We received an e-mail at work a few weeks ago asking us to go online and "update our ethnicity." The Department of Education, the federal one, is collecting data on the race and ethnicity of college employees and students. I suspect it might have something to do with our having received a couple of grants as a Hispanic-Serving Institution over the past dozen years or so.
I dutifully went to the page online that I was supposed to use and answered the two questions. The first simply wanted to know if I was Hispanic or Latino. Since I'm not Hispanic or Latino, I then had to choose from a series of lists to identify more accurately what my ethnicity is. Well, to be more accurate, there were five categories--American Indian or Alaskan Native, Asian, Black or African American, Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander, or White. The Asian category had nine subcategories based upon national ancestry (Cambodia, China, India, Japan, Korea, Laos, Vietnam, the Philippines, and Other), and the Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander had four subcategories, again based upon national ancestry (Guam, Hawaii, Samoa, or Other). The other three had only the one item per category. Before you start to ask, yes, I could check more than one box; we weren't restricted to only one ethnicity, which is good to know.
I don't object to reporting my ethnicity. I have only a vague sense of my family's ancestry anyway, so it's only speculative on my part. We're supposedly Scotch-Irish on my grandfather's side, and my grandmother always claimed that we had a Dutch background as well. Of course, she also claimed that one of her ancestors (a word she would never have used, for the record) was a "Hindi." I asked her once if she meant Hindu, but she'd never heard of that. I can't imagine that anyone in my family is truly of Hindu background, but who knows? There's also a strong Native American influence in my genetics, probably either Chickasaw or Choctaw in nature. Anything else is completely unknown to me.
My issue has to do with the way it was presented to us: "updating" our ethnicity. I can update my contact information when I change my cell phone number or when I move to a new address. I can change my emergency contact person if I decide I want someone else to make decisions for me, so that's an update. How exactly, though, do I "update" my ethnicity? I can report it, certainly, but updating it seems a bit far-fetched. Have I changed my ethnicity since the last time I was asked? Perhaps I should contact my mother to see if we are now of Guamanian descent. Or perhaps we actually are Hispanic or Latino, but I wasn't at the family reunion this year to listen to the deliberations.
I know this all seems rather silly, but I am an English teacher, after all. Language matters, and the words we use should be chosen carefully. You'd think that someone at the offices of a school district would have thought about the implications or the connotations of the word "update" before using that to describe the process we're undergoing. Or perhaps they just wanted us to have a chance to reconsider who we are. Knowing that we might have to do this on a regular basis, I'm going to start thinking about what ethnicity I want to be the next time I'm asked for an update.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Cheri
Last weekend, I ventured out of the apartment a couple of times. Once was to see a production of Reefer Madness: The Musical in downtown Fullerton. I went with N and R, and we all had a lot of laughs, and N and I had a few mojitos afterward to make the day even more enjoyable. The theater where the musical is being staged is one of the hardest to find I have ever encountered, but as I tell people who are trying to find my apartment for the first time, once you've been there, it's easier.
On Sunday, I went with a friend to see the movie Cheri. It's only playing in one theater here in Los Angeles (if it's still playing, that is). It's based upon a Colette story, and it features a luminous performance by Michelle Pfeiffer. It's been a while since she has starred in a film. The last time I saw her on screen was in a supporting role in Hairspray. It was such a delight to watch her be the center of attention again. She deserves it.
The plot, as with many films based upon works by Colette (think Gigi), is simple. An older woman falls in love with a younger man, only to have her heart broken by him when he chooses (is forced to choose, really) marriage with another woman, someone closer in age to himself. That's really the whole movie. Yet what Pfeiffer accomplishes is a master class in acting. She has moments where she doesn't speak, yet every emotion is evident on her face and not in some ham-fisted way, either. She is masterful at expressing herself in subtle ways. There's one close-up in this film that is just as memorable as the final close-up of Glenn Close in Dangerous Liaisons. You have to experience it yourself--preferably on a large screen--to appreciate it fully. Any description of it wouldn't do justice to its impact.
Speaking of that earlier film, which also starred Pfeiffer, it's the same team of director Stephen Frears and writer Christopher Hampton who created Cheri. They've given their star some great material here, especially the discussions about growing older and how people react to you as you "mature." I couldn't help thinking that moments like those were directed at the Hollywood studios, with their insistence on new, young, "fresh" stars and their habitual abandonment of some of the more talented performers. And Pfeiffer only brings greater resonance to those moments because she is just as stunningly beautiful as ever.
By the way, Cheri is not the name of Pfeiffer's character. That's actually Lea de Lonval. Cheri is the young man, the son of one of Lea's fellow courtesans. To be honest, I didn't quite see what anyone saw in him. He's played by Rupert Friend, who is, I suppose, attractive enough, but his character is such a twit. I know that he's meant to be representative of a certain type of young man common to the Belle Epoque, so I guess I should just be grateful that that period ended quickly.
It might be a bit of a challenge to find Cheri in a theater near you, but it's worth the effort for Pfeiffer's performance. I doubt very many people will get to see this movie, and that's a shame. It's only playing in art house theaters, and the audiences are rather small. Maybe a dozen or so people saw it when we did. Anyone who doesn't take the opportunity to catch this film is missing out on my early favorite for the best female performance this year.
Monday, July 20, 2009
What I Learned
I'm grading essays for my literature class. Still? Again? Tough to tell sometimes.
I always find literature papers intriguing. Sometimes, the students take on challenging texts and do amazing things with them. Other times, they tackle poems or stories that seem to have been thoroughly mined already, yet they come up with a new, different, unique perspective.
And then there are the students who provide valuable non-literary insights in their essays. Such as the following statement, the opening sentence to an essay about Tennyson's "Ulysses": "Even old, wrinkly people can have dreams and aspirations."
I have so much to look forward to. At least, I hope it's still looking forward. I need to look in a mirror.
I always find literature papers intriguing. Sometimes, the students take on challenging texts and do amazing things with them. Other times, they tackle poems or stories that seem to have been thoroughly mined already, yet they come up with a new, different, unique perspective.
