the party at the beginning of the film weren't a real temptation for him), but because of what's happened with Kidman he feels almost compelled to give in. Each temptation is more depraved than the last (first plain adultery, then prostitution, then basically child prostitution,and finally a sadistic orgy) representing a kind of descent into hell, until the woman dying after the party snaps him out of it enough that he can actually *talk* to his wife about it all.
The good girl/bad girl thing was interesting. What would you make of the fact that the woman who saves Cruise at the end is the one who he saves at the beginning of the film?
My only real complaint with the film aesthetically was that stupid music that played throughout the second half of the film whenever there wasn't any dialogue (made more annoying by my sense that the only reason it was there was to fill up the silence). That doesn't have anything to do with what you wrote. But it's something I've been wanting to get off my chest for a while now.
Quickly: I think the sequence of events reinforces my belief that the movie is centrally concerned with "adultery in one's heart." Kidman's character commits it, then needs reassurance that her sin was important, and her insistence precipitates the rest of the film's events, all of which are mental/spiritual rather than carnal.
As for the "bad girls" question... I think, if anything, the point Josiah raises makes the movie creepier. The well-being of the women Ziegler et al. exploit is explicitly raised as a major issue... and then just dropped.
Sean Collins responds to my review here. Some thoughts:
To return to the horror framework, we can consider Bill and Alice Harford (but mostly Bill) to be this film's "final girl." Sure, he survived, but I challenge you to listen to the way he sobs "I'll tell you everything," or see the red eyes of his wife after he does so, or listen to that sadder and wiser conversation they have at the toy store in the film's final scene, and say nothing has changed for them.
He's totally right about Dr Harford as the "final girl." And this is the point where I'm most willing to admit that my own preferences may be skewing my response to the movie. I'm really, really resistant to professions of feeling bad--especially male professions of feeling bad, see above re possibly skewed response to movie--unless accompanied by changes in behavior. I think if I had entered into Cruise's performance in that scene, many of my problems with the movie would have dissipated; I can think of actors who could probably have sold me on his misery. But you have to be really, really, really good to sell me on repentance without change.
I understand that Cruise's character feels really bad. People feel really bad about what they do all the time. And then they "walk back in the revolving door, and do it all again." Some of that is just life. But some of it is a genuine question (which yeah, I put to myself all the time) of how much you're really sorry, if you don't actually change your life.
PS: With regards to their daughter, the absence of any major plot points concerning which was a big sticking point for Eve, I just didn't think she played a particularly relevant part in their erotic and sexual lives. Given what I know to be Eve's political and philosophical bedrock, I can see why this might strike her as a lacuna; given my own sexual outlook, it didn't.
So... it's okay that Helena is marginal to her parents' erotic and sexual lives, because actual children are marginal to their parents' ditto? Yeah, that isn't persuasive to me.
Moreover, Helena is a wasted opportunity from a narrative perspective. I said in my earlier post that the obvious sex as generativity vs. sex as destruction dichotomy wasn't the only way to use Helena; there are about a million ways she could be made important, in the way that actual children are important to their actual parents' erotic lives. She's a daughter, for example: Can Dr Harford look at her without wondering if she will grow up to be misused by men? She's a sign of hope, that no matter how much two people screw up their relationship, they can still produce a child unearned and amazing. She's a sign that his relationship with his wife is about more than just the two of them: Both of them have bonds of responsibility that extend far beyond the self, to a dependent child who loves them.
I really thought the movie was setting us up for some payoff there, in part because Mrs. Dr. makes it clear that her imaginary soldier fling happened after her child was born. I thought the movie's ending would move its protagonists (Josiah Neeley's email suggests why maybe Kidman's character should be considered as much a protagonist as her husband) into the realm of deepened responsibility that comes with deepened love. Instead, Helena runs ahead of and away from them, as their final lines reinforce their mutual self-absorption. Their child really is treated as an accessory to the central fact of their couplehood. It's hard for me to believe that Dr Harford has substantively changed his attitude toward vulnerable women when he seems so uninterested and perfunctory toward his own daughter.
