It’s His Birthday Today

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I love you, Dad.

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The Books: The Young Rebecca: Writings of Rebecca West 1911-17; “The Gospel According to Mrs. Humphrey Ward”

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On the essays shelf (yes, there are still more books to excerpt in my vast library. I can’t seem to stop this excerpts-from-my-library project. I started it in 2006!)

NEXT BOOK: The Young Rebecca: Writings of Rebecca West, 1911-17

Where to even begin? Rebecca West did everything. Novels, essays, non-fiction books, reportage. She was a journalist. She was one of the “witnesses” in Warren Beatty’s Reds. Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, her book detailing a couple of trips she took through the former Yugoslavia in 1938, 1939, is one of the masterpieces of the 20th century. It’s 1,200 pages long. But it flies. Like Orwell, she was one of the prophets of what the 20th century would wrought, especially when it came to Ideology, the parade of “Ism-s”, harmful and good. She saw it early, she saw it clearly. She was a Socialist, a feminist, a suffragist, but also clear-minded enough to perceive the flaws in the major ideologies, to call things OUT. She was never a Party-Line kind of person. In Black Lamb, pro-Serb though it is, she predicts the rise of someone like Milosevic. Nobody was really thinking that way back then (although Serbs, of course, were.) She saw deeper and further. Her response was personal, idiosyncratic.

In some respects, she was like George Eliot, seated on a cloud, looking down from that lofty position on human beings, categorizing them, diagnosing them. Sometimes she is wildly wrong, but always in an entertaining way. (She is one of the most entertaining of writers. Nothing dry or intellectual about her.) Then there are other times when she is practically a modern-memoirist, talking about what she saw, what she ate, the people she met … in her travels through Yugoslavia. It’s all in there. I’ve written a lot about her: she’s somewhat difficult to get a handle on (as all great thinkers are).

She grew up in a somewhat unmonitored state, rare for little girls at the time. Her parents were thoughtful intellectual artistic types and they gave their daughters almost total freedom. She was born into the dying gasps of the Victorian era, and, like many of her generation, saw the flaws in that mindset and started fighting against it. She did not worship sacred cows just because someone told her they were sacred (the following article, written when she was just 18, shows that, and shows her fearlessness in “taking on” something deemed to be sacred and untouchable). Her intellectual freedom seems to have emerged partly because her education was so casual. She was not fully “indoctrinated.” She had to leave school at the age of 14 because she got tuberculosis. She recovered, but there was no money after that to send her back to school. She spent her time reading widely, reading above and beyond her years, and getting involved in politics, local and national. Unlike other young girls of that time, she was not molded and shaped in a strict boarding school/convent atmosphere. It was a time of violent upheaval along class and gender lines. Women started agitating for the vote. The process was violent, involving police brutality, hunger strikes, forcible feeding while in prison, and vicious commentary from reactionaries who feared for the state of the world if the Little Ladies got the vote. Then, as now, there were different factions in this fight, and West – as always – was too clear a thinker to submit totally to any Party Line. She is often mistrusted because of that. To the Pacifist Left, she was a traitor, due to her clear perception that war was often extremely necessary (with folks like Hitler running around), and although she was a staunch Socialist she also wrote eloquently about the flaws in that ideology. She was referred to once as a “Shaw in petticoats,” and Shaw himself remarked: “Rebecca can handle a pen as brilliantly as ever I could, and much more savagely.”

The word that comes to mind for her is “daring.” Even now, across a century, her writing is breathtakingly bold. One example: from the get-go, she saw the fight for the rights of women as going hand in hand with Socialism. Meaning: Industrialization had wreaked havoc among the lower-classes in England, men and women, and that women getting the vote was certainly important, but it was part and parcel of a fight to create a more equal society, where the poor didn’t stay poor, and the rich didn’t get richer … where mobility was possible. This was a message many feminists at the time did not want to hear. They were all about the vote. The lead feminists were pragmatists, and courageous women, all of whom emerged from the middle and upper-classes. The modern women’s movement in the 1970s was a similar movement, and it came under fire (then and now) as being a movement from the pampered class of middle-class white women. It ignored people of color, and it ignored working-class women, many of whom had no use for feminism (at least as it was presented by the mainstream leaders of the movement.) There are books written about all of this, so I won’t go into it further. Rebecca West saw that discrepancy in the movement around her, and while “anti-feminism” and “sex prejudice” (in the lingo of the day) enraged her (and also struck her as rather silly – and look out when West finds something silly: that is when she is her most savage and hilarious) … she was also baffled and upset that the real economic issues of the day were being ignored. She referred to middle-class and upper-class women as “parasites.” Way to make friends, Rebecca! The patriarchal system had created generations of useless parasite women, who never had to work a day in their lives, who were pampered and cosseted and taken care of, and who could never ever understand why poor women were the way they were. The blinders of privilege. A parasite woman did not even know that she was a parasite, because the society as it was set up was designed to keep her dumb, well-fed, and content. This was a message that many in the suffragist movement did not want to hear. Self-reflection has never been a quality revered in strong ideologies. Rebecca West also called out (controversially) the sex-phobic strain that ran in feminism, the prudishness, the rigid school-marm vibe. Now: there were definitely issues to address: birth control, for one. Having open conversations about STDs, and trying to lessen the shame around such things, was definitely a worthwhile goal. But the focus on birth control, at times, morphed into a “All sex is bad, avoid it at all costs” kind of chastity type thing – which West thought was ridiculous and unrealistic. There was also an anti-male thing that happens … and it happens now as well … and West, who had many good male friends, and who enjoyed the company of men, called that out as well. Let’s not submit to a phantasmagorical view of the world and the war between the sexes. Men are not evil, women are not Good – and the thought that all women were Victims was just more evidence of the Victorian Era in operation. (We see some of that today, with – just one example – the “hysterical” – in the true sense of the word – outcry against getting cat-called by construction crews on the street. For real? Toughen up, ladies. Shout something rude back. Flip them off and strut by, with your head held high. Don’t choose to be a victim when there are REAL victims in this world. Stop asking for the world to protect your every footstep through your life. That’s a middle-class privileged Victorian attitude right there. But calling that out can rain down hellfire on your head from those who should be on “your side”. Meghan Daum’s recent piece is awesome and I am glad she said it. It needed to be said.) Working-class women did not respond to such Victorian attitudes (they didn’t then and they don’t now). Rebecca West was not a prude. She liked sex, she understood its power. She also understood, in a way that was uncannily prophetic, that that kind of sex-phobia should never be mainstreamed – it could not sustain itself, it was not how the majority of most people lived. It would be harmful to the cause of woman. (Camille Paglia was sidelined by mainstream voices because of a similar calling-out against the likes of Andrea Dworkin and Catherine McKinnon.)

It was a tempestuous rambunctious time, with imprisonment, and violent protests, and policemen throwing women down the stairs, causing grave injuries. This is not an either/or situation. It was a complex time. People fought it out in the op-ed columns of newspapers, and Rebecca West was one of the most vigorous voices out there.

Rebecca West started getting published when she was a teenager. She began writing for a feminist journal called The Freewoman, and her columns show the wide diversity of her interests. There are many book reviews, there are reports on strikes and protests, laws being passed, the ramifications thereof … West wrote quickly, gorgeously, and efficiently.

The Young Rebecca: Writings of Rebecca West, 1911-17, edited by Jane Marcus, is a compilation of articles written by Rebecca West in various outlets dating from 1911 to 1917. We owe Jane Marcus a great debt for rescuing this material from dusty archives that were not online. It’s a tremendous reading experience! You wonder how West ever slept, let alone had time to have a crazy affair with H.G. Wells, with a child resulting. The child was born in 1914, and 3 days after the birth, there’s another column from West. She never stopped. Unlike the “parasite women” she never got sick of criticizing, West had to work for a living. She was a single mother with no other means of financial support. So she wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

My one criticism of this volume is the lack of explanatory footnotes. Many of the names are now lost in the tides of history. Some context would have been nice. When I first read the volume, I did a lot of Googling. She would read a report of some speech made in the House of Commons, and then write an opinion piece on it … and none of this is explained by the editor. You kind of just have to go with it. While it is excellent to have access to these essays, it would have been extremely helpful to have just a brief paragraph of context before each one.

