I was watching TV today and stumbled across Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining," a movie that I've probably seen a dozen or so times, on the A&E network. In one scene Jack's talking to the poltergeist bartender about how he broke Danny's collarbone once due to a "momentary lapse of muscular coordination." At one point Jack calls Danny a "son of a bitch"--at least in the uncut version. However, in the edited, A&E version, Jack calls Danny a "son of a gun."
"Really?" I thought. This is the same movie in which waves of blood flood the elevators and halls of the hotel, Jack makes out with an old woman whose flesh is rotting off her bones, Jack puts an axe head in a man's spine, and so on, and so on. I got to thinking--there's something a little ironic about the standards the FCC has created for editing mature content. Now, it's not that I necessarily want to hear the phrase "son of a bitch" in it's unadulterated form while I'm watching movies about maniacal axe murderers; it's just that I think it's odd that someone, a person who's job it is to decide these types of things, looked at "The Shining" and said, "Tuxedoed man fellating and man in a bear costume: OK. But 'bitch' has got to go."
I spent quite a bit of time with my nephews over the holidays, and there are definitely certain things on TV that I'd rather they not see. Would I think it's OK for my 4- and 6-year-old nephews to watch "The Shining" since the word "bitch" was edited out of the movie? Absolutely not. But that's not really the point. The point is that somebody at A&E went to their editing man and said, "Johnson, we've got to get this picture ready to air on television, OK?" So Johnson goes to work, edits out "bitch," makes a handful of other changes, and takes the reel back to his supervisor. The supervisor watches the edited version, sees the blood, sees the disturbing sex acts, sees that "bitch" has been edited out and says, "Fine work, Johnson!" Something just seems off with that.
I'm not arguing that everything aired on TV should be completely unedited. Well, maybe I am. The reality is that everyday life is crude and shocking and inappropriate at times. And the good and decent and kind and caring are the ones who are tasked with dealing with the difficulties of life. Namely, I'm talking about parents. I had the misfortune of being revolted by an example of what I would call bad parenting recently. (No one in my family, thank the Maker.) By the time I heard, "Get your ass off the stairs!" yelled at a 2-year-old for the tenth time, I was thinking, "That poor kid's going to have problems when he grows up." (But at least he won't hear "bitch" in "The Shining"!)
The other issue is: Have you seen what's on TV these days? (Here is where I slip into my Andy Rooney impersonation.) Pretty much everyone I know has been deploring the likes of "The Real World" and "The Hills" and whatnot for quite a while. I understand that these shows are guilty pleasures, and I certainly have my fair share of guilty pleasures. But, seriously, every time I happen across VH1 or MTV any more, there's some ridiculous show on that has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Whatsoever! The premise of all these shows seems to be "Let's cram the most vapid, superficial people we can find into a house and make them compete in demeaning, embarrassing contests to win a prize that no person in their right mind should ever want to win!" Am I right or am I right?
But back to the original point: Flip through the channels any given day and you're bound to see a couple people being blown away with Uzis, maybe a stabbing, a decapitation if you're lucky. But really, what's more damaging and disturbing to the psyche of a child? A curse word, or a homicide? I would argue the latter. And how about a murder or a nipple? In that case, I would argue the former. You can see 50 men get hosed down with a Gattling gun, but a nipple? That's unacceptable! We all have them! I have them. You have them. Elaine Benes and Jerry Seinfeld and Kramer have them. So what's the big deal? Call me what you will, but I've never been offended by a nipple. And it's not the breast that's the issue. It really is the nipple. I know this because I saw "The Graduate" on the other day, and they showed the go-go dancer. Everything but the nipple. Even in the context of a married couple making love it would not be allowed. But isn't the act of making love the most intimate, loving experience two people can share? I did, however, see "The Red Dragon" on TV the other day, and I saw Ray Liotta sitting at the dinner table with his head peeled like a melon and his brains glistening in the light. And I saw Robocop on TV and saw a man get his jugular ripped out.
And we can turn on the Discovery Channel or Animal Planet and see every creature on God's green Earth procreate. Lions, elephants, dung beetles, yellow-breasted warblers--you name it. But a human's nipple? Out of the question! Again, I'm not arguing that pornography should be broadcast on NBC, I'm just trying to wrap my head around this.