Again, I definitely don't think we're supposed to feel that Bill had no responsibility to the woman at the orgy (or Leelee Sobieski, for that matter) other than "to avoid them," nor that he was untouched by guilt over what befell them thanks to his unwillingness to do anything about it. In an ideal/real world he'd have called the cops the next day, but in the dream logic of the film, he woke up, and by then it's too late to go back and rescue characters from your nightmare.
Okay, I think I understand the nature of Sean's criticism here--it's a point about genre. It's absurd to think that Alice would be concerned about, I don't know, the Red Queen's political prisoners, after her return from Wonderland. You wake up, and while your dream can still affect you, you can no longer affect the dream.
That helplessness might be experienced as tragedy. And exploring or at least showing that tragedy might have "redeemed" EWS for me. It's hard to say, because I don't think the movie actually presents this helplessness as tragic.
It's also really hard for me to see EWS as a dream-narrative for two reasons: 1. Yeah, sexual exploitation of women is a lot more normal than cards cutting off people's heads for tart mismanagement. The movie wants the emotional frisson of real sexual cruelty, with no corresponding responsibility.
2. There's no "entering the dream" moment. The colors are already intensified, the music already insistent, from the first moment. The Wizard of Oz was obvious, and I understand that you can use other methods to shift into dream-narrative, but I don't think I can identify a moment when EWS shifted from black-and-white to Technicolor. It did obviously shift back at the end, though. And while on one level I think that's right--we do slip slowly into dreams (and into sin), while often jerking sharply out of them--on another level it made it really hard for me to view the orgy/exploitation scenes as make-believe, something the characters could leave behind once they awoke.
Look, I know that "in dreams begin responsibilities" is a cliche, but... it's kind of frustrating to me that I think all my problems with EWS are really the same problem repeated in different places, and if that problem were solved in even one place, I would probably be able to suspend my disbelief about the other places. I really wanted to like this movie: It's amazing to look at, and, like I said, I thought the leads were good and the basic idea behind the movie was awesome. And then I felt like it failed to deliver on its promise.
Um. Sorry for writing a book, here, people. I hope this was interesting to someone. Like I said, I really do think you should watch this if it sounds even remotely interesting.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I recently finished an earlier Powers novel, Last Call. I don't have a huge amount to say about it. It struck me as fantasy-horror, not just fantasy. Lots of people I like get really into Tarot symbolism and Jungian whatnot; if you're one of those people, I'm pretty sure I can guarantee that this novel will flip your switch. For me, Tarot was a passing fancy, whereas the Cambridge spy ring (implicated in Declare) was true love.
But I'll say two things for sure: 1.) This novel reminded me of everything I love about Stephen King. The gritty, blue-collar atmosphere; the battle between self-deception and self-knowledge; the descriptions of alcohol and need. Susan, in Last Call, reminded me strongly of both Pet Sematary and The Shining--and those are the King novels I think will still be remembered "when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits." I need to re-read Dostoyevsky's Gambler; but even the fact that this book reminded me of that one should let you know how painful and acute it was.
2.) I was okay with this book until the last, let's say, 150 pp. Then I needed to know. I stayed up all night reading. My heart pounded. Partly, okay, yes, that's because Last Call tapped into my deep-rooted obsessions with humiliation and sacrifice. But I'm pretty sure that, whoever you are, it taps into some of your deep-rooted obsessions too.
I think maybe all great fantasy is about salvage. Great fantasy, I think maybe, requires characters to sacrifice everything on behalf of something; and it's the everything and the something which determine the story.
1. Sean Collins is obviously right that it's a horror film. He gets at lots of the details that make it "'Eyes Wide Shut,' from the director of 'The Shining'!", and I agree with every word of his write-up; but I think he misses the dumb basic point: Most horror films have the moral, "Don't!" And in that sense, EWS is a horror movie about committing adultery in your heart.
Don't.