For example, the following essay, published in the Freewoman in 1912. Mrs. Humphrey Ward was a novelist of the Victorian era. A sacred cow if ever there was one. She wrote books with morals, Christian morals, and was an ardent anti-feminist. (The prototype of the “parasite woman” protecting her parasite status.) Her books were hugely popular at the time (although who reads them now?), and she was emblematic of the Morals of the Age. Rebecca West went after her, and went after her hard. (She references her constantly in her writing. She can’t stop taking pot-shots.) The following article caused an uproar. The offices of The Freewoman were bombarded with what would be called “hate-mail” now, so intense that Rebecca West was forced to address it in a following article. The sentence that people seemed most offended by was the one about the “Jolly public-house”. It figures. Because that sentence is classic West. What she is saying is: By putting Woman on a pedestal, by forcing her to represent an Ideal of some kind, we are killing her soul, we are condemning her to damnation. Far better to be the proprietor of a well-known bar, far better to work for your living, than sit around being a good beautiful Christian example.

Well. You can see why people said “Ouch” to that: it was a pretty hard pinch.

Rebecca West wrote this at the age of 18. It’s incredible because she emerged fully-formed as a writer. This voice is recognizably the voice of Black Lamb and Grey Falcon. West is funny, and never more funny than when she is trying to take something DOWN. She points out the absurdity in ways that feel water-tight. It leaves no room for opponents. Opponents just bluster around saying, “Hey now, little missy, hold on a second …!” And West is already onto the next thing. Mission accomplished.

I’ll be doing a bunch of excerpts from this vigorous entertaining volume. I highly recommend it.

Excerpt from The Young Rebecca: Writings of Rebecca West, 1911-17: “The Gospel According to Mrs. Humphrey Ward”, by Rebecca West

It may strike one in reading Daphne that it shows a strange habit of mind to consider whisky and shop-girls as the only alternative to a happy married life. But Mrs. Ward has a poor opinion of men, and a worse one of women, whom, with Zarathustra, she considers “still cats and birds: or, at the best, cows”. Of course, Mrs. Ward is largely in agreement with Nietzsche – not only in this, but in her firm belief in the Superman, whom she considers to be realised in the aristocratic classes of this country, her contempt for democratic art and her voluble prejudice against socialism. But Nietzsche’s Superman is to have quite a good time, exulting in his eternal Bank Holiday, with the wide world on Hampstead Heath. But Mrs. Ward’s characters, judging from her ideal figure, Catherine Leyburn, would at their highest fail to enjoy the spiritual exhilaration of a meeting of the Poor Law Guardians.

Catherine Leyburn is revealed to us in her youth and in her late middle-age in the pages of Robert Elsmere and The Case of Richard Meynell. The distinguishing characteristic which differentiates her from, for instance, Isabel, in The New Machiavelli, is her physical abandonment. On every page her face works with emotion and is illuminated by a burning flush; once she has slowly succumbed to the turgid wooing of Robert Elsmere, she drenches him with tears and kisses. A spiritual upheaval is a picnic to her. Whensoever she approaches a deathbed, one has an uneasy suspicion that she is glad to “be in at the death.” After many years of widowhood, whiled away by the perusal of the lives of bishops, she dies as easy as she has lived. What a life! Never once had she earned the bread she ate. She had spent her life in thinking beautiful thoughts, in being a benign and beautiful influence … Never will Woman be saved until she realises that it is a far, far better thing to keep a jolly public-house really well than to produce a cathedral full of beautiful thoughts. “Here they talk of nothing else than love – its beauty, its holiness, its spirituality, its Devil knows what! … They think they have achieved the perfection of love because they have no bodies! – sheer imaginative debauchery!” It was of Hell that that was said. When people plead that “Woman should stand aside from the ugly mêlée” of things as they are, and “hold high the banner of the Ideal,” which is the usual way of alluding to Catherine’s life of loaferdom, they are instructing her in her damnation.

Mrs. Ward’s gospel is an easy one. If she was Mrs. Mary A. Ward, of Port Matilda, Pa., USA, it would be expressed something like this: “Girls! Make life a joy-ride! But don’t talk back to the police!” This easy gospel will give its disciples the heritage one may see in the faces of so many “sheltered women”: a smooth brow, that has never known the sweat of labour; the lax mouth, flaccid for want of discipline; eyes that blink because they have never seen anything worth looking at; the fat body of the unexercised waster. And within, the petulance of those who practice idealism on the easiest methods: a pastime that develops the conceit of the artist, with none of the wisdom and chastening of art.

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“Oh, well, men are climbing to the moon but they don’t seem interested in the beating human heart.” – Marilyn Monroe

Kim Morgan has posted the text of an extraordinary letter Marilyn Monroe wrote to her psychiatrist, Dr. Greenson, while she was locked up in a psychiatric ward. 1961. Post Misfits. It’s heartfelt, witty, intelligent. The poet John Ashbery makes an appearance at the end. Amazing.

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May 2015 Viewing Diary

The X-Files, Season 2 Episode 20 “Humbug” (1995; d. Kim Manners). Mulder and Scully investigate murders among circus-folk. Laugh-out-loud funny, especially Mulder in the fun-house, sliding out of the wall, gun drawn.

The X-Files, Season 2 Episode 22 “The Calusari” (1995; d. Michael Vejar).
In the “creepy kid” tradition of cinema, mixed with the mysterious terrifying rituals of The Roma, transplanted to Virginia. Because of course.

The X-Files, Season 2 Episode 22 “F. Emasculata” (1995; d. Rob Bowman).
Extremely disgusting plot involving exploding pustules. Stop it.

The X-Files, Season 2 Episode 23 “Soft Light” (1995; d. James A. Contner).
The first X-Files episode to be written by Vince Gilligan! Wonderful performance from Tony Shalhoub.

The X-Files, Season 2 Episode 24 “Our Town” (1995; d. Rob Bowman).
Cannibalism focused on a chicken processing plant. Very gross. Great locations (in general, the show has superb locations. There are, of course, some “sets” but for the most part they are out and about in the world, giving the illusion of a road-show, when, of course, it’s all filmed in and around Vancouver. Shades of Supernatural, which pulls off a similar feat. Also similar to Supernatural: honestly, I don’t care about the plot. The mythology is interesting. But what is compelling to me is 1. The cinematography/look-feel of the show and 2. The relationships between the two characters which gives new meaning to the term “slow burn.” These people have the patience of Job. But I love that dynamic.

The X-Files, Season 2 Episode 25 “ Anasazi” (1995; d. R.W. Goodwin).
Season finale of Season 2. I watched this one in a batch of episodes with my partner-in-crime Keith. Even with my new gig at the Times, we are trying to make time for more binge-watching, only this time on the weekends. It’s been so fun, since he is a Super Fan. It’s like watching the episodes with my own personal DVD commentary or Guide Book. (Not that he talks through the episode. No, he gets wrapped up in it. But that if I have a question, we can Pause and discuss ad nauseum.) This episode was developed by creator Chris Carter and David Duchovny, who got a Story Credit on this one. Extremely exciting. Some sort of aircraft is found buried in Anasazi ruins (and Keith informed me that all of the rocks in said canyon were painted red – since I had asked: “Where the hell did they film this?”) Things begin to dovetail in a personal way, involving Mulder’s dad, the vile Smoking Man, and the various summer homes of the Mulder family scattered about New England. Then there’s a box-car filled with dead aliens. Plus Navahos. And helicopters.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 1 “The Blessing Way” (1995; d. R.W. Goodwin).
Shit’s getting personal now. Scully finds an implant in her neck. These plot-points will blossom, horribly, seasons later. Mulder is near death and floats in and out of hallucinations in a Navaho sweat-lodge with a medicine doctor. He floats through the universe, etc. It’s profound and emotional. There’s now a “Syndicate,” holed up on 46th Street in NYC, running the show, and keeping the Smoking Man on his toes. Scully deals with the ramifications of her disappearance. I love Gillian Anderson’s acting. This is a woman, a grown woman, not a girl. And Anderson was still in her 20s, but there’s something old-school about her. Not for her the extended adolescence of many young women. She is an adult.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 2 “Paper Clip” (1995; d. R.W. Goodwin).
Amazing! Thrilling!