And then there are the students who provide valuable non-literary insights in their essays. Such as the following statement, the opening sentence to an essay about Tennyson's "Ulysses": "Even old, wrinkly people can have dreams and aspirations."
I have so much to look forward to. At least, I hope it's still looking forward. I need to look in a mirror.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Rough Draft
Here's the thesis for one of the rough drafts I read this weekend for my English literature class: "In two of his [Charles Dickens] most famous works, A Christmas Story [sic] and Oliver Twist, there are many similarities between the two if one takes the time to look a little below the surface."
Aside from the fact that this thesis has no specific focus, which is a significant problem, it suggests that every similarity must be discussed. Right? You'd expect a litany of similarities to follow, lots and lots of details from both works that are common.
What actually follows is one-and-a-half pages that, basically, point out that there's a little boy in "A Christmas Carol" and there's also a boy in Oliver Twist.
Shocking. That wouldn't seem at all obvious to someone who has read either work or even to someone who has never read the works but only heard of them.
Then there is a paragraph with two sentences about the moral endings of the two works. There are no specific details or examples from either work to support this assertion.
Attached to the second and last page of this exhaustive analysis is a Post-It with this message: "I got stuck on what else I could say. Could I do differences as well?"
Sigh. How can you advise a writer who feels exhausted after writing so little? Is this the future of literary studies?
Aside from the fact that this thesis has no specific focus, which is a significant problem, it suggests that every similarity must be discussed. Right? You'd expect a litany of similarities to follow, lots and lots of details from both works that are common.
What actually follows is one-and-a-half pages that, basically, point out that there's a little boy in "A Christmas Carol" and there's also a boy in Oliver Twist.
Shocking. That wouldn't seem at all obvious to someone who has read either work or even to someone who has never read the works but only heard of them.
Then there is a paragraph with two sentences about the moral endings of the two works. There are no specific details or examples from either work to support this assertion.
Attached to the second and last page of this exhaustive analysis is a Post-It with this message: "I got stuck on what else I could say. Could I do differences as well?"
Sigh. How can you advise a writer who feels exhausted after writing so little? Is this the future of literary studies?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Reassured about Insurance
A couple of weeks ago, I received an envelope from my car insurance company. Inside was one of those little yellow feedback cards. You know the kind. "How would you rate our handling of your claim?" The problem is I hadn't filed any claim in years. I started to worry that someone had filed a false claim, and my insurance had paid out some money to some criminal posing as me.
I called up my agent and gave her the claim number. She took a few minutes to find my file and locate the information. It turns out that the insurance company had finally retrieved all of its money from a claim I had filed four years ago. That's diligence, if you ask me. This company didn't stop until the owner of the vehicle responsible for the damages to my car had paid in full (with some interest, apparently, as well). The yellow card was an indication that the claim was finally "closed," at least in the minds of the insurance company honchos.
Here's what happened four years ago this month. I was dating someone new, and he was going to off to Mexico for a week to be at some artists' retreat. We went to dinner on his last night in town--a sushi place on Santa Monica Boulevard, not bad, actually--and returned home. I helped him pack up a few things and then watched him take off in the shuttle that he had ordered before he and I met (in case you're wondering why I didn't just drive him to the airport myself and save myself all of this grief). Just as an aside, the relationship didn't last long after he returned from Mexico because he turned out to be a bit of a jerk, but that's a post for another day.
When I walked out to the street to get into my car--we had walked to the restaurant from his condo--I noticed police cars all around. My car had apparently been hit by a rather large vehicle, and the entire driver's side was almost caved in. The front bumper had been almost completely torn off, too, with only a couple of inches still attached on the passenger side of the car. Four other cars had also been hit, one of them hardly recognizable as a car any longer. Mine was still sort of drive-able, so I took it home and called the insurance company. They started to work.
Once I got the police report later that week, I found that mine and the other cars had been hit by a speeding drunk driver in a Yukon. In case you're not familiar with that model, it's an enormous SUV. I was driving a Saturn L300 at the time, so imagine the amount of damage a huge truck like a Yukon could do to my mid-sized car if the driver was drunk and speeding. The police had arrested him and charged with a few different offenses, but he had been subsequently released after paying his fines. My insurance company and some others were in the process of filing claims against him. My car was in the shop for almost a month as a result of all of the damage, and I can't imagine the other cars (if they could even be fixed) got repaired any quicker. The one parked in front of me had to be totaled by the crash.
The insurance company paid for almost all of the repairs to my car, something to the tune of about seven thousand dollars as I recall. I had to pick up the tab for the deductible, of course, but the insurance company got that money for me out of the Yukon driver and mailed me a second check for that amount. I was only inconvenienced by not having a car for several weeks during the summer. At least, I wasn't working then and could just enjoy the leisure time.
By the way, this car accident was what prompted me to get a cell phone. I hadn't owned one prior to this accident, and I had so much trouble finding a working pay phone that night that I decided that I would make purchasing a cell phone a top priority when I got my car back. I couldn't even call a tow truck, prompting me to consider abandoning my car at one of those places that says cars will be towed if left overnight. I didn't. I managed to get the car home after all, but it was an incredibly slow drive.
I still am amazed that the insurance company--named for one of the Roman gods, if you must know--has been working on this case for four years. I must say that I am impressed that the driver of the vehicle had to pay them back for all of the money he cost them. I know that, at the time of the accident, I certainly wanted to make him pay. My anger subsided a bit when all was taken care of by the insurance company, but I feel comforted knowing that he has been punished for boozing it up and getting the behind the wheel of an enormous tank and plowing down five cars parked on a street. There is a little bit of justice in the world after all.
I called up my agent and gave her the claim number. She took a few minutes to find my file and locate the information. It turns out that the insurance company had finally retrieved all of its money from a claim I had filed four years ago. That's diligence, if you ask me. This company didn't stop until the owner of the vehicle responsible for the damages to my car had paid in full (with some interest, apparently, as well). The yellow card was an indication that the claim was finally "closed," at least in the minds of the insurance company honchos.