2. It's so amazing, as a movie. The colors are astonishing--the cobalt blues and neon oranges of Van Gogh's madness. The acting--I honestly didn't know that Nicole Kidman or Tom Cruise could act at all, and now... yeah, okay. I get it. Especially for Kidman. She's melodramatic in a way that makes it part of her character and her world; she makes every studied gesture a statement about the world in which all her gestures would need to be studied and perfect. The rushing, pulsing camera was amazing, especially in the taxi scenes. The ideas behind the movie--what if sex were the instrument of horror? what if physical contact weren't necessary for that to happen?--are brilliant.
3. But.
The movie pulls back before the brink--before every brink. How are its protagonists changed by the end? What have their experiences cost them? I can't think of anything.
The Cruise-Kidman couple have a daughter. I thought perhaps she would be the key to the movie: sex as generativity vs. sex as destructive weapon. That didn't happen, which is fine--that particular opposition is something I feel like I understand pretty well, and I'd really be more intrigued by alternative dichotomies. (Horror, I think, feeds on dichotomies.) But Helena's role in the plot turned out to be deeply disturbing to me: It seemed like she was a token doled out to the survivors as a reward for good behavior--like the blue and pink molded plastic figurines in the LIFE boardgame.
4. Nudity. EWS needed (female) nudity, in the way that Pauline Reage's Story of O needs explicit descriptions. The movie tried hard to get us to recognize that we weren't seeing girls' bushes for no reason: The huge painting of a naked lady, in Ziegler's suite, was probably the most obvious example. Her genitals were always hidden--ostentatiously hidden--by the scenery, whereas the actual genitals of the actress who played Ziegler's brief inamorata were constantly on display. So clearly we're supposed to think something about the fact that women's bodies (and not male bodies, ever) are displayed for us here.
Well... not only did EWS ignore the most startling and compelling moods of O (the sunlight slanting through late afternoon) in favor of a cliched Black Mass orgy. More importantly, the strictures of Hollywood stardom (maybe?) required that Kidman never get quite as naked as her female cohorts. So we see them from the front, but she's only naked from the back. That difference reinforces the sense already invited by the movie's ending: There are good girls and bad girls. Good girls shouldn't be cheated on, even in your head, and you should have sex with them and display their nudity tastefully from the back. Bad girls may get killed and raped and even photographed in full-frontal, and your only responsibility is to avoid them. No guilt attaches to you if you leave them to be destroyed.
In the end, I think EWS is a shocking, brilliant, hollow movie. Deep on the outside; shallow within.
I've tried to write this post about fifteen times now, and keep failing; so, despite my total failure to explain why, please, please pray for all our soldiers, past and present. Every one I know is keeping his or her honor brighter than the day.
edited to give the guy his proper rank
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
...The lead interrogator at the DIF had given me specific instructions: I was to deprive the detainee of sleep during my 12-hour shift by opening his cell every hour, forcing him to stand in a corner and stripping him of his clothes. Three years later the tables have turned. It is rare that I sleep through the night without a visit from this man. His memory harasses me as I once harassed him.
more
(via Mark Shea and Unqualified Offerings)
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
It's... well, it's sort of the miniature Sabbath's Theater. That's just not possible, really: Sabbath's Theater is Roth's masterwork (so far), a novel completely one-step-beyond--not a "good Roth novel," but a great thing in the world. It's devastating, and its length is part of how it gets its effects. Everyman is necessarily diminished by the contrast. But the themes, and the musicality of the writing, are similar: Everyman has the same rhythm of crescendo and new movement, or diminuendo and new movement, or repeated motif. Its structure isn't dependent on plot, on causal connection, but on a rhythm of intensity, relief, and exhaustion.
When Ratty told me about the explanation of the title (it's the name of the jewelry store owned by the protagonist's father), I was skeptical. Why would you need an explanation? Either the book earns the archetypal title or it doesn't. But when I got to the passage where the store gets named, it was really powerful: commerce vs death (diamonds are forever), assimilation vs outsider status (if you call yourself "everyman," maybe every man will buy from you), an attempt to resolve all the conflicts on both the ethnic and the metaphysical levels of the American Dream.