Bravetown. (2015; d. Daniel Duran).
I really enjoyed this movie. Reviewed it for The Dissolve.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 3 “D.P.O.” (1995; d. Kim Manners).
I’ve had a rough couple of months. As any binge-watcher will understand, continuing on with the “binge”, in times of stress, is often a life-line. It’s comforting, it’s an escape. It’s strangely stable in an unstable world. I love art as escape. There’s been enough “real life” in March and April to fill up my quota. I’ve been very sick. Things get real simple when you’re sick. You are forced to pare down. “D.P.O. is super-fun because it features Jack Black and Giovanni Ribisi, first of all. At first they seem to be in cahoots, but slowly, Jack Black’s character reveals that he has a moral compass, he knows when to put on the brakes. I love him so much. Giovanni Ribisi’s character basically BECOMES lightning.

L’Avventura (1960; d. Michelangelo Antonioni).
A creepy favorite. These people are all so detached and gorgeous. Connection is not really possible. Monica Vitti is amazing, and her hair is even more so. I first saw L’Avventura in high school and felt dismay that I could never get my hair to look that thick and that casually glamorous.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 4 “Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose” (1995; d. David Nutter).
It’s fun to see all the Supernatural names, David Nutter and Kim Manners and Steven Williams and John Shiban and all the rest. “Clyde Bruckman” has now become a favorite, along with “Humbug”. Peter Boyle stars in an extremely touching performance. I miss Peter Boyle. And any episode that references Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper are Okay by me. There’s also an auto-erotic asphyxiation joke, which is also Good News in my book. A couple of great scenes between Gillian Anderson and Peter Boyle. Darin Morgan won an Emmy for the script of this episode, and Peter Boyle won the Emmy for Outstanding Guest Actor. Well-deserved.

Under the Skin of the City (2001; d. Rakhshan Bani-E’temad).
I can’t believe I have never seen this film before. It’s incredible. Directed by Iran’s most famous female film director, she who takes on controversial issues, class and gender issues, politics – all of which swirl in the mix of Under the Skin of the City. Portrait of a family in flux, under a lot of stress. Fantastic drama. Gritty. Realistic.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 5 “The List” (1995; d. David Nutter).
Featuring the wonderful character actor J.T. Walsh (we went to the same university! He came back to talk to us hopeful acting students and basically said, “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” He also said he wished he didn’t have to work for money, and could do more Shakespeare. He seemed like a very nice, if sad, man. He made an impression.) “The List” features many nasty scenes with maggots. Too many bugs, in general, on X-Files.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 6 “2Shy” (1995; d. David Nutter).
The frightening specter of “meeting someone from the Internet” looms in “2Shy” as these sad pudgy single women bite the dust when they try to date. Timothy Carhart was great.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 7 “The Walk” (1995; d. Rob Bowman).
Written by John Shiban! Shiban said he was inspired by the 1950 film The Men (starring Marlon Brando – it was his film debut, Jack Webb, Teresa Wright), which shows the struggles of war vets on returning home to civilian life. Taking place mostly in a VA hospital, it involves “astral projection,” because why not.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 8 “Oubliette” (1995; d. Kim Manners).
Like Supernatural, The X-Files has an extremely strong Look. Kim Manners did not create the series, and The X-Files was always dark and glamorous, but Manners helped solidify (and elevate) that style. There are some closeups in his episodes that rival Rembrandt. Velvet-black shadows, with half of Gillian Anderson’s face visible, the light picking out the blue of her eyes, making them blaze. He’s a master, and his style is like a fingerprint. The X-Files is elegant and somber, dark and grim (but it is flexible enough to be slapstick as well, something I really appreciate.) The episode involves a little girl kidnapped in a creepy man’s basement.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 9 “Nisei” (1995; d. R.W. Goodwin).
There’s a “mystery train”, all right, carrying Japanese scientists doing secret experiments on alien bodies. There are some amazing sequences here. Mulder jumping onto a moving train. It’s all quite elaborate. Part 1.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 10 “731” (1995; d. Rob Bowman).
Part 2, continued from “Nisei.” Another mythology episode. Love X’s role here, and love Steven Williams.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 11 “Revelations” (1995; d. David Nutter).
“Revelations” was fascinating, psychologically. Scully is drawn back into her Catholic faith. Mulder, who always chides her for not having an open mind about his various supernatural theories, suddenly becomes skeptical of the hocus-pocus of faith, highlighting a hypocrisy in him that hadn’t been there before. It’s like their roles reversed. He is always saying to her, “Why can’t you at least consider the possibility …” Here, it is HE who is unable to do that. Great relationship episode.

The X-Files, Season 3 Episode 12 “War of the Coprophages” (1996; d. Kim Manners).
Now. Cockroach infestation notwithstanding (HORRIFYING), this episode is really funny, really subtle, with great behavior. Slapstick screwball. Mulder on a case, calling Scully repeatedly, who is seen sitting at home, eating ice cream, reading a book. “Who died now?” she deadpans into the phone. Mulder befriends an entomologist named Bambi. And Scully cannot eye-roll hard enough. “Bambi? Her name is Bambi?” Favorite moment: Scully arrives to help out on the scene, finding chaos and looting in a local store. She stands by the cash register, looking at the carnage, and says into the phone to Mulder, “Mulder, this town is insane.” One of my favorite episodes so far.

Supernatural, Season 10 Episode 21 “Dark Dynasty” (2015; d. Robert Singer).
Devastating. But also frustrating (Castiel’s inability to referee. Nope. This is the “hapless adorable goofball Castiel” that his fan-base seems to adore and I find unconvincing and undramatic.) Small nitpick aside, the episode was harrowing and upsetting and I’m still in denial. For me, the season really ended here. Everything stopped.

The X-Files, Season 2, Episode 7, “3” (1994; d. David Nutter)
While Scully was abducted and MIA, Mulder tries to take his mind off things by working a vampire case and fucking a vampire. Good for him. I had somehow missed this one the first time through so looped back to catch it.

A Bronx Tale (1993; d. Robert De Niro)
It’s been A Bronx Tale couple of months.
1. It played at Ebertfest and Chazz Palminteri was in attendance.
2. Matt Seitz and I (with his girlfriend and his two kids) trucked out to Queens to see Chazz Palminteri perform A Bronx Tale live. It was an unforgettable experience and made me want to see the movie AGAIN, even though I had just seen it. It’s amazing how little De Niro had to change for the film. The entire script is up there on the screen. De Niro was smart enough to know he didn’t need to touch it too much, or “open it up” or anything like that.

Starred Up (2013; d. David Mackenzie).
I had somehow missed this on its first release. It was the first moment when people were like, “Jack O’Connell. Now … who is that?” He’s since gone on to star in ’71 as well as Angelina Jolie’s film Unbroken. I’m not sure he has the star-power of, say, a Russell Crowe, but he gives a fine and very upsetting performance in Starred Up, as a kid tossed into a maximum-security prison, even though he is still a teenager. He has been “starred up”, meaning the prisons for juveniles can no longer deal with him. You can see why. He is fearless and extremely violent. His father, played by Ben Mendelsohn (extraordinary performance) is also in prison and has been so for years. He’s a Top Dog in prison. There is no father-son bonding, because the two really have no relationship. Meanwhile, there’s a controversial “therapy group” designed by a psychologist who believes he has found some ways to combat violent tendencies. (The script, by Jonathan Asser, is based on his own work in that area.) Starred Up is not a touchy-feely film. It is brutal and ruthless. The pain these men feel (most of them having been abused themselves as kids) is irrelevant, mainly because their pain has been turned so completely into rage and violence. It’s a cycle. There is no “lesson” here, no “and they all hugged and learned something.” Jack O’Connell is unforgettable, a pit bull of activity and bravado. You watch some of the scenes unfold and you think, “Someone MUST be getting hurt in that melee, right?” The film plays without subtitles since it takes place in England, but it is a challenge to understand what everyone is saying, the accents and lingo are so thick and impenetrable. But the story is clear nonetheless. Highly recommend it.