Here's what happened four years ago this month. I was dating someone new, and he was going to off to Mexico for a week to be at some artists' retreat. We went to dinner on his last night in town--a sushi place on Santa Monica Boulevard, not bad, actually--and returned home. I helped him pack up a few things and then watched him take off in the shuttle that he had ordered before he and I met (in case you're wondering why I didn't just drive him to the airport myself and save myself all of this grief). Just as an aside, the relationship didn't last long after he returned from Mexico because he turned out to be a bit of a jerk, but that's a post for another day.
When I walked out to the street to get into my car--we had walked to the restaurant from his condo--I noticed police cars all around. My car had apparently been hit by a rather large vehicle, and the entire driver's side was almost caved in. The front bumper had been almost completely torn off, too, with only a couple of inches still attached on the passenger side of the car. Four other cars had also been hit, one of them hardly recognizable as a car any longer. Mine was still sort of drive-able, so I took it home and called the insurance company. They started to work.
Once I got the police report later that week, I found that mine and the other cars had been hit by a speeding drunk driver in a Yukon. In case you're not familiar with that model, it's an enormous SUV. I was driving a Saturn L300 at the time, so imagine the amount of damage a huge truck like a Yukon could do to my mid-sized car if the driver was drunk and speeding. The police had arrested him and charged with a few different offenses, but he had been subsequently released after paying his fines. My insurance company and some others were in the process of filing claims against him. My car was in the shop for almost a month as a result of all of the damage, and I can't imagine the other cars (if they could even be fixed) got repaired any quicker. The one parked in front of me had to be totaled by the crash.
The insurance company paid for almost all of the repairs to my car, something to the tune of about seven thousand dollars as I recall. I had to pick up the tab for the deductible, of course, but the insurance company got that money for me out of the Yukon driver and mailed me a second check for that amount. I was only inconvenienced by not having a car for several weeks during the summer. At least, I wasn't working then and could just enjoy the leisure time.
By the way, this car accident was what prompted me to get a cell phone. I hadn't owned one prior to this accident, and I had so much trouble finding a working pay phone that night that I decided that I would make purchasing a cell phone a top priority when I got my car back. I couldn't even call a tow truck, prompting me to consider abandoning my car at one of those places that says cars will be towed if left overnight. I didn't. I managed to get the car home after all, but it was an incredibly slow drive.
I still am amazed that the insurance company--named for one of the Roman gods, if you must know--has been working on this case for four years. I must say that I am impressed that the driver of the vehicle had to pay them back for all of the money he cost them. I know that, at the time of the accident, I certainly wanted to make him pay. My anger subsided a bit when all was taken care of by the insurance company, but I feel comforted knowing that he has been punished for boozing it up and getting the behind the wheel of an enormous tank and plowing down five cars parked on a street. There is a little bit of justice in the world after all.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Served Well
Sad news for those familiar with the British television comedy Are You Being Served? Mollie Sugden, who played the brightly haired Mrs. Slocumbe on the show, passed away July 1. I used to watch the show regularly on KOCE here in Southern California, thanks to Partner at the Time, who is English and was familiar with the show from his days there. It's allegedly a take on the huge department store Harrod's and featured some memorable characters like Mrs. Slocumbe and Mr. Humphries (John Inman), one of the most outrageously gay men on television.
One of the running jokes on the show was about Mrs. Slocumbe's cat. Of course, that's not the word she used to describe her pet. Someone has edited together a lot of funny moments related to her "pussy." I know this is more scandalous than you might expect from me, but I couldn't resist having a chuckle, especially when she's on the phone with her neighbor Mr. Akbar. Enjoy, in particular, the one featuring her with a bright pink hairdo near the end of this collection.
Sadly, Inman and Wendy Richard (who played Miss Brahms) have also passed away in recent years. Everyone in the cast brought so much joy to people familiar with the show. If you've never watched an episode, put one in your Netflix queue and prepare to laugh.
One of the running jokes on the show was about Mrs. Slocumbe's cat. Of course, that's not the word she used to describe her pet. Someone has edited together a lot of funny moments related to her "pussy." I know this is more scandalous than you might expect from me, but I couldn't resist having a chuckle, especially when she's on the phone with her neighbor Mr. Akbar. Enjoy, in particular, the one featuring her with a bright pink hairdo near the end of this collection.
Sadly, Inman and Wendy Richard (who played Miss Brahms) have also passed away in recent years. Everyone in the cast brought so much joy to people familiar with the show. If you've never watched an episode, put one in your Netflix queue and prepare to laugh.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Teaching the State of California
I'm teaching a night class this summer. We're studying English literature since 1800, and we've made it through the Romantics and are almost finished with the Victorians. This is a good class, filled with lots of smart students from throughout the state. I know they are all students at my college now, but here's just a few of the places where they "regularly" study: Fullerton College (naturally), Mt. San Antonio College, UCLA, Chapman University, Loyola Marymount University, Biola University, Stanford University, and the Cal State Universities at Fullerton, Long Beach, and the Channel Islands. That's quite a range. Apparently, very few colleges or universities are offering summer school classes, and those that are have a very limited set of offerings for students. We seem to have attracted people from all over the state. Perhaps next summer we'll go national or even international.
Some of my colleagues will, of course, state that the reason the class is so talented is this mix of students from the universities. I think, however, that our community college students are just as well suited to this class as those coming from the four-year schools. The home-grown students seem to be just as insightful and participatory as anyone else. It's good to have a chance to compare, and it's perhaps even better when the comparison comes out so favorably.
Some of my colleagues will, of course, state that the reason the class is so talented is this mix of students from the universities. I think, however, that our community college students are just as well suited to this class as those coming from the four-year schools. The home-grown students seem to be just as insightful and participatory as anyone else. It's good to have a chance to compare, and it's perhaps even better when the comparison comes out so favorably.
The MP3 Shuffle Challenge
The directions from my friend D on Facebook were simple:
1) turn on your mp3 player
2) go to Shuffle songs mode
3) Write down the first 25 songs that come up...song title and artist-- NO editing/cheating, please.