I guess what I don't get is how, generally, violence gets the OK while other less-offensive, in my opinion, acts get the kibosh. Now, I think we can all agree that Jack shouldn't have called his son a "son of a bitch" or a "son of a gun." But of everything that happened in the Overlook Hotel, was that Jack's greatest sin? According to the FCC, the answer may be yes.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Synecdoche, New York: A Modern Hamlet (Highfalutin Warbling)
...and speaking of the ouroboros, I saw Synecdoche, New York, a new movie written and directed by Charlie Kaufman. It's the story of a theater director, Caden Cotard, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, who dedicates his life to producing one monumental story that he hopes will make his existence worth while: the story of his life.
(I've attempted to avoid any spoilers, but read on at your own risk.)
With the usual dose of Kaufmanesque irony and circularity, Caden's friends and family become characters in the play, and the actors who play those characters become his friends and family, and so on and so on until a comic pitch is achieved. Almost immediately, managing the production of his play becomes as impossible as the management his own life with characters, relationships, and sets becoming a confused mess that sprawls out into the streets of New York. Unlike some of Kaufman's other movies, however, the plot itself is relatively easy to follow. (In fact, describing the storyline--at least my summary--is probably more confusing than the plot itself.) Is it puzzling? Yes. Utterly ridiculous at moments? Sure. Baffling? Absolutely. At times I wondered, "Is this going to end up being a 2-hour joke on the audience?" And you could certainly make the argument that it is. But what makes Synecdoche, New York, so compelling and, I would argue, touching, despite sporadic outright lunacy, is the way in which it holds the mirror up to nature and to life.
One of the reasons Hamlet has always been a darling of art and literature is Shakespeare's use of metatheatricality--the play within a play device. Hamlet constantly feigns whatever emotion or disposition he thinks will allow him to extract information from the other characters and lead him to the murderer of his father. Madness, sincerity, love, cruelty--Hamlet is a master player. Like Hamlet, Caden becomes so consumed by the need to "play" and "direct" that the line between reality and the production becomes obscured. Shakespeare often revisited the theme of appearance versus reality and the metaphor of life as a play, most famously in the words of Jacques in As You Like It:
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."
Act 2, scene 7, 139-143
Not only does Caden "play many parts"--father, son, husband, player, director--but he witnesses and reenacts every major and minor tragedy in his life. In doing so, he allows history to repeat itself over and over again and never truly moves on. And, although Kaufman tempers each tragedy with a half-cocked wink at the audience, as layer upon layer and stage upon stage is built, Caden is never able to get it quite right. He fixates on every minor detail so much so that he is unable to enjoy or appreciate any small pleasure in his life at the present.
Throughout the movie, Kaufman peppers in moments that can only be described as touchstones of the audience's faith. Challenges almost. "If you're willing to laugh at this, maybe I can take it a bit further." But the world Kaufman, and ultimately Caden, creates is one that requires at least a passive disbelief. "Of course none of this could ever happen, but wouldn't it be horrible/wonderful if it did?" I suppose what Kaufman may be trying to say is that there are certain aspects of life that don't make sense, that we don't have control over, but we inevitably have to accept. And maybe finding a way to appreciate the chaos of life is what keeps the sane sane, and the rest teetering on a razor's edge.
The fact that every person in Caden's life becomes a character in the play underscores that fact that we often wish we could play the directors of our pasts. If only I would have done this instead, if only I'd said this, if only. The truth of the matter is that we have to make the best decision we know how at the time and only in a perfect world could we go back and replay each scene. But in doing so, would we ever really move forward? For Caden, the answer is no. As time becomes Caden's enemy, he loses control of his own actions and becomes an observer of his own life, rather than the director.
I think Synecdoche, New York, can be interpreted two very different ways. One way, the cynical viewpoint in which the play and stage are nothing more than black-barred cages, echoes the thoughts of Shakespeare's Macbeth:
"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5, 19-28
But I prefer to think that Kaufman means for Synecdoche, New York, to serve as a cautionary tale against that mindset. That every player has his mark and his lines and his worth to the story as a whole and that the oddities of the play, the happy and not-so-happy accidents, are what keep it interesting. I think Kaufman wants us to realize that, as in the movie, life's tribulations are often mollified by simple pleasures. Like Hamlet, Caden's play ultimately brings his demise, but not before he realizes the time he spent looking back was wasted and could have been better dedicated to the wonderful, the sad, the funny, the horrible, the touching, of the present.
(I've attempted to avoid any spoilers, but read on at your own risk.)