The Film Critic (2013; d. Hernán Guerschuny).
Hernán Guerschuny is a famous Argentinian film critic, and the Film Critic is his directorial debut (he also wrote the script). It’s a funny spoof, actually, of the film critic who hates all films … but it’s also pretty thin. Kind of a one-trick pony. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 13, “Syzygy” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
Apparently some fans did not like how this episode portrayed Mulder and Scully in a negative light. Oh, silly silly fans. The negative portrayal was in service to the plot. And it made for major humor. Teenage girls somehow tap into a planetary alignment that makes everyone misbehave and snipe and get irritable. The second Mulder and Scully enter the town they start to bicker – not their vibe at all – which should be their first clue that something supernatural is going on. (Similar to the first “Trickster” episode in Supernatural.) Ryan Reynolds has a small part in the teaser opening! I loved Mulder and Scully bickering, and arguing. And Mulder getting roped into a sexual situation, which Scully busts him on. The look on her face. Supremely entertaining.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 14, “Grotesque” (1996; d. Kim Manners)
Gargoyles come to life. Mulder starting to lose it. Their bond is now unbreakable, so when they start to doubt one another, it’s extremely painful. This is one of the positive byproducts of the incredibly “slow burn.” You become invested in them as a team. You want it to last forever. You ache for them to just fucking KISS already. There’s a lot of nuance in the characters, mainly because of the talent of Duchovny and Anderson. Scully could easily be a persnickety nag, the “wet blanket” usually given to females. But Anderson doesn’t play it that way. She keeps her cool, she’s rational, she backs up her assertions with science, she needs to – that’s her job. It’s a difficult role, in that way, because it could have been humorlessly one-note. It’s not at all.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 15, “Piper Maru” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
Black oil, welcome to the world. A mythology episode, with Scully getting more and more agitated about the stalled investigation into her sister’s murder.

Animals (2015; d. Collin Schiffli)
Drug addicts living in Chicago. There is a lot that is good in Animals. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 16, “Apocrypha” (1996; d. Kim Manners)
Alex Krycek is a wonderful villain, and Nicholas Lea does an excellent job in the role. More mythology, including a wonderful sequence in an “abandoned” missile silo in North Dakota.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 17, “Pusher” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
The Russian roulette scene was extraordinary.

The Fast and the Furious (2001; d. Rob Cohen)
It’s difficult to express my love for these movies. They’re another grand escape and I’ll be re-watching all of them. It’s completely egalitarian in a really sneaky way (diverse cast, women are human beings and equal players – it doesn’t have a “Boys do the Important Stuff, Girls Wait on the Sidelines” vibe, as you may expect). Paul Walker is wonderful, and the whole “white boy has to prove himself to those who are not white” thing is here, just put out there at the get-go, and treated with humor and lots of banter. It’s so refreshing. He’s the outsider. The racing scenes are exhilarating, without that frenzy-of-quick-cuts thing meant to “put you in the action” but which is actually a lazy choice, designed to hide the fact that the sequence has no visual coherence. In Fast and the Furious you always know where you are in time and space. So it’s great for gearheads, but I love especially the community created, the “second family” thing, the family you choose.

Supernatural, Season 10, Episode 22, “The Prisoner” (2015; d. Thomas Wright)
Not crazy about The Stynes. They’re all too good-looking and generic. They’re escapees from the failed Bloodlines crossover series. I can’t tell them apart. This is not Supernatural‘s style and it’s disheartening to see them cave. Why do they all have to look alike? Clean-cut Abercrombie & Fitch models? No reason except lack of imagination.

Close-Up (1990; d. Abbas Kiarostami)
I think it’s a masterpiece. If you haven’t seen it, all I can say is: Do so. And make sure to read some essays on it (but do so afterwards). Kiarostami is interested in reality and artifice, and has no compunction about saying something is true when it is not, or when it is created. To him, the created “thing” takes on a life of its own. This is true in all of his films – I mean, Certified Copy is all about that (Incredible film): if what you are looking at is a perfect copy of the real thing (a forgery of the Mona Lisa, for example), will you know the difference? Is there a difference? Close-Up is unbelievable. I saw it in the theatres on its first release. I was living in Philadelphia at the time. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. It still is.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 18, “Teso dos Bichos” (1996; d. Kim Manners)
Killer cats on the loose! Look out! So stupid!

Two Lovers (2008; d. James Gray)
I have no idea why I never saw this film before. I love everyone involved. Joaquin Phoenix is wonderful, and so is Gwyneth Paltrow as his troubled party-girl neighbor. Elias Koteas (one of my favorite character actors) plays the high-powered married lawyer, carrying on a relationship with Gwyneth Paltrow’s character. Joaquin Phoenix’s character is bipolar, prone to suicide attempts. He lives in Brighton Beach (I think? One of those primarily Jewish New York neighborhoods) with his parents (Isabella Rossellini and Moni Moshanov). His dad owns a dry-cleaning store. He works there. He spends a summer or so having two relationships, one with a nice Jewish girl, set up by their parents, and one with the wild-child across the way. It sounds trite and cliched. It is not. This is a wonderful and deep film about a very specific group of people.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 19, “Hell Money” (1996; d. Tucker Gates)
Very disturbing world created: a secret lottery where men sell their body parts. Lucy Liu shows up! And the gorgeous B.D. Wong plays Mulder and Scully’s police-liaison with the Chinatown underworld.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 20, “Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space'” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
Brilliant. Cannot get enough. Watched this one with Keith and had him rewind it multiple times. Charles Nelson Reilly. Hilarious. The guy in the flashbacks, which are narrated by Scully, who refuses to swear as she tells the story. So the guy in the flashback is forced to say stuff like, “Where the bleep is the suspect?” Roaring. Loved this episode. Love silliness.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 21, “Avatar” (1996; d. James Charleston)
Walter Skinner (Mitch Pileggi, beloved of Supernatural fans) takes center stage. We also get to see him semi-nude and the man is CUT. What a bod. Meanwhile, the show is relatively sexless, especially when you consider the two leads resist kissing/declaring themselves … and seem to have minimal to zero sex lives. I own that I have a dirty mind, and all I want is to see Mulder and Scully have sex – with each other would be great, but with other people would be fine too. But the show doesn’t show me that. Instead, I get Walter Skinner fucking a prostitute in a very hot (for the show anyway) sex scene. Funny and tricky, sort of a “Gotcha! I know what’s on your mind so here it is” thing. I love Walter Skinner. Great character.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 22, “Quagmire” (1996; d. Kim Manners)
Mulder and Scully travel to a lake in George to investigate a Loch Ness monster-like creature. Poor Scully takes her dog on the trip. The dog is named Queequeg, which has multiple layers of meaning. There’s a great scene where Mulder and Scully are stranded on a rock in the middle of the lake in the middle of the night. They talk. Really well-written scene (Kim Newton + Rob Bowman) and gorgeously played by Duchovny and Anderson.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 23, “Wetwired” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
One of those great episodes that is, ostensibly, about a supernatural phenomenon – but then becomes about Identity itself. And Scully and Mulder get wrapped up in it, Scully especially, who descends into psychosis, thinking Mulder is up to no good, betraying her. Another episode where the relationship/bond is strengthened.

The X-Files , Season 3, Episode 24, “Talitha Cumi” (1996; d. R.W. Goodwin)
Season finale! Some really important plot-points introduced, one which I never saw coming. Figured it out immediately. Was shocked. Glanced over at Keith, who felt me looking at him, and closed his eyes, nodding, like, “Yup.”

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 1, “Herrenvolk” (1996; d. R.W. Goodwin)
Goodbye, Mr. X! See you on Supernatural, eventually! Very imaginative episode. Identical children, who don’t speak, working on a farm. Yeah, cause that’s reassuring.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 2, “Home” (1996; d. Tucker Gates)
So disturbing that it caused an upset with the network, who forced some sound edits on the episode, as well as a “There are some images in the following episode that may be disturbing to some viewers” warning. Keith had given me the background, and I thought, “How bad can it be?” We watched the first scene (the original, before the forced edits) and I thought, “Oh. Yup. It’s pretty bad.” A mind-fuck of an episode. The Peacock family makes The Benders look like Ozzie and Harriet.

