Read an amazing book…

and then procrastinated writing about it until the very last day when I had to take it back to the library because I’m awful.

Ta-nehisi Coates, my role-model in writing, my best friend in my imagination, had this to say about the Brad Paisley/ LL Cool J collaboration, so astute I hooted out loud:

One of the problems with the idea that America needs a “Conversation On Race” is that it presumes that “America” has something intelligent to say about race. All you need do is look at how American history is taught in this country to realize that that is basically impossible.

Eula Biss, a white (although she complicates this in her book) writer, wrote a book called Notes From No Man’s Land: American Essays, in 2010 and it is extraordinary. Reviewing this book in Salon, Kyle Minor writes,

Eula Biss’ “Notes From No Man’s Land” is the most accomplished book of essays anyone has written or published so far in the 21st century. If it has not taken up residence in the popular imagination of readers in the same way Joan Didion’s “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” did in the late 1960s, perhaps it is because we live in a time in which it is more difficult for books to assert themselves with great cultural force in the way they once did, or perhaps because Biss, unlike Didion, has yet to receive the strong support of the systems of power that bring great books to the attention of a broad readership.

I would also argue this book hasn’t received the attention it deserves because it is a prickly and uncomfortable book about race. Ta-nehisi has always been incredible on the subject of why this “conversation on race” is so rarely done right:

I have had conversations with very well-educated people who, with a straight face, have told me that there are Black Confederates. If you ask a very well educated person how the GI Bill exacerbated the wealth gap, or how New Deal housing policy helped create the ghetto they very likely will not know. And they do not know, not because they are ignorant, stupid, or immoral, they do not know because they are part of country that has decided that “not knowing” is in its interest. There’s no room for any sort of serious conversation when the basic facts of history are not accessible.

Eula Biss, in an interview about revising the essays in this book in 2008:

I was revising this collection during Obama’s campaign and I remember feeling dismay at one point because the national conversation about race in that moment felt so misguided, so atrophied, so impoverished. Almost everything I heard about race on the news was silly or stupid and so I began to worry that my book assumed some basic understandings that just didn’t exist in this country yet.

In one of her great essays, Biss describes teaching a class at the University of Iowa while working on her master’s degree:

Racism, I would discover during my first semester teaching at Iowa, does not exist. At least not in Iowa. Not in the minds of the twenty three tall, healthy, blond students to whom I was supposed to teach rhetoric…. Sexism does not exist either, at least not any more. My students considered my interest in these subjects very antiquated. These things, they informed me, with exasperation, had already been resolved a long time ago, during the sixties.

This book is so rare and so uncomfortable because it is tackling a subject most people refuse to acknowledge even exists, or refuse to acknowledge as complex. I need to buy this book, and re-read it, and stew in it, and write longer on it soon. But please read it, if you want to be challenged, and amazed, and floored.

The American cynicism awards…

I had an aneurysm about this earlier today on Facebook. And I say this as a huge fan of country music, and even a fan of Blake Shelton, Miranda Lambert and Brad Paisley.

This might be the WORST song of all time. It’s insidious garbage, and everything that’s wrong with “mainstream” country music these days. Lyrics, basically: we love beer, god, trucks, don’t like black people, but will gladly steal their musical forms, all to appeal to some imagined white redneck lowest common denominator “country fan” that the marketing department of the record label came up with. Not to mention that this kind of music leads to some kind of horrible echo chamber wherein it creates actual fans who feel that they subscribe to this idiotic world view. Stop insulting the intelligence of your audience, “mainstream” country music, all the way to the bank. I expected more, from Brad Paisley and Sheryl Crow especially.

This kind of music makes a huge amount of money by asking us to our very worst selves, by asking Americans to be their worst selves. We should expect more from this music, because it can and has always been so much more. This is not an anti-commercialism rant, or a rant about the lack of ‘authenticity’ in “mainstream” country music – Mary Chapin Carpenter, Dolly Parton, the Dixie Chicks, and Dwight Yoakam, all of these people are definitely in it to make money – and yet, they resist the kind of craven cynicism that leads to this kind of garbage:

Boys round here they’re keepin it country/ Ain’t a damn one know how to do the Dougie/ “You don’t know how to do the Dougie?”/ No, not in Kentucky.

So, just to recap – they are referencing a hip-hop song, while disparaging and distancing themselves from it, wanting the hip cachet that comes along with a “rap” while completely removing the taint of blackness. GROSS. I need to take 50 showers. I am BEYOND disappointed in Blake Shelton.

RIP Roger Ebert

From Slate:

Roger understood how much movies matter, how a good one can burrow into our souls, and he never let anyone forget it. It’s hard to imagine him no longer out there watching, thinking, and writing about movies. But it’s comforting to know that he changed the way we watch, think, and write about movies forever—and for the better.

From Rolling Stone:

The death of Roger Ebert is a blow to movies, not just movie criticism. He energized the medium by taking it on full force, two-fisted, making it better by not letting the suits get away with anything.

From Dana Stevens, movie critic at Slate:

But he remained relentlessly modern, always alive to the particularity of the current moment he was living and curious about the one that would come next. It was that quality—paired with a seemingly bottomless reserve of intellectual and physical energy—that made him so keenly observant as a critic and such a master of the epigrammatic, fast flowing Twitter form.