I really, really liked this.
It's... ooohh. It's bright and tangy and kicky and all those fun things. So far I've used it on my normal spaghetti sauce (= chop up garlic, plum tomatoes, mushrooms, and sweet onions) in place of olive oil, and that was great. Throw in cayenne, though, because this isn't really spicy.
But the real fun comes when you get an avocado all up in there. Go and get yourself a black, very slightly yielding avocado--ripe but not squishy. You want an avocado that will kind of mash when you try to cut it. Then coarsely chop some garlic; simmer it in this awesome simmer sauce; chop yourself a tomato, this avocado you've found (a really ripe one is incredibly easy to skin and pit--just cut halfway through until you hit the pit, then cut around the pit, then cut around the rind or scoop out the innards), a medium-sized jalapeno, whatever else you want. Cookity cookity. Maybe a bit more simmer sauce. Chop up some asadero cheese: very melty, very yummy.
I've been having this with pasta, which I realize is unorthodox; for me, it worked out, and I'd suggest a pasta like fusilli or rotelle (not penne--too thin--or spaghetti), but others will prefer this as a spread for thick toast, or some other thing. The pasta dishes reheat brilliantly in the microwave. If you do this as a pasta topping, just cook the pasta; drain it; butter it significantly (don't skimp! Butter makes it better!); mix in the asadero cubes; then top with this amazing avocado thing you've created.
It's so good. I really want to try mojito-sauce beef chili. (And this!) I usually prefer to cook from scratch, but this is just exceptionally awesome and fun.
"we aren't who we are"....and of course, neither is Iago: "I am not what I am."
Didn't notice that.
* It's possible--I'm not saying it's a good idea, I'm just saying it's possible--to consider Alyosha Karamazov as a zoon politikon. This isn't really true of the other brothers.
* I seem to equivocate on the difference between "belief" and "feeling." I'm starting to suspect that I call things feelings if I mistrust them, and beliefs if I don't. That can't possibly be the right terminology. I need to find a better way of talking about the fact that certain types of longing do imply facts about the world while other types of longing lead to a pointillist, self-sunken, disconnected view of life. CS Lewis says this, in "The Weight of Glory":
...[W]e remain conscious of a desire which no natural happiness will satisfy. But is there any reason to suppose that reality offers any satisfaction to it? 'Nor does the being hungry prove that we have bread.' But I think it may be urged that this misses the point. A man's physical hunger does not prove that man will get any bread; he may die of starvation on a raft in the Atlantic. But surely a man's hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist. In the same way, though I do not believe (I wish I did) that my desire for Paradise proves that I shall enjoy it, I think it a pretty good indication that such a thing exists and that some men will. A man may love a woman and not win her; but it would be very odd if the phenomenon called 'falling in love' occurred in a sexless world.
* I had a really challenging, awesome discussion of the Fall. This led into a dispute over whether responsibility could ever be a part of love (I now think I was right, and it can, because promises are a part of love) and a dispute over whether the Fall changed humans intrinsically or solely changed our circumstances--whether the exile is internal, a warping of humanity, not only the lack of the Garden but the lack of the kind of self who could stand the Garden.
And here I think I may have been wrong--I think I may have been overly wedded to the language of the Fall as imposing an "inclination to sin." As my interlocutor pointed out, if that's true, it's really hard to understand how Adam and Eve managed to sin at all--as he pointed out, it's not like they held out for a long time! And there can't really be an intelligible reason for sin, I think--all sins are like Iago's sins.
But I do think it's right to say that we're not ourselves after the Fall. It isn't only our circumstances that changed. It's our ability to be distilled, to be the kind of love we as individuals might best exemplify; we aren't who we are, which is why, as Nietzsche says, we have to become what we are. I think this way of talking acknowledges the (to me) obvious damage in the self, not only in our circumstances. (I'm reminded here of the really excellent passage from Perelandra in which the Earth man in Paradise wishes he could go outside for a smoke--he wants to be free of the stress of God's regard.)