Raise the Red Lantern (1991; d. Yimou Zhang).
Another one I somehow missed. 1991 was a bad year. I was driving across the country with my boyfriend for a good chunk of it. Unforgettable images. Those lanterns. That beautiful and claustrophobic compound. Gong Li. The ending is devastating. Gorgeous and upsetting film.

River of No Return (1954; d. Otto Preminger).
Robert Mitchum, Marilyn Monroe, on a wild raft. This film includes my favorite Marilyn Monroe number, “File My Claim” (unfortunately removed from Youtube). Gorgeous cinematography, and there are some scenes where Mitchum and Monroe clearly are the ones out there on that raft, which helps add to the verisimilitude of the whole thing. She’s lovely in it. They, of course, squabble throughout. She’s sweet and worldly at the same time, and is heart-achingly gorgeous, in her blue jeans, and long blonde braid. Playing her guitar against the mountains. He’s so lithe for such a big man, so sexy. Clearly meant to be seen in a huge theatre, on a huge screen. I own this one. My flat-screen TV, big as it is, just doesn’t quite allow for the scope that must be there in theaters.

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974; d. Martin Scorsese)
Haven’t seen this one in a while. I had forgotten how funny so much of it is. The dynamic between Ellen Burstyn and her son! The scene when he is basically tormenting her by telling her a “joke,” but he’s 11 years old, so he doesn’t know how to tell a joke, and it goes on … and on … and on … and on … and she’s driving the car, so she is trapped, and the scene ends with her literally dissolving into tears. It’s hilarious. Great cameo from Harvey Keitel. Kris Kristofferson is to die for. I recommend listening to the commentary track, too. Diane Ladd is wonderful and tells a story on the commentary track of Gena Rowlands coming up to her at a party or something and saying, “I’m going to nominate you for an Oscar for that.” Oh, Gena, I love you and your generosity. Diane Ladd had not thought of it as an Oscar-contender role (she thought it was too small). But she’s so important to the film. Wonderful movie. Messy 1970s movie.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 3, “Teliko” (1996; d. James Charleston)
Carl Lumbly is excellent as the social worker helping West African immigrants assimilate. He has the right mixture of bureaucratic exhaustion and a sense of protectiveness towards his clients.

Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 8 “Severance” (2015; d. Scott Hornbacher)
Playing catch-up. I love the show. I thought the final stretch of episodes were a beautiful and strange wrapping-up. My preference is to sit with things, ponder them, turn them over, think about them … without having to articulate a damn thing. At least not right away. I’m a slow processor. Of course I was aware of everyone talking about Mad Men constantly but I tuned much of it out.

Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 9 “New Business” (2015; d. Michael Uppendahl)
Oh, Megan. With your ambition and your hilarious bickering French family. How great has Julia Ormond been in the role of Megan’s mother? I love that performance so much.

Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 10 “The Forecast” (2015; d. Jennifer Getzinger)
Madison McLaughlin, Krissy from Supernatural, shows up, as a friend of Sally Draper’s who puts the move on Don Draper, and it’s pretty gross. I feel so protective of Joan. It’s a problem. I want everything to be Rainbows for her. She’s a tough cookie, though. She can handle herself.

Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 11 “Time & Life” (2015; d. Jared Harris)
Some interesting developments. The company being absorbed into McCann. Decisions need to be made. And, will wonders never cease, Pete and Trudy appear to be re-connecting. I love both of those actors so much.

Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 12 “Lost Horizon” (2015; d. Phil Abraham)
Oh, Don, what are you doing. Oh, Don, don’t ever change. The scenes of Joan dealing with the sexual harassment and being shut out of the new company are super-upsetting, such a step back from all the progress made. It’s not going to be a good fit for her. Peggy is torn. Peggy is awesome. Peggy’s office is not ready at the new place. She waits around in the old office, getting more and more pissed at the dis. This leads to her star-entrance into the new place, cigarette dangling, pornographic framed painting under her arm.

Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 13 “Milk & Honey Route” (2015; d. Matthew Weiner)
Oh, Don. Keep on running. What would it be like to be Don Draper? What a fascinating character. Seriously. And Betty. My God, Betty.

Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 14 “Person to Person” (2015; d. Matthew Weiner)
Stan has always been one of my favorite characters. I always thought they would make a good pair, and I am glad Weiner et al agreed. Not that it’s a “happy ending” but it’s as happy as the show has ever gotten. Thought the whole thing was brilliant and strange, all of a piece, a perfect ending to the Arc. Don is an ad man. I did not see the ending as cynical at all. I saw it as a re-assertion of its original principles. People change. But they never change entirely. And beware anyone who tells you different. They’re probably up to no good.

Love at First Fight (2015; d. Thomas Cailley).
Adorable French rom-com. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com.

Skeleton Twins (2014; d. Craig Johnson).
Loved it when I saw it in the theatre. Now I own it. And I still love it.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 4, “Unruhe” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
The normally unflappable Scully got very rattled during the episode and, frankly, so did I. Pruitt Taylor Vince plays the psychopath. The stilts freaked me out. The “howlers” freaked me out. Very disturbing episode, extremely effective.

Results (2015; d. Andrew Bujalski)
I’m a fan of Bujalski’s work. I think he’s quite interesting. His latest, starring Guy Pearce, Kevin Corrigan, and Cobey Smulders, is a rom-com. Very bizarre and entertaining. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com.

Supernatural, Season 10, Episode 23, “Brother’s Keeper” (2015; d. Phil Sgriccia)
A pretty underwhelming finale. But I thought the season as a whole was very strong.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 5, “The Field Where I Died” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
Mulder is apparently the reincarnation of a Civil War soldier. He has a very emotional monologue where he “remembers” and the camera is right up in his grill. Somehow not that effective. Left me kind of cold for some reason, although Duchovny did a lovely job.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 6, “Sanguinarium” (1996; d. Kim Manners)
O-Lan Jones is excellent. If you are afraid of going under anesthesia (which I am), the episode is a nightmare.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 7, “Musings of a Cigarette-Smoking Man” (1996; d. James Wong)
Weaving together all of the varying strands of mythology and mystery. A fun episode. I love the Lone Gunmen. Can I join?

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 8, “Tunguska” (1996; d. Kim Manners)
This episode is NUTS. Mulder ends up in a freakin’ Russian gulag. Was someone on the writing staff reading The Gulag Archipelago? One would hope so. The episodes where Mulder and Scully are somehow separated have a great tension in them, similar to what happens in Supernatural with the brothers. It’s great when the characters are in sync, working together – but none of that would be effective without those stretches of separation.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 9, “Terma” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
Part 2 of Mulder’s Gulag Archipelago Experience.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 10, “Paper Hearts” (1996; d. Rob Bowman)
The great Tom Noonan is a guest star. What a wonderful actor (and director. And writer.)

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 11, “El Mundo Gira” (1997; d. Rob Bowman)
X-Files done in the style of … a Mexican soap opera? I guess fans didn’t like it all that much back in the day. I thought it was kind of hilarious. I mean, it was also taking on a serious topic – immigration and migrant workers, etc. – but all done in an overheated soap opera style. Written by John Shiban.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 12, “Leonard Betts” (1997; d. Rob Bowman)
The wonderful Paul McCrane guest stars. McCrane, of course, has gone on to wide fame (heh heh) in E.R., but to me he will always … ALWAYS … be Montgomery from Fame. “Leonard Betts” is tremendously important in the series as a whole, one of those episodes with a gigantic reveal in the last moment. Keith said it was in this moment that he knew how hooked he really was (back in the day, I mean, during its initial run). REALLY well done.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 13, “Never Again” (1997; d. Rob Bowman)
Hot. Just hot. I’ll need some alone-time with this episode. AND. While Scully is getting a tattoo and hooking up with some random guy … Mulder is vacationing at Graceland. He calls her from The Jungle Room. The Jungle Room! Wearing big Elvis sunglasses. In reality, you cannot walk INTO the Jungle Room the way Mulder does, but I have to say – it was a pretty good replica of what that insane and awesome room is like. The stone wall, the monkey statue, the whole thing. Mulder has one week of vacation a year and he goes to Graceland. It’s a spiritual quest for him. I know the feeling. Like, really well. Meanwhile, Scully is keeping secrets and getting tattoos.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 14, “Memento Mori” (1997; d. Rob Bowman)
Emotional. I don’t care that “cancer” is a cliche in television terms. It’s extremely effective here. Especially Mulder’s protective reaction.