4) Choose 25 people to be tagged. It is generally considered to be in good taste to tag the person who tagged you.
I followed the directions and here is what resulted. I will try to keep the commentary to a minimum.
"I'm Alright" by Jo Dee Messina
"Get Right" by Jennifer Lopez
"I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston
"War" by Edwin Starr
"Sara Smile" by Hall & Oates
"Lovesick Blues" by Hank Williams (Sr.)
"If We Make It Through December" by Merle Haggard
"The Rest of Your Life" by Kenny Loggins
"Hard Luck Woman" by Kiss
"Mi Amor Contiki" by Disco Ruido! (from the Rudo y Cursi soundtrack)
"Intermission" by Scissor Sisters
"My Heart Sings" by Frances Faye
"Wait for Me" by Hall & Oates
"Oo-de-Lolly" by Roger Miller (from the Disney animated film Robin Hood)
"The Best of My Love" by the Eagles
"Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears
"I Want You to Want Me" by Los Odio and Juan Son
"Larger than Life" by the Backstreet Boys
"Hello Stranger" by Emmylou Harris
"Dear Me" by Lorrie Morgan
"Somebody to Love" by Queen
"The Way We Were" by Barbra Streisand (the album version, not the soundtrack one)
"Where Is It Written?" by Barbra Streisand (from Yentl)
"Goin' on a Holiday" by Labelle
"The Love Boat Theme" by Jack Jones
I think the only word that fits is "eclectic." I'll leave it to the professionals to analyze what my random song selection says about me.
(By the way, I seem to have lost the bullets function on Blogger. I think I used to have it, but it has disappeared. So I apologize for not having the list look more orderly.)
1) turn on your mp3 player
2) go to Shuffle songs mode
3) Write down the first 25 songs that come up...song title and artist-- NO editing/cheating, please.
4) Choose 25 people to be tagged. It is generally considered to be in good taste to tag the person who tagged you.
I followed the directions and here is what resulted. I will try to keep the commentary to a minimum.
"I'm Alright" by Jo Dee Messina
"Get Right" by Jennifer Lopez
"I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston
"War" by Edwin Starr
"Sara Smile" by Hall & Oates
"Lovesick Blues" by Hank Williams (Sr.)
"If We Make It Through December" by Merle Haggard
"The Rest of Your Life" by Kenny Loggins
"Hard Luck Woman" by Kiss
"Mi Amor Contiki" by Disco Ruido! (from the Rudo y Cursi soundtrack)
"Intermission" by Scissor Sisters
"My Heart Sings" by Frances Faye
"Wait for Me" by Hall & Oates
"Oo-de-Lolly" by Roger Miller (from the Disney animated film Robin Hood)
"The Best of My Love" by the Eagles
"Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears
"I Want You to Want Me" by Los Odio and Juan Son
"Larger than Life" by the Backstreet Boys
"Hello Stranger" by Emmylou Harris
"Dear Me" by Lorrie Morgan
"Somebody to Love" by Queen
"The Way We Were" by Barbra Streisand (the album version, not the soundtrack one)
"Where Is It Written?" by Barbra Streisand (from Yentl)
"Goin' on a Holiday" by Labelle
"The Love Boat Theme" by Jack Jones
I think the only word that fits is "eclectic." I'll leave it to the professionals to analyze what my random song selection says about me.
(By the way, I seem to have lost the bullets function on Blogger. I think I used to have it, but it has disappeared. So I apologize for not having the list look more orderly.)
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Quick Takes
I have been to several movies in the past month, but I rarely have time to blog about them these days. (I read books, too, but hardly anyone else these days seems to care about that activity. Try talking to someone outside of an English department about a book you recently read and see what happens to you.) In the interest of sharing, here are some random thoughts on recent films.
I really enjoyed Easy Virtue. It's better than the reviews it received. Jessica Biel plays an American race car driver who falls in love with and quickly marries the son of an aristocratic English family (of course, that phrase could be redundant for the movies). The family, headed by that always reliable charmer Colin Firth and the witheringly funny Kristin Scott Thomas, seems to be rather traditional and conservative, at least if Scott Thomas' Mrs. Whittaker is any example. The movie is based upon the Noel Coward play, and I love his ear for dialogue. There are some great moments of slapstick here, and several scenes where characters analyze each other with scalpel sharp tongues--witty stuff. I'd also like to praise the music, all done in the style of the 1920s and 1930s, including a musical hall version of the 1976 classic "Car Wash." I downloaded the songs as soon as I got home from the theater.
The Hangover has gotten a lot of press this summer, and frankly, I was a bit underwhelmed by it. Yes, it's pretty funny, but that's mostly because of the situation, not because of, say, the actual dialogue, which is rather cliched. It's just a "bad trip to Vegas" movie with a veneer of cleverness over it. I did like the performances by Bradley Cooper and Ed Helms, and Zach Galifianakis seems like he's in another movie altogether, which really works here, oddly enough. Any movie that manages to get mileage out of a cameo from Mike Tyson can't be all bad, but can we please stop with the "fag jokes" already? I'm so bored with having comedies, in particular, resort to using such stupid humor.
My Life in Ruins stars Nia Vardalos of My Big Fat Greek Wedding fame. Here she's a former university professor reduced to giving tours of the Greek islands. Of course, most of the people who wind up on her bus are what they used to call "ugly Americans," and they fit every stereotype you could imagine for tourists. I will admit to being temporarily intrigued by the fellow who's an IHOP manager, but then he started talking about syrup and lost me. The real reason to see this movie--other than a few fun moments with Richard Dreyfus--is Vardalos' co-star, Alexis Georgoulis, whose character is the sadly named Poupi Kakas. He starts out as the scary looking bus driver and turns into the hot Greek stud by movie's end. Hey, at least, you'll have something to look at besides ruins. It's all a cliche, frankly, but Nia and Alexis actually made an appearance at the screening I attended to answer questions and promote the film, so I'm willing to forgive them this time. It's all relatively harmless fun, and the scenery (of all kinds) is quite beautiful.