With the usual dose of Kaufmanesque irony and circularity, Caden's friends and family become characters in the play, and the actors who play those characters become his friends and family, and so on and so on until a comic pitch is achieved. Almost immediately, managing the production of his play becomes as impossible as the management his own life with characters, relationships, and sets becoming a confused mess that sprawls out into the streets of New York. Unlike some of Kaufman's other movies, however, the plot itself is relatively easy to follow. (In fact, describing the storyline--at least my summary--is probably more confusing than the plot itself.) Is it puzzling? Yes. Utterly ridiculous at moments? Sure. Baffling? Absolutely. At times I wondered, "Is this going to end up being a 2-hour joke on the audience?" And you could certainly make the argument that it is. But what makes Synecdoche, New York, so compelling and, I would argue, touching, despite sporadic outright lunacy, is the way in which it holds the mirror up to nature and to life.
One of the reasons Hamlet has always been a darling of art and literature is Shakespeare's use of metatheatricality--the play within a play device. Hamlet constantly feigns whatever emotion or disposition he thinks will allow him to extract information from the other characters and lead him to the murderer of his father. Madness, sincerity, love, cruelty--Hamlet is a master player. Like Hamlet, Caden becomes so consumed by the need to "play" and "direct" that the line between reality and the production becomes obscured. Shakespeare often revisited the theme of appearance versus reality and the metaphor of life as a play, most famously in the words of Jacques in As You Like It:
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."
Act 2, scene 7, 139-143
Not only does Caden "play many parts"--father, son, husband, player, director--but he witnesses and reenacts every major and minor tragedy in his life. In doing so, he allows history to repeat itself over and over again and never truly moves on. And, although Kaufman tempers each tragedy with a half-cocked wink at the audience, as layer upon layer and stage upon stage is built, Caden is never able to get it quite right. He fixates on every minor detail so much so that he is unable to enjoy or appreciate any small pleasure in his life at the present.
Throughout the movie, Kaufman peppers in moments that can only be described as touchstones of the audience's faith. Challenges almost. "If you're willing to laugh at this, maybe I can take it a bit further." But the world Kaufman, and ultimately Caden, creates is one that requires at least a passive disbelief. "Of course none of this could ever happen, but wouldn't it be horrible/wonderful if it did?" I suppose what Kaufman may be trying to say is that there are certain aspects of life that don't make sense, that we don't have control over, but we inevitably have to accept. And maybe finding a way to appreciate the chaos of life is what keeps the sane sane, and the rest teetering on a razor's edge.
The fact that every person in Caden's life becomes a character in the play underscores that fact that we often wish we could play the directors of our pasts. If only I would have done this instead, if only I'd said this, if only. The truth of the matter is that we have to make the best decision we know how at the time and only in a perfect world could we go back and replay each scene. But in doing so, would we ever really move forward? For Caden, the answer is no. As time becomes Caden's enemy, he loses control of his own actions and becomes an observer of his own life, rather than the director.
I think Synecdoche, New York, can be interpreted two very different ways. One way, the cynical viewpoint in which the play and stage are nothing more than black-barred cages, echoes the thoughts of Shakespeare's Macbeth:
"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5, 19-28
But I prefer to think that Kaufman means for Synecdoche, New York, to serve as a cautionary tale against that mindset. That every player has his mark and his lines and his worth to the story as a whole and that the oddities of the play, the happy and not-so-happy accidents, are what keep it interesting. I think Kaufman wants us to realize that, as in the movie, life's tribulations are often mollified by simple pleasures. Like Hamlet, Caden's play ultimately brings his demise, but not before he realizes the time he spent looking back was wasted and could have been better dedicated to the wonderful, the sad, the funny, the horrible, the touching, of the present.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Ouroboros: A Blog?
Who am I-Andy Rooney? Reading back over my first post, I thought, “What crotchety old bastard wrote that?” I sound like someone who refused to buy a VCR in the ‘80s because he didn’t want to learn how to work the thing. Oh well. As a wise man once said, “20/20 is good eyesight.”
This brings me to my second minor diatribe on blogs. Like most anything I’ve ever written, having time to gain distance and depth offers the opportunity to critique my own, and very rarely am I not in some way embarrassed about what I wrote. Actually being proud is even rarer. This applies to term papers, short stories, resumes, grocery lists-you name it. And now blog entries. About the only time I look back at something I wrote and think, “Not too shabby,” is when I read some little scribble or sketch that I wrote that 99% of the people in the world would read and say, “I don’t get it.” One such story is the tale of Tuck, which I will post now to demonstrate my point:
Tuck the Wiley Belt Buckle
Tuck was a sad but wily belt buckle and he had many problems that he could not face. He would hide himself on a shelf and never look in the mirror. He used to have friends that would play with him and love him all day long. But that was then and this is not then. Tuck got so mad one day that he decided not to buckle at all.