Siberiade Parts 1 and 2. (1979; d. Andrei Konchalovsky)
It’s ultimately four parts, I still have to get through Parts 3 and 4. A gorgeous film, detailing the 20th century in Russia, as seen through a small village in Siberia. The 1905 Revolution. The next revolution in 1917. Both world wars. And apparently, Parts 3 and 4 takes us up to the present day. Konchalovsky uses newsreel footage (beautiful rousing stuff) as chapter markers, bringing us from one era to the next. Huge cataclysmic events happen in the big cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg, but the whole thing takes place in “Elan,” a tiny wooden village in the middle of the Siberian forest. Only a couple of families live there. We meet a couple of generations, through Parts 1 and 2, and I imagine that will continue. The cinematography is extraordinary. A “road” of logs stretching as far as the eye can see, through the dense forest. An ice-boat whirling around on the frozen lake. And characters you get to know. It’s a time-commitment, for sure, but so worth it.

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015; d. George Miller)
So much fun I walked out of the theatre vibrating with pleasure.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 15, “Kaddish” (1997; d. Kim Manners)
Supernatural, too, had a “Golem” episode (one of my personal favorites: “These guys are psychopaths.”)

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 16, “Unrequited” (1997; d. Michael Lange)
This episode has a really interesting concept: a “blind spot” where a person can be hidden from view. Add to that the Vietnam war, and a bunch of political campaigns where the FBI is on security detail … and you get a lot of tension.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 17, “Tempus Fugit” (1997; d. Rob Bowman)
A return of Max, from Season 1, I believe, an alien abductee who has now devoted his life to researching aliens. He’s got a big ol’ Target on his back. He is basically zipped out of a plane during an alien abduction. Mulder and Scully have to put together what happened. I like the “lost time” bit of the plot (people’s watches stopping). Joe Spano shows up, too. I have always liked him.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 18, “Max” (1997; d. Kim Manners)
Oh, Agent Pendrell! No!

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 19, “Synchrony” (1997; d. James Charleston)
Time travel! Bodies going into deep freezes!

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 20, “Small Potatoes” (1997; d. Cliff Bole)
So funny. So clever. With a great twist at the end: Mulder (who is not Mulder) showing up at Scully’s apartment, and getting her drunk, and making the moves on her. The real Mulder bursts in at the last minute and … then the two never discuss it! (“So … if I were to try to kiss you … you’d let me?”) These two! Patience of Job, like I said!! But really funny episode.

The Angel and the Badman (1947; d. James Edward Grant)
Not realizing that John Wayne’s birthday was a couple of days later, I popped this one in last weekend. I love the movie. I wasn’t going to write about it, but then when I realized it was John Wayne’s birthday, I had to say something about one of his gestures in the film. Wonderful romance.

The Father of My Children (2009; Mia Hansen-Løve).
I will be reviewing her new movie, Eden, so I am going back to review her earlier films. I really like her style. What is so interesting about The Father of My Children is that it is about a man who commits suicide (it’s not really a spoiler, it’s in all the descriptions of the film) – and instead of ending with the suicide, leaving us to imagine the devastation and chaos that that event caused in his family (he has a wife, and three young daughters) … the suicide happens about 3/4s of the way through. And then Hansen-Løve explores the aftermath. How a wife manages. How a 15-year-old girl manages. How a 10-year-old manages. How his business partners pick up the pieces. I really look forward to her latest. She’s a very human film-maker.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 21, “Zero Sum” (1997; d. Kim Manners)
Walter Skinner, what are you DOING?

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 22, “Elegy” (1997; d. James Charleston)
I really enjoyed this episode, especially Scully’s journey within it, and her withholding stuff from Mulder. Her own fear of mortality, the dread inherent in that, Mulder’s worry about her (and trying not to be oppressive about it) … the two characters do NOT connect in “Elegy” and there’s a wonderful and tense honest-to-God fight scene that comes near the end. Again: only with a very slow burn do you get this sort of investment in the teeny tiny inner workings of a relationship. For me, it’s the glue of the story. Aliens Shmalians.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 23, “Demons” (1997; d. Kim Manners)
Good GOD, people, just TELL ME THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED. Lots of excellent relationship-stuff in this episode, because the roles reverse: Scully has been sick and Mulder worried, and now Mulder is out of it and Scully has to take care of him. Good stuff. It all takes place in Rhode Island too. Which means … nothing … since the whole thing is filmed in Vancouver anyway, but I liked picturing the two characters roaming around my home state.

The X-Files , Season 4, Episode 24, “Gethsemane” (1997; d. R.W. Goodwin)
The plot thickens. Scully reports to a scary FBI committee that she now believes Mulder is a “victim” of a vast hoax. What? No! Then the episode takes us into a winter wonderland with a frozen alien, and non-human DNA is somehow involved, but an informer inserts himself into the action saying: “The entire alien abduction thing was a hoax perpetrated on the American people by the United States military to cover up their super-duper hocus-pocus war airplanes and blah blah blah …” But it does open up some doubt in Scully’s mind. Meanwhile, she gets random nosebleeds. And is thrown down the stairs. Like she needs this shit. And end season.

(Dis)Honesty – The Truth About Lies (2015; d. Yael Melamede)
Michele and I went to go see this in its final night at the IFC Center. It was fantastic. A documentary about dishonesty, and liars, and how lying works, and why we all do it. There are big liars (Bernie Madoff) and little liars (the rest of us schmucks who tell someone they look nice when they don’t, or whatever). How does this operate? If we understand it better, can we create new models in our society/culture to inhibit these kinds of lying impulses. We had a really good time. It sounds very dry and depressing but it is not at all. Entertaining. Funny, even.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (2015; d. Alfonso Gomez-Rejon).
It hasn’t been released yet. Reviewing for Rogerebert.com.

The X-Files , Season 5, Episode 1, “Redux” (1997; d. R.W. Goodwin)
The two opening episodes of Season 5 KILLED me. Filled with emotion. Filled with tenderness. The show is normally so cool and abstract and deadpan. The emotion, then, when it comes, is visceral. Mulder touching Scully on her forehead: tremendously potent. Going to her bed in the middle of the night, as she sleeps, and sobbing, with his head nestled up next to her arm: Incredible.

The X-Files , Season 5, Episode 2, “Redux, Part 2” (1997; d. Kim Manners)
See above entry. Excellent two-episode arc, closing out a lot of problems that came up in Season 4.

The X-Files , Season 5, Episode 3, “Unusual Suspects” (1997; d. Kim Manners)
How the Lone Gunmen came to be. LOVE it.

Nightmare (2015; d. Rodney Ascher)
Documentary on sleep paralysis, brought to us from the director of Room 237, The ABCs of Death and Visions of Terror. It comes out this week and I’m reviewing for Rogerebert.com.

The X-Files , Season 5, Episode 4, “Detour” (1997; d. Brett Dowler)
Anthony Rapp! I was in a class with him a million years ago. I love the squeaky-clean FBI agents on their way to a team-building retreat, and the eye-rolls of Scully and Mulder in the backseat. Some damn-near flirtatious repartee in the motel room. Wonderful scene, too, with the two of them in the woods at night. Mulder lying his head in her lap as she sings … “Jeremiah was a bull frog …” I love the red-headed local cop, too. I love the casting: she’s a big tall woman, with a long red mane, and there are times when she and Scully are alone in the bright-green thick forest, and the two red-heads against all that green? To die for.

The X-Files , Season 5, Episode 5, “The Post-Modern Prometheus” (1997; d. Chris Carter)
I’m in heaven. A black-and-white episode inspired by James Whale’s Frankenstein movies. Plus Cher songs? What? Gorgeously done. Heart-stopping final moment. Plus Cher singing all about Elvis. Too much for me.