* Every college student should read Donna Tartt's novel The Secret History. Ecstasy and its epigones.
* Apparently, I can enjoy a discussion of Cixous, Gadamer, and Lacan, as long as I can make it actually a conversation about Elaine Scarry and the Weakerthans. Score!
(Oh, and hey, people who have seen the Spanish art show at the Guggenheim: What does this image make you think of? ...Yeah, me too.)
* Almost every kind of fun I like seems to involve intellectual or social humiliation. Oh well. Offer it up.
* An exception: eating food! New Haven is such a wonderful city in which to feed. If you ever have the pleasure of visiting (it is, really, one of my favorite places, and I don't care what anyone says!), make sure you get a hamburger at the Doodle, stuffed mushrooms at Anna Liffey's (drinks also good, sincerely alcoholic and inexpensive, and perfectly situated a mere block from the confessionals of St Mary's!), and, if possible, baker's soup at Mory's. Just sink your muzzle in and experience creaturely happiness.
* Walter Olson, of Overlawyered fame, is really awesome. I mean, I knew that. I just thought you guys might want to know too. ...I also got to see Cacciaguida, who emphasized the power of Mozart; Alexander of Macedon, who spewed humility in all directions; Kira, who warred hilariously with the sky; this guy, who got to see Ennio Morricone, for which I think I might kill him!!!!; this guy, who forced me to back down on some of the belief/feeling stuff above; and many other people who skated the thin ice between the beautiful and the sublime. I had a wonderful time. It was very humiliating.
He can leave you feeling stark...
The Agitator: Your daily dose of helplessness against those with political power. It's where theodicy meets libertarianism! Here, pregnant woman vs. the police. And then there's this story of boy vs. dad. I'll spoil it: unhappy endings.
Amy Welborn: Saints of Selma. What an awesome picture! PBS is forgiven for Elmo.
Hit & Run: I didn't know they did an entire issue on Hurricane Katrina. I haven't read it, but seriously, this is the kind of thing Reason does really, really well. As soon as I get on top of work, I'll be going through this with intense interest. Also, why not apply for an internship there?
Mixolydian Mode: Brushed-on developer. Ohhh, so awesome. I want a darkroom so badly right now I can practically taste it. (It doesn't taste great, I gotta say--kinda yellowy and chemical.)
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Let's do it,
Let's break the law....
Amy Welborn:
There's a lot of discussion and (justifiable) fretting out there about why people leave the Cathoilc Church. It's a discussion we've had here, and will continue to have. But I want this thread to be something different, something I don't think I've seen before.
If you're a "revert"--why? What brought you back?
I'd imagine for most it will be a combination of things. And it doesn't matter why you "left"--although that will probably come into the discussion, too. What I mean to say is that if you "left" because after your parents had you baptized they never set foot in a Catholic church again, your story is just as interesting as that of the person who consciously left, as an adult.
more! more!
Cinecon: Victor is doing his year's-best list, and it's pretty fascinating. We have very different tastes, I think; but I read a Village Voice review of The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, and it made me want to run as far in the other direction as possible, whereas Victor's review makes me really wish I'd seen it.
Daniel Mitsui: In which St. Brigid prays for awesome.
First Things: A reply to Fr Oakes's post about heresy and whatnot. I realized, reading this, that I liked the initial post for all the Therese-y-ness, and I didn't pay tons of attention to the wittering about definitions of "heresy" or whatever. So I'll just say I think you can agree with both Fr Oakes and Stephen Barr, and I think that's where I am.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
I'm not in love with the modern world
It was a torch to drive the blogwatches back to the trees...
Family Scholars: "A Republican lawmaker is sponsoring General Assembly legislation that would make Virginia the first state to prohibit anonymous sperm donations." This is one of the possible approaches I suggested in my article on "third-party reproduction" (use of surrogates, egg donors, and sperm donors), which... might be online or might not. I am not sure if it is the best thing to do, but I'm very open to the possibility, and I hope the Virginia debate clarifies the issues. It looks like this may be the first debate on third-party reproductive issues informed by the voices of children conceived using these methods. More here and here ("victory over nature" or "victory over parenthood"? or both?).