Sex Positive is a documentary about one of the three men credited with creating the concept of safe sex. His name is Richard Berkowitz, and he's an intriguing central figure. He isn't an easy interview by any means, and he's always changing his mind about comments that he has made. He's sometimes brazen about his past, and at other times, he doesn't really want to talk about some of the things he's done. The other people who are interviewed seem to appreciate and accept just how difficult Berkowitz and his colleagues, Michael Callen and Dr. Joseph Sonnabend, had it when they tried to convince gay men in the 1980s to try, for example, using condoms. This is a significant historical document of a specific time in our history, one that is not frequently discussed for any number of reasons.
The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 is one of the most unnecessary movies released this year. It's a remake of a 1974 film which was perfectly fine as it was. There was no real need to make a new version of this film because none of the updates to the story really contribute to its being more interesting. The lead performance by Denzel Washington is good, but the other lead actor, John Travolta, is in fun "ham" mode in this one. I could never quite figure out why his character looks the way he does: the haircut, the tattoos, everything. I kept thinking it was supposed to be some kind of ethnic representation, but the film takes you off that path pretty quickly. Rent the original instead. You'll have a better time.
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is truly a silly movie. I suppose it could serve as the perfect example of a popcorn movie, no substance, all style, just like everything director Michael Bay does. The explosions were frequent but not too loud, thankfully. Shia LaBeouf and Megan Fox are fine if a bit bland as the "heroes," but I'd rather watch sidekick Ramon Rodriguez. He's at least interesting. I have never seen all of the first Transformers movie, and I wasn't a fan of the TV show either. I don't even know when the show as on the air. Still, if a friend invites you and you want to get out of the house for a few hours, I suppose this is harmless enough. After the show, I overheard a young boy say it was "the awesomest movie ever." I'm glad he had a good time, but it does make me wonder about the future of America if he's any example. And I still want to know how the robots can be almost five times as large as the cars or trucks from which they transform. Yes, I know I'm not supposed to puzzle over questions like that in a movie like this.
I really enjoyed Easy Virtue. It's better than the reviews it received. Jessica Biel plays an American race car driver who falls in love with and quickly marries the son of an aristocratic English family (of course, that phrase could be redundant for the movies). The family, headed by that always reliable charmer Colin Firth and the witheringly funny Kristin Scott Thomas, seems to be rather traditional and conservative, at least if Scott Thomas' Mrs. Whittaker is any example. The movie is based upon the Noel Coward play, and I love his ear for dialogue. There are some great moments of slapstick here, and several scenes where characters analyze each other with scalpel sharp tongues--witty stuff. I'd also like to praise the music, all done in the style of the 1920s and 1930s, including a musical hall version of the 1976 classic "Car Wash." I downloaded the songs as soon as I got home from the theater.
The Hangover has gotten a lot of press this summer, and frankly, I was a bit underwhelmed by it. Yes, it's pretty funny, but that's mostly because of the situation, not because of, say, the actual dialogue, which is rather cliched. It's just a "bad trip to Vegas" movie with a veneer of cleverness over it. I did like the performances by Bradley Cooper and Ed Helms, and Zach Galifianakis seems like he's in another movie altogether, which really works here, oddly enough. Any movie that manages to get mileage out of a cameo from Mike Tyson can't be all bad, but can we please stop with the "fag jokes" already? I'm so bored with having comedies, in particular, resort to using such stupid humor.
My Life in Ruins stars Nia Vardalos of My Big Fat Greek Wedding fame. Here she's a former university professor reduced to giving tours of the Greek islands. Of course, most of the people who wind up on her bus are what they used to call "ugly Americans," and they fit every stereotype you could imagine for tourists. I will admit to being temporarily intrigued by the fellow who's an IHOP manager, but then he started talking about syrup and lost me. The real reason to see this movie--other than a few fun moments with Richard Dreyfus--is Vardalos' co-star, Alexis Georgoulis, whose character is the sadly named Poupi Kakas. He starts out as the scary looking bus driver and turns into the hot Greek stud by movie's end. Hey, at least, you'll have something to look at besides ruins. It's all a cliche, frankly, but Nia and Alexis actually made an appearance at the screening I attended to answer questions and promote the film, so I'm willing to forgive them this time. It's all relatively harmless fun, and the scenery (of all kinds) is quite beautiful.
Sex Positive is a documentary about one of the three men credited with creating the concept of safe sex. His name is Richard Berkowitz, and he's an intriguing central figure. He isn't an easy interview by any means, and he's always changing his mind about comments that he has made. He's sometimes brazen about his past, and at other times, he doesn't really want to talk about some of the things he's done. The other people who are interviewed seem to appreciate and accept just how difficult Berkowitz and his colleagues, Michael Callen and Dr. Joseph Sonnabend, had it when they tried to convince gay men in the 1980s to try, for example, using condoms. This is a significant historical document of a specific time in our history, one that is not frequently discussed for any number of reasons.
The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 is one of the most unnecessary movies released this year. It's a remake of a 1974 film which was perfectly fine as it was. There was no real need to make a new version of this film because none of the updates to the story really contribute to its being more interesting. The lead performance by Denzel Washington is good, but the other lead actor, John Travolta, is in fun "ham" mode in this one. I could never quite figure out why his character looks the way he does: the haircut, the tattoos, everything. I kept thinking it was supposed to be some kind of ethnic representation, but the film takes you off that path pretty quickly. Rent the original instead. You'll have a better time.
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is truly a silly movie. I suppose it could serve as the perfect example of a popcorn movie, no substance, all style, just like everything director Michael Bay does. The explosions were frequent but not too loud, thankfully. Shia LaBeouf and Megan Fox are fine if a bit bland as the "heroes," but I'd rather watch sidekick Ramon Rodriguez. He's at least interesting. I have never seen all of the first Transformers movie, and I wasn't a fan of the TV show either. I don't even know when the show as on the air. Still, if a friend invites you and you want to get out of the house for a few hours, I suppose this is harmless enough. After the show, I overheard a young boy say it was "the awesomest movie ever." I'm glad he had a good time, but it does make me wonder about the future of America if he's any example. And I still want to know how the robots can be almost five times as large as the cars or trucks from which they transform. Yes, I know I'm not supposed to puzzle over questions like that in a movie like this.