The X-Files , Season 5, Episode 6, “Christmas Carol” (1997; d. Peter Markle)
Very emotional episode. Excellent work from Gillian Anderson. Hits too close to home right now.

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Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” in ASL

Interpreter: Shelby Mitchusson.

I found this really moving and exciting. Her signing captures the exhilaration of the original song. It’s interesting too to watch it with the sound off. You still get the whole story. I enjoy her sign for “vomit on his sweater.” And “his soul’s escaping.”

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Snapshots

— And so ends my first week working at The New York Times. It’s been great so far, and super-interesting working in that building! To get to HR I had to walk through the main “news room.” I admit. I got goosebumps at the spectacular sight. But my job is good, I love the team I’m working with, and I love my New York Times badge. Very glad to have steady work (for a time, anyway, as long as this project lasts.)

— I’ve been trucking along with my Shakespeare Chronological Reading project. I’m up to Antony and Cleopatra. I enjoy it so much. This is my second time doing this, and it does take a long time, but it’s well worth it and I highly recommend it.

— I’m having surgery (sort of – let’s say a “procedure” to make it sound super-scary) on June 16. Bloomsday. This will be the first year I miss my Bloomsday celebration down on Wall Street and I’m upset about it. But I’ve been dealing with this health problem for so long, I just didn’t feel I could postpone the damn thing. So hopefully Molly Bloom’s positive ringing words that close out Ulysses will be with me on June 16. And that’s not even the end of it. After THAT, I will have to have the REAL procedure. It’s a drag. And I don’t have anyone to take care of me, so Mum is coming down to do that (very grateful). Ah, Bloomsday celebrants, I will miss thee.

— Speaking of the “ineluctable modality of the visible,” I got new glasses that make me look like a naughty-minx librarian (which is basically the essence of my personality) and I am very pleased with them. Also: I can SEE now. My eyes have also had all kinds of problems recently. Seriously, the health issues … they proliferate. I also have tendonitis and am now attending physical therapy in this wacko warehouse out in Jersey somewhere, where five Jersey-Boy goombahs (who are so kindly, so great) pound me, and work me, and pummel me, and throw me around, all as Judge Judy episodes play on the huge TV in the corner. I would like to go hang out there all day, forever, tendonitis or now. I am seeing some progress in my shoulder. Meaning: I can move my right arm now.

— I sound like an old biddy talking about my health issues. I can own that.

— Have been seeing a lot of good movies. Siberiade, for example. It’s in four parts (I’ve only seen the first two parts). I can’t believe I have missed this one. It’s gorgeous film-making, and tells the story of the 20th-century in Russia through the rising/falling fortunes of one small village in Siberia. Fantastic. Unforgettable images and characters.

siberiade-movie-poster-1979-1020233291

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Dave Grohl and Paul McCartney Saw Her Standing There

The sound quality isn’t great, but … I think I just came. Happy weekend!

1. This is my favorite Beatles song. Yes, it’s hard to choose, but this one is the clear winner for me. I made my choice at age 8 and I’m sticking to it.

2. WATCH DAVE GROHL. I’ve rambled on about my love of Dave Grohl before (and I compared him to Paul McCartney there!)- and my God, reality check: that post was written 10 years ago. For real? Everything I said there still stands. And it stands even more strongly when I watch him during this live clip with McCartney. I can’t take it. First of all, the opening: Dave Grohl crouched beside McCartney, grinning and cackling with excitement like a little kid. Omg, I’m about to play this song with McCartney. Oh. My. Fucking. God.

3. Once the song starts, keep watching Grohl. Why am I laughing so hard? He’s so into it! He’s US, in other words, and yet he’s also onstage. I remember a funny comment about first baseman Kevin Millar during the world-changing year of 2004: “He is the closest thing we’ll get to having a Red Sox fan ON the team.” I am laughing out loud. And Dave Grohl is brilliant, and a superstar, but in this moment, he’s a fan. And he can’t contain himself. His vibe is almost like he’s doing air-guitar by himself, alone in his bedroom. And that’s his thing, that’s how free he is onstage.

4. Listen to that audience sing along. It’s a Coliseum ROAR.

5. So around 1:10 or so, Grohl comes back into the microphone. He does some harmony lines, but mainly he’s just standing there, playing, and staring right at McCartney, with a white-hot focus of “YOU DA MAN.” It’s insane.

6. And then watch Grohl at around 1:24 on. I mean, that’s how we all feel, right? That’s what we would do. That’s what the song makes people feel like. From the moment it was released to now, to for always. That’s what you need to do. The music calls you to it.

7. Paul McCartney stepping back to give the stage to Grohl for his guitar solo. Look at the smiles on everyone’s faces. And please watch Grohl at around 1:57-1:60. I love this man.

I don’t need art to be joyful. I like all kinds of art. Mournful art, cynical art, satirical art. But the ability to express joy like this – all of the guys onstage actually are in that zone, watch their energy, their smiles, their support of one another, their freedom – is precious.

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The Books: Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing; “Temptation: Prospero, the Wizard of Oz, Mephisto & Co.; Who waves the wand, pulls the strings, or signs the Devil’s book?”, by Margaret Atwood

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On the essays shelf (yes, there are still more books to excerpt in my vast library. I can’t seem to stop this excerpts-from-my-library project. I started it in 2006!)

NEXT BOOK: Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing, a collection of a series of lectures, given by Margaret Atwood, about writers/writing.

In this lecture, Atwood discusses the relationship between a writer and his art. There is sometimes something uncanny there, which may be described as “evil”, as a sort of communing with the supernatural, a Faustian deal with the devil, in order to bring the art out. Writers often struggle with this, in little or large ways, even in the present day when we no longer burn witches at the stake. Atwood is interested in that anxiety, about the powers of the artist, and how the artist uses his power … and what that all might signify. In this chapter, Atwood references Stephen Dedalus repeatedly, the “star” of A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man (as well as Ulysses, although Atwood focuses on Portrait because it is about the “artist” more explicitly). The famous final line of Portrait, an entry from Dedalus’ journal, reads:

Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.

Which is glorious. Daedalus yearns to “forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.” A lofty goal, yes? And notice the ego: the “conscience” of the “race” is not yet created. It is up to the ARTIST to “create” it. (Any great artist has a massive ego. It comes with the territory. You need it – on so many levels you need it, just to have the guts to say, “I want to do this.” That is the entire journey of Portrait, through its five distinct chapter.) But in the final moment of the book, Dedalus calls on the “artificer”, acknowledging the art is not reality, reality is not art, that all is “artifice”. Whatever will come will be created. This is the power of creation.

Regular people are suspicious of artists. Or they say stuff like, “If I had the time, I would write a book.” Or “I have a great book in me.” (People say stuff like this to me all the time. “If I had the time I would write a book” is one of my least-favorite common sayings – almost up there with “He just played himself.” Oh, so, according to you, James Joyce wrote those books because he had the time to do so? George Eliot wrote Middlemarch because she had the time for it? Is that how you think art works? No wonder you haven’t written your glorious imaginary book. Art is hard, and you do it whether you have the “time” for it or not.)

An artist may very well tap into the “uncreated conscience” of the race, but how does he do it? Is he in touch with something slightly demonic or dark in order to do what he does? Who does he think he is? (and etc.) Does he think he’s better than us? Atwood is interested in that kind of relationship. Atwood’s books, while realistic (for the most part), often include unexplainable moments (the unforgettable moment on the snowy night with the floating woman in Cat’s Eye). It takes courage to write like that, to put “that” out there.

In this essay she talks a lot about worship: What does a writer worship? Is the writer a kind of priest? A “shepherd”? Once upon a time, writers were like prophets. Now? The world is different. How does a writer deal with the sense of his own “inconsequence”? Atwood’s lecture is filled with examples, varying from David Foster Wallace to T.S. Eliot. A writer’s sense of his own insignificance, or irrelevance, can bring forth magnificent works. But how does an artist perceive himself? And his own work?