Get Religion: Ted Haggard is kind of relentlessly not interesting to me. The hustler who outed him, by contrast....
Hit & Run: At last, a news item combining two of my favorite things: markets, and wolves. (Other girls had a horse phase; I had a wolf phase. We will pause now for a chorus of, "It shows!")
Holy Whapping:
8:00 PM. The Wonderful World of Scola Presents King Solomon's Mimes. The well-known cardinal introduces this showing of the classic adventure tale of love, death, lost gold, white greasepaint and really awful experimental liturgical dance. Starring Marcel Marceau as Alan Quatermain and vice versa. ...
9:00 PM. Monk. Obsessive. Compulsive. Discalced. Detective. Today's episode: Fr. Monk Does the Lavabo and Prolongs Mass for Three Extra Hours. Starring Tony Shalhoub. ...
THURSDAY...
10:30 PM. Father Ted: CSI: Miami. Rerun.
more (via La Welborn)
Indexed: I lol'd. Via the Club for Growth.
The American Scene: In which, if I were Ross, I would make the argument that porn might have lovely theory, but the practice is inevitably colonized by Hell. It's sort of a "Communism is pretty in theory but not in practice" argument. Now me, I don't agree with either of those claims--I think the labor theory of value sucks like few theories of value have sucked before, and porn is more or less defined by its crapulence--but maybe we can at least agree that the pornography industry is not actually made up of you and your feminist friends taking low-res photos in your basement. There is actually a thing out there called "the pornography industry" and it's a lot worse than Wal-Mart. And hey, maybe the nature of sex might even explain why....
Monday, January 29, 2007
Saturday, January 27, 2007
And let your arrow go
Straight to my lover's heart...
Godstime: New blog focusing on youth ministries. From JB, old-time friend of this blog. Very awesome. Via Amy Welborn.
And a review of Finder: Sin-Eater, a really excellent comic. Via Journalista.
Monday, January 22, 2007
...What has always struck readers of the Continental Rationalists from Descartes to Kant is how all these Rationalists divide reason from desire (usually called by them, tellingly, the passions, meaning feelings that overwhelm us rather than longings that express our inmost nature). De Lubac, on the contrary, sees reason and desire as parts of the same whole, subsumed under the wider image of "heart," encompassing them both. And because desire is inherently outward in its aim, thereby testifying to a deficiency in the self, the same holds true of reason.
more
It may come as a surprise to some, but today--Monday, January 22--is a day of penance according to the particular law of the Latin rite in the United States.
This is why.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Time and space--
Disputed Mutability: What does a Christian owe the lover to whom he's made a vow? --powerful discussion.
And this is just one of those American things, like the vulture in As I Lay Dying--just because it shuffles its feet all over my country doesn't mean I have to agree with it. "Of course, Jack does not exhibit all of Christ's traits. He embraces the efficacy of violence, and how horrific means can be justified by a noble end." Oh, you think? --No, I'm seriously disturbed by this article, and would very much appreciate any links replying to it.
Also, I watched Breaker Morant last night. It was amazing. If anyone wants to argue that it isn't an inherently anti-war movie, please email me, because I get the impression that anti-pacifists are really into it, and I don't know why.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
and from your abysses the sound of music.
Your shadows lie on my heart like roses
and your nights are like strong wine.
--Gertrude von le Fort
via Claw of the Conciliator
Monday, January 15, 2007
...And yes, I know what it's about, they're not exactly being subtle. As Quentin Crisp and Jesus might say, no one escapes my love.
It's also (and I don't think this is unrelated) a deeply conservative show, at least in the first season. It's bourgeois without being complacent. And it manages (again, more in the first season) to evoke empathy for people on both sides of real, painful conflicts. Even Andrew the sociopath and even Susan the child-woman (yeah, not a fan of hers) have a deep poignance and resonance. It's a ferociously pro-motherhood and pro-marriage show, it's moralizing in that noir way, and it takes religion (especially Catholicism, she noted with a fierce partisan nod!) very seriously. It's also, and I'm not sure why it took me until now to mention this, totally hilarious. I would recommend at least the first season to everybody.