And from a letter he wrote her after she wrote him when she was twelve for advice on how to become a film critic:

go to all of the good movies you can and write-write-write for any place that will print your stuff.

I have been thinking about movies a lot lately, and about criticism. Reading about Ebert, and reading about Pauline Kael recently, kind of made me wish I was better at being a critic. I’m not very good at being critical of movies. I love so many of them, even the deeply flawed ones, and I’m not great at articulating why I love them. My near-constant refrain after seeing almost anything: “I liked it.” or “I loved it.” I have never pushed myself to think hard about movies. I’m trying to change this. I’m also trying to “write-write-write” as much as I can, and submit to anywhere that will print my stuff. It’s not going well. Many of the tributes to Ebert have mentioned how since his illness he has endured so much pain and yet he was energized in his writing and commentary. I think it’s absolutely amazing and inspiring.

So I will re-read some Ebert and try to figure out how to think smarter about movies. Ebert more than anyone showed you can love movies and be thoroughly and precisely critical at the same time.

First thoughts on the Godfather I and II

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An ambitious pair of movies. The second one compliments the first seamlessly, particularly in the relationships between Michael and Kay, and Michael and Vito (both as children). Diane Keaton’s eyebrows were unnerving, but her performance was great. Pacino is so quiet, especially in the first film. I’m used to a Pacino who yells. I loved him, especially in the first film. I love how Robert DeNiro plays a young Vito in the second, and the parallels in the acting and character between Pacino and DeNiro. All of DeNiro’s best scenes in part two are when he isn’t speaking: standing aside helpless and broke while Fredo is sick as a baby; taking out the Don and disposing of the weapon and then taking a seat with his family during the festivities; holding baby Michael on the train back in Italy. Also, young DeNiro is a babe. No one told me this! Also, Brando’s quiet scenes are menacing and fantastic. Stroking the cat in the opening scene. Playing with Michael’s son in the garden and dying.

The costumes, especially in the flashbacks were stunning. The cast was excellent. Some unforgettable shots. I would have liked to see more of Mama’s interior life and thoughts, how she spends fifty years with this violent man, who nonetheless loves his family endlessly. Kay can’t hack it with this bunch, nor can Connie, really, so what makes Mama able to stand it?

My recent film education…

I never saw many classic movies growing up. We were music nuts in my house, spending hours and hours on Dylan B-sides and bootlegs, but my parents and older brother never took it upon themselves to educate me in the classics when it came to movies. I could, however, write a phd thesis on Steven Seagal and Bruce Lee movies.

So with a lot of time on my hands, what with finishing school and being out of a job, and being unable (or unwilling) to write, I have been making up for lost time. Callum is a great guide in this whole thing.

It started with Hitchcock’s North by Northwest, which I watched for the film studies class I was TAing. I don’t know how I managed to get picked to TA that class, seeing as my only previous film studies experience was in an undergraduate class on gender and German cinema from Weimar era to the 70s. Fritz Lang, I know. Fassbinder, I get. But when it comes to American movies, I hadn’t even seen a Hitchcock movie. Callum warned me on the way out the door to my class on NBNW that the movie really inspired one of my favourite movies. I was delighted when the movie started and I realized it was basically a slicker, slightly more elegant version of the Big Lebowski. Back when people wore super class clothes all the time. Loved it. When Eva Marie Saint says “I don’t particular like the book I’ve started” on the train, Cary Grant’s reaction is priceless.

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Then Callum realized I had never seen Rear Window or Psycho, and even better, I didn’t know the twist at the end of Psycho. He had the biggest grin while watching me watch Psycho. Didn’t think Psycho was great, although Anthony Perkins was fantastic. Rear Window, I liked a lot, especially Grace Kelly’s frigging wardrobe.

We saw Shadow of a Doubt at the TIFF theatre in Toronto, which also had a before and after film chat with Guillermo del Toro, which was beyond amazing. I loved Shadow of a Doubt. The snarky little sister who only takes her head out a book to make a witty comment was the absolute best part of the movie. Notorious was another favourite, which we watched recently.

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And so I recently read a biography on Pauline Kael, who somehow I had never heard of, and yet she was apparently one of the most famous critics in history. I KNOW, I WAS TOO BUSY WATCHING UNDER SIEGE 50 TIMES TO LEARN THIS STUFF. Her biography made me realize a whole other classic era of cinema that I’ve missed out on – late 60s and 70s American cinema. I’ve seen Serpico. And Taxi Driver. And Rocky 1 and 4. That’s about it. Haven’t seen any of the Godfathers, haven’t seen Chinatown, or Midnight Cowboy, or Bonnie and Clyde.

So I’ve made the trip to the Hamilton Public Library (which is amazing) and picked up the Godfather box set. I’ve heard the third ones sucks, but we start tonight with Part 1.

Send me a list of movies that I’m missing out on! I’ve seen a shitload of movies made since the early 90s, but very little before then.

Sweet jesus.

Tammy on a windy November afternoon…

This song is vast and strange. It just keeps getting weirder to me every time I hear it.