The Problem with Twinks
Last Sunday, I went to see the Gay Men's Chorus of Los Angeles perform their final concert of the season. It was entitled "Broadway!" (please note the exclamation mark--it's vitally important) and featured Tony and Grammy award-winner Jennifer Holliday (that's how she was billed). I always enjoy the chorus. They have impeccable taste when it comes to choosing songs to sing, and Sunday's concert featured some of my favorites.
The show started with "The Bitch of Living" from Spring Awakening, a show I saw last year at the Ahmanson, followed by "Life Is" from Zorba, which I have never seen. The third song of the day is one I have always loved: "We Kiss in a Shadow" from The King and I. They had a lovely arrangement of the song, and listening to all of those beautiful male voices blending together just made it even more joyous for me. If I recall correctly, Jennifer came out next and did a solo number, "Blues in the Night." All of her trademark "sounds" were a part of the performance, and I knew we were in for a real treat.
"My Junk" from Spring Awakening was next, followed by a medley of songs from South Pacific. Of course, "There Is Nothing Like a Dame" got big laughs, and "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair"--complete with shower stalls and well-built boys in towels--got a lot of sighs. "He Vas My Boyfriend" from Young Frankenstein was done with boys in leather, a rather inspired and somewhat inspiring touch for quite a few in the audience. I loved that they sang "(Not) Getting Married Today" from Company; it was a perfect political statement in this post-Prop. 8 world of California. After "Loving You" from Passion, a show I need to watch again soon, they ended the first act by dueting with Jennifer on "One Night Only" from Dreamgirls.
It was during the intermission that I had my twink problem. I purchased my tickets online the day before the performance, so I was in the balcony. I still had a great view, but one of these days I'm going to think ahead and get tickets closer to the action, so to speak. I was sitting behind a row of six or seven friends, all of them in their twenties (isn't almost everyone these days?). Two or three of them decided to stay behind during the intermission, and they were talking about how much they liked the show so far.
I was trying to read a book I had brought with me. You should always have a book handy; it helps to keep you from getting bothered too often. Still, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation. Twinks are notorious for being loud; it must be from all of those years talking on cell phones. One of them asked, "Now why is Jennifer Holliday here?" I almost tore my book in half. When his friend answered that she didn't know either, I decided to butt in and share that Jennifer was the original Effie White on Broadway when Dreamgirls opened. That's right, dear. Long, long before Jennifer Hudson wowed you in the movie theater, Jennifer Holliday was wowing them on the stage. In fact, anyone who's see both performances will tell you that Hudson borrowed deeply from Holliday's performance.
See for yourself. I'm not responsible for the picture quality, by the way. First up is Holliday's performance from the Tony Awards broadcast for 1982.
Now it's Hudson's turn. Tell me you can't see any difference between these two.
Sigh. The younger generation has no sense of history. And it doesn't seem to bother them at all, either. You might recall that I had a similar encounter at the Hollywood Bowl when Rufus Wainwright performed his tribute concert of Judy Garland music. When he introduced Lorna Luft, some twink sitting near me asked aloud, "Who is Lorna Luft?" Mine was not the only head that jerked around in shock and disgust.
Thankfully, the intermission on Sunday was short, and I could go back to enjoying the chorus. Act 2 began with "THe Circle of Life" from The Lion King, and we had chorus members throughout the audience, even in the balcony, dressed in what approximates African costume these days. The second song of the second act was quite a stunner: a medley of "Written in the Stars/The Gods of Nubia" from Aida, the musical, not the opera. The soloists were Jessay Martin and Richard Rocha, and Martin was particularly outstanding. His singing of "The Gods of Nubia" brought the house to its feet. I was almost in tears. He's that good. Why have we never heard of him before? Why doesn't someone sign him up for a recording contract?
Jennifer returned to do her big number, "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" from Dreamgirls. I think she sounds even better now than she did in the 1980s. She's lost none of her power, and she deservedly received another standing ovation. Another of my favorites came next, "Could I Leave You?" from Follies, a comic gem of a song done with great timing by the chorus. "Let's Not Waste a Moment" from Milk and Honey, a show I've never even heard of, featured a solo by Bill Bowersock, a man closer to my own age if not a bit older, and I was delighted by both the song (which they merged gently with "It Only Takes a Moment" from Hello, Dolly) and the performance.
The chorus finished the show with "First You Dream" from Steel Pier, another lovely number for which they had a fantastic arrangement. Jennifer joined them on stage for bows, and then they did an encore. And what a choice: "We Are a Family" from Dreamgirls. A perfect song to end the concert, and we were almost all standing by its finish.
I took my program and left the theater, passing a lot of men "of a certain age." There are some twinks who go to these events, but more and more I see guys my age and older at them. I suppose choral music isn't for everyone, and the younger generation doesn't seem to be all that interested in older music anyway. The advertisement for Sunday's concert read: "Gay Men Sing Showtunes. Imagine That." However, if my twink neighbors during the show are any indication, it's only when those showtunes are later performed in movies that they'll pay any attention.
The show started with "The Bitch of Living" from Spring Awakening, a show I saw last year at the Ahmanson, followed by "Life Is" from Zorba, which I have never seen. The third song of the day is one I have always loved: "We Kiss in a Shadow" from The King and I. They had a lovely arrangement of the song, and listening to all of those beautiful male voices blending together just made it even more joyous for me. If I recall correctly, Jennifer came out next and did a solo number, "Blues in the Night." All of her trademark "sounds" were a part of the performance, and I knew we were in for a real treat.