In the second season, some of the pacing is off. And the show decreases both its conservatism and its empathy. Sometimes the lessened conservatism really works--I think it's part of what was going on in the tragically underutilized Bree-and-Justin sub-sub-subplot. And sometimes the lessened empathy works too--Sister Mary Hotpants was probably my favorite subplot of the entire second season, and she's really just a villain. (ZOMG, the church catfight is better than chocolate!!!) She doesn't have an inner life. But that's okay because she's hilarious and provokes a lot of fun, interesting stuff from the main characters. ...But, and maybe I won't be able to back this up if people challenge me on it, I felt like the first season was less willing to encourage viewers to root for the Wisteria Lane ladies against women in equally complex and vulnerable situations. The Solises'-birthmom storyline was the one where I really felt that most strongly: The birth mother is in a morally dubious, complicit, vulnerable position, not unlike Gaby Solis, so why is she a class-based caricature? Ugh.
Nonetheless. For the most part, this show is funny, sharp, and--I hate that this is so rare--actually in favor of, you know, women. And so I am in favor of it.
She started as a fashion photographer and Surrealist. But this post is about her war photography. She photographed London in the Blitz, and then went into Europe with the US Army (on assignment for Vogue, if memory serves). She was one of the first Americans to see the death camps.
Her WWII photographs basically do everything right. They're intensely tied to their historical moment. The people and things they depict are intensely themselves. But they're also freighted with emotional and existential weight--her photos are about us, now, as well as being about them, then. I have a xerox of one of her pictures on my wall: the silhouette of a beautiful opera singer, singing in the bombed-out ruins of (I think) the Dresden opera house. It's a picture of Germany in World War II; it's also a picture of the Fall. It's an amazing composition, all blackness and angles and off-centered shaken, broken beauty--but the artistry doesn't call attention to itself. The artistry doesn't leach out the subject matter and make it suddenly a photo all about Lee Miller. (I feel like, and maybe this is a cliched opinion I should reconsider, Robert Mapplethorpe's photos tend to vampirize their subject matter and become photos all about Mapplethorpe--diminishing the photos' possibilities rather than deepening them.) Miller's astonishing grasp of (especially) framing and angular lines gives her photos poignance. You're lifted out of them first by their often horrifying subject matter; then by her brilliance; but she always, always returns you, lets you go back into the photo with a deeper sense of sympathy and a sense of deeper layers of meaning in the picture and the experience it depicts.
That deepening of sympathy happens even when maybe Miller didn't want it to. She has one excruciating photo of a dead blonde teenager--the daughter of a prominent SS official, I think. (My copy of The Lives of Lee Miller is loaned out at the moment.) The girl and her family all killed themselves in advance of the Allies' troops. Miller's caption: "This is a good German. She is dead."
Yeah. And yet--it's completely impossible to look at that sprawled, humiliated, film-star perfect body, and stop at the caption's wry cruelty. Miller shot the girl with the dignity and instinctively empathetic quality of the subjects of portraits. The photo is complicated and it hurts, where the caption is meant to duck away from the hurt.
I think Miller's Surrealist background really helped her war pictures. Partly, it's just that Surrealism is emotionalist, all breathy and shuddery and blood pulsing beneath tender skin. You're immediately put on terrain drawn from dreams, not documentaries.
But also, the Surrealists had a talent for making things look completely themselves and yet also mysterious, pregnant with some unseen and non-obvious meaning. Magritte's textures are totally realistic. When he paints fur, it looks like it would feel like fur. There's a thisness in Surrealism, like that Chesterton quote:
That strangeness of things, which is the light in all poetry, and indeed in all art, is really connected with their otherness; or what is called their objectivity. ...According to Aquinas, the object becomes a part of the mind; nay, according to Aquinas, the mind actually becomes the object. But, as one commentator acutely puts it, it only becomes the object and does not create the object. In other words, the object is an object; it can and does exist outside the mind, or in the absence of the mind. And therefore it enlarges the mind of which it becomes a part. The mind conquers a new province like an emperor; but only because the mind has answered the bell like a servant. ...For this feeding upon fact is itself; as an organ it has an object which is objective; this eating of the strange strong meat of reality.