To discuss all of these different elements, Atwood focuses her lecture on three “magical” characters, the Wizard of Oz, Prospero from Shakespeare’s The Tempest and Henrik Hofgen from Mephisto. These characters are all “artificers,” they truck in illusion. They are metaphors for artists. Are they madmen? Prophets? Con-men? Snake-oil salesmen? Do they believe their own magic? And how deeply? Here’s an excerpt.

Excerpt from Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing: “Temptation: Prospero, the Wizard of Oz, Mephisto & Co.; Who waves the wand, pulls the strings, or signs the Devil’s book?”, by Margaret Atwood

The Wizard of Oz – soi-disant magician, wielder of power, manipulator, illusionist, and fraud – has a long genealogy. His remote ancestor was probably a shaman or high priest or conjuror, or one who combined these functions. Other ancestors can be found in folklore. More recently, and in literature, he can be traced from Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus through Prospero of The Tempest. Prospero begot Jonson’s Alchemist and The Alchemist begot Thackeray’s Prologue to Vanity Fair with its puppet-show world controlled by the puppeteer as author. He also begot a lot of tyrannical magicians and artist figures, including Nathaniel Hawthorne’s sinister or deluded alchemists of “The Birthmark” and “Rappacinni’s Daughter.” Sometimes things turned nasty, and we got the bad magicians of E.T.A. Hoffmann – see also the Offenbach opera, Tales of Hoffmann, – and George du Maurier’s exploitative hypnotist Svengali in Trilby, and then there was some fooling around under the table, and who knows who begot whom, and further along there were the creepy shoemaker in the film The Red Shoes, and the master of the wax museum in Joseph Roth’s novel The Tale of the Thousand and Second Night, who creates illusionary monsters because that’s what people want. Then there are Thomas Mann’s hypnotist in “Mario and the Magician,” and Robertson Davies’s master-magician Eisengrim the Great, alias Paul Dempster, in the Deptford trilogy, and Bergman’s tormented hero in his film The Magician. They range from showmen out to make a buck to those who wish to manipulate the lives of others for fun and profit, to those who suspect their magic may in fact be real, and that the world of wonders they concoct really is a wonder, and a creator of wonder in others.

Let us then consider Shakespeare’s Prospero, for he is in a way the grand-daddy of all the rest. We know his story. Betrayed by his usurping brother, cast away with his daughter and his books – including, not incidentally, his books of magic – he fetches up on a tropical island, where he attempts to civilize the one native available to him, the witch-born Caliban, and when this fails keeps him under control by aid of enchantment. Along come the bad brother and the King of Naples and his court, shipwrecked on the island. Prospero calls up his familiar, the airborne elemental, Ariel, and proceeds to entice, confuse, and scare the pants off those erstwhile enemies whom Fate has now put into his power. His aim is not revenge, according to him – he wants to bring about their repentance: “They being penitent, / The sole drift of my purpose doth extend / Not a frown farther,” as he says. Once they are penitent, his own restoration as the Duke of Milan will follow, and also the marriage of his worthy daughter with the worthy son of the King, thus forestalling the proposed assassination of the latter. In short, Prospero uses his arts – magic arts, arts of illusion – not just for entertainment, though he does some of that as well, but for the purposes of moral and social improvement.

That being said, it must also be said that Prospero plays God. If you don’t happen to agree with him – as Caliban doesn’t – you’d call him a tyrant, as Caliban does. With just a slight twist, Prospero might be the Grand Inquisitor, torturing people for their own good. You might also call him a usurper – he’s stolen the island from Caliban, just as his own brother has stolen the dukedom from him; and you might call him a sorcerer, as Caliban also terms him. We – the audience – are inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, and to see him as a benevolent despot. Or we are inclined most of the time. But Caliban is not without insight.

Without his art, Prospero would be unable to rule. It’s this that gives him his power. As Caliban points out, minus his books he’s nothing. So an element of fraud is present in this magician figure, right from the beginning: altogether, he’s an ambiguous gentleman. Well, of course he’s ambiguous – he’s an artist, after all. At the end of the play Prospero speaks the Epilogue, both in his own character and in that of the actor that plays him; and also in that of the author who has created him, yet another behind-the-scenes tyrannical controller of the action. Consider the words in which Proposer, alias the actor who plays him, alias Shakespeare who wrote his lines, begs the indulgence of the audience: “As you from crimes would pardoned be, / Let your indulgence set me free.” It wasn’t the last time that art and crime were ever equated. Prosper knows he’s been up to something, and that something is a little guilt-making.

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Review: Results (2015); directed by Andrew Bujalski

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I’m a fan of the work of writer/director Andrew Bujalski. He emerged from the “mumblecore” crowd with a unique vision and style (he stood out because he had a style, not to mention actual shooting scripts). Computer Chess was fantastic, one of my favorite movies that year. Hitting theaters today is his latest, Results, about a competitive group of personal trainers in Austin, Texas, and it is his first film to feature established actors. I thought it was very funny, and extremely weird (a compliment in my book – if the whole thing works, that is.) It’s not perfect, but it’s different enough, unique enough, to be a really refreshing and bizarre rom-com. I highly recommend it.

My review of Results is now up at Rogerebert.com.

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R.I.P. Mary Ellen Mark

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My first job was as a page at a local library. I would go there after school, shelve books for a couple of hours, and then head home. I ended up working there all through high school. Because one of my jobs was to return books to their rightful shelves, I handled many many books that were far too mature for me, and were way beyond my years. One of them was Mary Ellen Mark’s Streetwise, an extraordinary book of photos detailing the lives of kids living on the street in Seattle.

The photo above, of the little girl with the veiled hat, was on the cover, and the image didn’t just strike me, it stopped me dead in my tracks. I was 12 years old. I didn’t know what I was sensing, I didn’t know what that photo meant. She looked like she was around my age, she could be a classmate, but there was something in her face that seemed entirely … off the map of my own experience, let’s just say that. I didn’t understand. So before I put the book back in its rightful place, I looked through its pages. And the bottom dropped out of my stomach. I fell into a trance. It was horrible what I was seeing, but it was beautiful too. The photographs of those kids were eloquent and stark, their emotions on the outside of their skin, their experience laid bare for the camera.

There was text and quotes accompanying the photographs. I read it all (in small spurts during my various shifts at the library.) I would go and find the book on the shelf in a slow moment, and read a little bit more. I was a sheltered child and I knew somehow that the book was meant for adults, but I had to keep looking. I got to know all of the kids. Sleeping on dirty mattresses in empty warehouses. Bumming cigarettes from passersby. And Tiny, who really became the “star” of the book (she was the girl on the cover), the child-prostitute. Tiny haunted me. I stared and stared and stared at all of the photographs of her. I wanted to know what it felt like to be her. I felt like I got a glimpse into that just by looking at her face. I didn’t realize it then but I was in the presence of Mary Ellen Mark’s considerable genius. Or maybe I did realize it. Maybe I did think to myself, “I have never seen photographs like this!”

I got to know that book by heart. I worked at the library for 5 years, so I had my daily pit-stops in the shelves. That’s how I read the entirety of Carroll Baker’s autobiography, in 5 minute spurts. A life-changer. In 1984 came the Streetwise documentary but I was still in high school and not really clicked into the art-house scene. I wasn’t paying attention. But when I finally put it together, I saw the documentary and I saw those photographs – the ones I had memorized – come to life. All of those faces I had come to know so well, I got to see them moving, and walking and talking.

There are many other photographs from Mary Ellen Mark that are famous.

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The one of Marlon Brando with the bug. But it is Tiny et al that I am thinking about now, because without Mary Ellen Mark I would never have known of their existence. I was not alone in being haunted by Tiny. Mary Ellen Mark periodically would go back to check on her, see how she was doing (Tiny, Streetwise Revisited). Once you meet Tiny, you never forget her. Mary Ellen Mark revisits “Streetwise” 30 years later.

The fact that Mary Ellen Mark got “access” to these street kids to such an intimate degree that they opened themselves up to the camera as rawly as they did, tells me (and told me) everything I need to know about who Mary Ellen Mark was, not just as a photographer, but as a human being.

Rest in peace.

Posted in Art/Photography, RIP | Tagged | 5 Comments