"My Junk" from Spring Awakening was next, followed by a medley of songs from South Pacific. Of course, "There Is Nothing Like a Dame" got big laughs, and "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair"--complete with shower stalls and well-built boys in towels--got a lot of sighs. "He Vas My Boyfriend" from Young Frankenstein was done with boys in leather, a rather inspired and somewhat inspiring touch for quite a few in the audience. I loved that they sang "(Not) Getting Married Today" from Company; it was a perfect political statement in this post-Prop. 8 world of California. After "Loving You" from Passion, a show I need to watch again soon, they ended the first act by dueting with Jennifer on "One Night Only" from Dreamgirls.
It was during the intermission that I had my twink problem. I purchased my tickets online the day before the performance, so I was in the balcony. I still had a great view, but one of these days I'm going to think ahead and get tickets closer to the action, so to speak. I was sitting behind a row of six or seven friends, all of them in their twenties (isn't almost everyone these days?). Two or three of them decided to stay behind during the intermission, and they were talking about how much they liked the show so far.
I was trying to read a book I had brought with me. You should always have a book handy; it helps to keep you from getting bothered too often. Still, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation. Twinks are notorious for being loud; it must be from all of those years talking on cell phones. One of them asked, "Now why is Jennifer Holliday here?" I almost tore my book in half. When his friend answered that she didn't know either, I decided to butt in and share that Jennifer was the original Effie White on Broadway when Dreamgirls opened. That's right, dear. Long, long before Jennifer Hudson wowed you in the movie theater, Jennifer Holliday was wowing them on the stage. In fact, anyone who's see both performances will tell you that Hudson borrowed deeply from Holliday's performance.
See for yourself. I'm not responsible for the picture quality, by the way. First up is Holliday's performance from the Tony Awards broadcast for 1982.
Now it's Hudson's turn. Tell me you can't see any difference between these two.
Sigh. The younger generation has no sense of history. And it doesn't seem to bother them at all, either. You might recall that I had a similar encounter at the Hollywood Bowl when Rufus Wainwright performed his tribute concert of Judy Garland music. When he introduced Lorna Luft, some twink sitting near me asked aloud, "Who is Lorna Luft?" Mine was not the only head that jerked around in shock and disgust.
Thankfully, the intermission on Sunday was short, and I could go back to enjoying the chorus. Act 2 began with "THe Circle of Life" from The Lion King, and we had chorus members throughout the audience, even in the balcony, dressed in what approximates African costume these days. The second song of the second act was quite a stunner: a medley of "Written in the Stars/The Gods of Nubia" from Aida, the musical, not the opera. The soloists were Jessay Martin and Richard Rocha, and Martin was particularly outstanding. His singing of "The Gods of Nubia" brought the house to its feet. I was almost in tears. He's that good. Why have we never heard of him before? Why doesn't someone sign him up for a recording contract?
Jennifer returned to do her big number, "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" from Dreamgirls. I think she sounds even better now than she did in the 1980s. She's lost none of her power, and she deservedly received another standing ovation. Another of my favorites came next, "Could I Leave You?" from Follies, a comic gem of a song done with great timing by the chorus. "Let's Not Waste a Moment" from Milk and Honey, a show I've never even heard of, featured a solo by Bill Bowersock, a man closer to my own age if not a bit older, and I was delighted by both the song (which they merged gently with "It Only Takes a Moment" from Hello, Dolly) and the performance.
The chorus finished the show with "First You Dream" from Steel Pier, another lovely number for which they had a fantastic arrangement. Jennifer joined them on stage for bows, and then they did an encore. And what a choice: "We Are a Family" from Dreamgirls. A perfect song to end the concert, and we were almost all standing by its finish.
I took my program and left the theater, passing a lot of men "of a certain age." There are some twinks who go to these events, but more and more I see guys my age and older at them. I suppose choral music isn't for everyone, and the younger generation doesn't seem to be all that interested in older music anyway. The advertisement for Sunday's concert read: "Gay Men Sing Showtunes. Imagine That." However, if my twink neighbors during the show are any indication, it's only when those showtunes are later performed in movies that they'll pay any attention.
Friday, July 3, 2009
An Analogy
If this apartment complex were a school, then the apartment next door would be the short bus.
Inappropriately Funny
When I drove home from work on Monday, I noticed that, during the day, while I was at work, posters and billboards for the movie Orphan had popped up all over town. It's as if the movie studio is trying to blanket the town in publicity for this film. Now I'm not saying that this is a bad movie. I haven't seen it yet, so how could I judge it? However, it bears a remarkable resemblance to the old movie The Bad Seed from the 1950s, only with a dark-haired girl this time and she's an orphan this time around (hence, the title, I suppose). I first saw the trailer for Orphan a week or so ago, and I have to admit that I laughed out loud at how ludicrous the trailer makes the movie look. Why do I suspect that the choker around her neck is somehow the key?
And the tagline? "There's something wrong with Esther." Of course, there is. But there's also something wrong with the studios who make movies this silly and the audiences who spend good money to watch such claptrap. Oy.
Enjoy.
And the tagline? "There's something wrong with Esther." Of course, there is. But there's also something wrong with the studios who make movies this silly and the audiences who spend good money to watch such claptrap. Oy.
Enjoy.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
A Lot of Little
I recently completed a task that seems almost too daunting. I watched two versions of Little Dorrit. One was the 1988 film version, originally released in two parts, as I recall, and starring Derek Jacobi. The second was a BBC miniseries that aired on Masterpiece Classic during the Charles Dickens "festival" earlier this year. The ubiquitous Matthew Macfadyen played the lead role of Arthur Clennam that had been Jacobi's part in the earlier version.
Why would simply watching a movie and a miniseries be daunting? If you have to ask that, you must never have read the Dickens novel on which it is based. It's one of his whoppers at 826 pages. The first film version clocks in at six hours; the miniseries bests it by taking almost eight full hours to watch. It took me weeks to get through both of them, thanks to my schedule.