Surrealism isn't anti-realism--it's maybe even the opposite of anti-realism. It's a genre in which things are always both themselves and shadows of something bigger.
I'm struck by the fact that a Surrealist was one of the greatest depictors of a conflict about, in large part, what it is to be human, who is human, and what it means that we can do almost anything to a living human. I don't have anything really to say there. I just think it's striking.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
1. This book is a lot better than it has to be. With any book about actual horrors, the subject matter alone will command attention. This Way for the Gas is spare and almost affectless, which I guess you'd expect, but an individual sensibility and talent comes through very strongly.
2. There's a lot of portrayal of complicity. Specifically, the narrator (whose name and circumstances link him with the author, Tadeusz Borowski) often gets through the horror of Auschwitz by laughing at others worse off than himself. It's ferocious and effective, never hammered on too hard, never overdone, just an unmerciful picture of how one person changed. ...There's also a lot of emphasis on how life worked in the death camps: the ways people found to create some kind of structure or community in a place designed to prove that humans can be made completely helpless, and anything at all could be done to them.
3. For whatever reason, I kept contrasting the portrayal of nature in these stories with Shusaku Endo's Silence, about a missionary in Japan during a period of intense persecution. In Silence, the narrative is really tightly internal, tied to the missionary's thoughts and confusions, but now and then it will swoop outward and focus intensely on a tree or rain or earth, sort of stare at that for a little while and then sink back into the missionary's skull. This Way for the Gas weaves description into the narrative. I'm not sure if that's a Japanese vs. Western difference. The effect on me, as a reader, was that Silence made me feel more trapped, and made nature and weather seem more "outside," more "other," wearying and deadly but also somehow kept apart from the cruelty of men. This Way for the Gas made me feel as if nature itself was being corrupted, enlisted to hurt humans.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
You're into the blogwatch...
Awesome article on Hitchcock's music. Via A&L Daily.
"Surviving (and thriving) on $12,000 a year." Via Ratty. I agree with her that the last section is the most striking.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
First of all, I stuffed these cute little Mexican sweet peppers with Gruyere. Basically, I just snipped off both ends of a lot of peppers, stuffed 'em with wodges of Gruyere, rubbed olive oil on the peppers, and roasted them in a 375 oven for a while--I forget how long--stirring once. This was delicious, but I had expected the peppers to be kickier. Instead they were sweet and even kind of bland. Jalapeno matchsticks (stuffed into the peppers with the Gruyere) would have been a big help... but jalapenos are never on sale.
And then there were two variations on lazy man's macaroni and cheese: one with asadero (yum--a little tart) and one with Wensleydale (amazing!--total melty comfort food).
Later in the week, there should be a report on snails. Why were snails on sale? ...Oh, and real posting very soon, people. For now you just get links and cheese.
Oscar Wilde, poet, playwright, gay icon and deathbed convert to Catholicism, has been paid a rare tribute by the Vatican. His aphorisms are quoted in a collection of maxims and witticisms for Christians that has been published by one of the Pope's closest aides. ...
Father Sapienza said that he wanted to "stimulate a reawakening in certain Catholic circles". Christianity was intended to be a radical cure, not a humdrum remedy for the common cold: "Our role is to be a thorn in the flesh, to move people's consciences and to tackle what today is the No 1 enemy of religion--indifference."
more
Family Scholars: "Should we two mommies tell our child who our sperm donor was?"
ShoeBlogs: "With these upon your feets the Donatists and the Pelagians would not stand the chance."
The Rat: A drink for the Withnail & I drinking game!
Saturday, January 06, 2007
The scent of flowers in the evening
Is still tolling the bell
--Basho
Via Claw of the Conciliator