Gary, his owner, asked him, “Tuck, why will you not buckle today?”
And to this Tuck replied, “
“Oh, hogwash, Tuck. You know I need you to buckle so that my pants will not fall down.”
Tuck looked deep into
Tuck then cried out, “Oh,
“Okay,” answered Tuck. And the two strolled off into the distance.
THE END
I have several of these that I plan on posting on from time to time, so I caution any potential reader: be prepared to possibly develop a migraine, become angry or confused, and/or any combination of the aforementioned.
I realize that my first two posts have mainly been critiques of blogs themselves, so I’m considering renaming my blog something along the lines of “Blog: The Blog Blog,” or maybe “Ouroboros-A Blog.” I’ll keep you posted. (Get it? POSTED? Blog humor! OWW!) How long before I cringe when I read this post? Probably not long.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Hi, Hello. Yes. No, thank you. And you are? Congratulations!! I'm sorry. Yes, thank you.
Okeedoke. Well, inaugural blog post commence:
I've generally thought that blogs and blogging were a wee bit narcissistic and ego-centric, but this is a modern era, so I figured, "What the hell." I don't pretend to think that anybody's going to read this, much less care about what I write, but I guess it might be a good way to write on a consistent basis.
I suppose the main problem I've had with starting a blog is the same problem I've had with status updates on social networking sites like Facebook and MySpace. Are some people so vain that they think people care what the hell they're doing at 6 PM on a Tuesday? "Tim Sardepartment is eating a can of peaches." "Burt Dangley is picking the lint between his toes." "Sally Lally is buying a new pair of rockin' jeans." For the most part, I don't even care what my close friends are doing throughout the day, not to mention somebody I met once three years ago. And I just assume they don't care what I'm doing either. Don't get me wrong, I've posted status updates before, but within an hour or so of posting them I usually think, "Who the eff cares?" and I delete it.
Now, I think there are certain times and circumstances when blogs, status updates, etc. are useful social tools. For instance, I have friends in other parts of the country and abroad who I like to keep in touch with on some minimal level, so being able to visit their blog from time to time is a great way to do so. And if you want to say, "Thanks for the birthday wishes, everyone! or "I just got engaged!" on your status update, I say go for it. But, "Bonson Ronson is waiting at the airport"? Really? Fascinating! What a unique human experience! Are there other people at the airport? If so, I wish I could see their faces!
I don't claim that these ideas are original or useful in any way. And I'll be the first to admit that I'm as full of BS as the next schmuck on the street. But I suppose that, on the rare occasion that I might have something worthwhile to say, this might be a good forum to do so.
"Graham Shafer is going to check the mail now." (Ever done it before? Then you know exactly how I feel!)
Okeedoke. Well, inaugural blog post commence:
I've generally thought that blogs and blogging were a wee bit narcissistic and ego-centric, but this is a modern era, so I figured, "What the hell." I don't pretend to think that anybody's going to read this, much less care about what I write, but I guess it might be a good way to write on a consistent basis.
I suppose the main problem I've had with starting a blog is the same problem I've had with status updates on social networking sites like Facebook and MySpace. Are some people so vain that they think people care what the hell they're doing at 6 PM on a Tuesday? "Tim Sardepartment is eating a can of peaches." "Burt Dangley is picking the lint between his toes." "Sally Lally is buying a new pair of rockin' jeans." For the most part, I don't even care what my close friends are doing throughout the day, not to mention somebody I met once three years ago. And I just assume they don't care what I'm doing either. Don't get me wrong, I've posted status updates before, but within an hour or so of posting them I usually think, "Who the eff cares?" and I delete it.
Now, I think there are certain times and circumstances when blogs, status updates, etc. are useful social tools. For instance, I have friends in other parts of the country and abroad who I like to keep in touch with on some minimal level, so being able to visit their blog from time to time is a great way to do so. And if you want to say, "Thanks for the birthday wishes, everyone! or "I just got engaged!" on your status update, I say go for it. But, "Bonson Ronson is waiting at the airport"? Really? Fascinating! What a unique human experience! Are there other people at the airport? If so, I wish I could see their faces!
I don't claim that these ideas are original or useful in any way. And I'll be the first to admit that I'm as full of BS as the next schmuck on the street. But I suppose that, on the rare occasion that I might have something worthwhile to say, this might be a good forum to do so.
"Graham Shafer is going to check the mail now." (Ever done it before? Then you know exactly how I feel!)
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