Both versions are solid adaptations, but they emphasize different elements, of course. The 2008 miniseries, for example, picks up the plot thread about the murderous Frenchman Rigaud that had been deleted from the earlier version. Both, though, are gloriously Victorian and delightfully Dickensian. I particularly enjoyed the Clennan house in both versions. It's an architectural monstrosity, and there's a constant rain (it seems constant) of dirt pouring through it. The home, in both cases, is just about as I would have imagined it after reading the description in the novel.
Watching these films nowadays, I was struck by the amount of attention given to the character of Mr. Merdle, the so-called "man of the age." Merdle makes all of his money in speculative ventures. In other words, he's a banker/broker using other people's money to get rich. When it inevitably all falls apart, an entire nation seems to collapse with his schemes. How very remarkable of Dickens to warn us a century ahead of time about the dangers of the stock market and banking.
What I will remember most, though, are the performances. In the 1988 version, the film is anchored by the performance of the great Alec Guinness as Mr. Dorrit, the long-time resident of a debtors' prison who comes into a great fortune, only to realize that money cannot help him to erase his years in solitude. Guinness is quite the peacock in his scenes at the prison, forcing everyone to make him the center of attention he so desires to be. It was also a treat to see Joan Greenwood, Guinness' former co-star from Kind Hearts and Coronets forty years earlier, in the pivotal role of Mrs. Clennam. She's just as fussy and cranky as the character in the novel. There's even a young Miriam Margolyes playing Flora, the once-beautiful girl of Arthur's dreams, now older and not quite so thin as he remembers. Margolyes has a deft touch with comedy, but she also allows you to see the desire her character retains for a love match with Arthur.
In the newer version, Tom Courtenay is brilliant as Mr. Dorrit. He allows us, even more than Guinness does, to see the fragility of Dorrit's ego. Eddie Marsan as Pancks, that character who seems to have his hands in a bit of everything, is so much fun to watch. The snorts and sniffs he makes are spot-on with the kind of little traits Dickens liked to give to his characters. And I particularly admired Macfadyen's performance here. I think I first noticed him in the adaptation of Pride and Prejudice from a few years ago; he was, of course, Mr. Darcy. He was also in Frost/Nixon last year. However, here he is called upon to be a strong moral center to the action, perhaps even more so than Claire Foy's Amy, Little Dorrit herself, the character usually given credit for being the moral compass, and he is compelling to watch in the part. I even found him to be quite sexy, to be honest.
The BBC version is, as you might expect, more faithful to the text itself. They are masters, those folks at the BBC, in replicating the look and feel of previous eras. I've enjoyed all of the adaptations of Jane Austen's novels that they've done over the years. The film version is more intriguing, though. The first half of the film is told from the perspective of Arthur Clennam, thus making Jacobi the focus of our attention. The second half shifts to that of Amy's perspective, so we see the action through the eyes of Sarah Pickering's Little Dorrit. It's an inspired choice, just as successful as the more faithful adaptation from twenty years later.
Why would simply watching a movie and a miniseries be daunting? If you have to ask that, you must never have read the Dickens novel on which it is based. It's one of his whoppers at 826 pages. The first film version clocks in at six hours; the miniseries bests it by taking almost eight full hours to watch. It took me weeks to get through both of them, thanks to my schedule.
Both versions are solid adaptations, but they emphasize different elements, of course. The 2008 miniseries, for example, picks up the plot thread about the murderous Frenchman Rigaud that had been deleted from the earlier version. Both, though, are gloriously Victorian and delightfully Dickensian. I particularly enjoyed the Clennan house in both versions. It's an architectural monstrosity, and there's a constant rain (it seems constant) of dirt pouring through it. The home, in both cases, is just about as I would have imagined it after reading the description in the novel.
Watching these films nowadays, I was struck by the amount of attention given to the character of Mr. Merdle, the so-called "man of the age." Merdle makes all of his money in speculative ventures. In other words, he's a banker/broker using other people's money to get rich. When it inevitably all falls apart, an entire nation seems to collapse with his schemes. How very remarkable of Dickens to warn us a century ahead of time about the dangers of the stock market and banking.
What I will remember most, though, are the performances. In the 1988 version, the film is anchored by the performance of the great Alec Guinness as Mr. Dorrit, the long-time resident of a debtors' prison who comes into a great fortune, only to realize that money cannot help him to erase his years in solitude. Guinness is quite the peacock in his scenes at the prison, forcing everyone to make him the center of attention he so desires to be. It was also a treat to see Joan Greenwood, Guinness' former co-star from Kind Hearts and Coronets forty years earlier, in the pivotal role of Mrs. Clennam. She's just as fussy and cranky as the character in the novel. There's even a young Miriam Margolyes playing Flora, the once-beautiful girl of Arthur's dreams, now older and not quite so thin as he remembers. Margolyes has a deft touch with comedy, but she also allows you to see the desire her character retains for a love match with Arthur.
In the newer version, Tom Courtenay is brilliant as Mr. Dorrit. He allows us, even more than Guinness does, to see the fragility of Dorrit's ego. Eddie Marsan as Pancks, that character who seems to have his hands in a bit of everything, is so much fun to watch. The snorts and sniffs he makes are spot-on with the kind of little traits Dickens liked to give to his characters. And I particularly admired Macfadyen's performance here. I think I first noticed him in the adaptation of Pride and Prejudice from a few years ago; he was, of course, Mr. Darcy. He was also in Frost/Nixon last year. However, here he is called upon to be a strong moral center to the action, perhaps even more so than Claire Foy's Amy, Little Dorrit herself, the character usually given credit for being the moral compass, and he is compelling to watch in the part. I even found him to be quite sexy, to be honest.
The BBC version is, as you might expect, more faithful to the text itself. They are masters, those folks at the BBC, in replicating the look and feel of previous eras. I've enjoyed all of the adaptations of Jane Austen's novels that they've done over the years. The film version is more intriguing, though. The first half of the film is told from the perspective of Arthur Clennam, thus making Jacobi the focus of our attention. The second half shifts to that of Amy's perspective, so we see the action through the eyes of Sarah Pickering's Little Dorrit. It's an inspired choice, just as successful as the more faithful adaptation from twenty years later.
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