The Last Voyage

Caught this one on TCM last night, already started. A ship is going down. The captain, played by George Sanders, appears hesitant, unsure, inflexible, as he tried to deal with many decisions at once. His accent, and that of his assistant, are both English, and contrast strongly with the Yankee informality of the rest of the uniformed crew. Edmond O'Brien plays the chief engineer (Walsh), for whom saving his men becomes paramount as the tragedy deepens. Robert Stack plays Cliff Henderson, whose wife, Laurie (Dorothy Malone), is trapped by a fallen beam.

Woody Strode plays Hank Lawson, a crew member who does help Henderson rescue his trapped wife. Eventually, once his men are safe, so does Walsh. They cut the steel, so Mrs. Henderson can escape, just in time. Lawson walks around shirtless the entire time, and he is quite well built.

Strode was a decathlete and football star who went on to become a pioneering black American film actor. He was nominated for a Golden Globe award for best supporting actor for his role in Spartacus in 1960.

I was struck by the film for a couple of reasons: it seemed almost the template for future disaster films; and Strode had a dignified role, and some body. For 1960, a good film, but only to a certain extent. The ;last line of dialogue spoken is by Henderson, who says, as Lawson is about to be pulled into a lifeboat, says, now this is a man I want to help. Wooden, stiff; could have had a little more emotion.

The narrator was Charles Laughton, not a favorite. Dorothy Malone, who had played the Acme Book Shop Proprietress in The Big Sleep, and would go on to lay in Peyton Place, was in her bleached blonde phase already. I remember, some years ago, realizing who she was on watching the Bogart film, again, and being astounded by the difference between her looks in 1946 and 20 years later.

Up Periscope

Saved Friday night. James Garner plays what amounts to a Navy SEAL sort, who has been assigned to slip into a Japanese-held island from which the enemy is transmitting, take pictures of their code, and slip out. He is transported on a submarine commanded by a hard-bitten (yet something of a sensitive soul of a) captain played by Edmond O'Brien. Everyone smokes. The medic is played by Ed Byrnes (Cookie of 77 Sunset Strip). The film works.

Love me or leave me

Cast: Doris Day, James Cagney, Cameron Mitchell, Robert Keith, Tom Tully
Director: Charles Vidor
Writer: Daniel Fuchs and Isobel Lennart
Running Time: 122 min.
Genre: Drama, Musical
Rating: No Rating
Synopsis: One of the gutsiest movie musicals of the 1950s, Love Me or Leave Me is the true story of 1930s torch-singer Ruth Etting, here played by Doris Day. While working in a dime-a-dance joint, Ruth is discovered by Chicago racketeer Martin The Gimp Snyder (fascinatingly played with nary a redeeming quality by James Cagney). The smitten Snyder exerts pressure on his show-biz connections, and before long Ruth is a star of nightclubs, stage and films. Ruth continues to string Snyder along to get ahead, but she can't help falling in love with musician Johnny Alderman (Cameron Mitchell). After sinking his fortune into a nightclub for Ruth's benefit, Snyder is rather understandably put out when he finds her in the arms of Alderman. Snyder shoots the musician (but not fatally) and is carted away to prison. Upon his release, Snyder finds that Ruth is still in love with Alderman; he is mollified by her act of largesse in keeping her promise to perform in his nightclub at a fraction of her normal salary. No one comes off particularly nobly in Love Me or Leave Me, even though the still-living Ruth Etting, Martin Snyder and Johnny Alderman were offered full script approval. The fact that we are seeing flesh-and-blood opportunists rather than the usual sugary-sweet MGM musical stick figures naturally makes for a more powerful film. In his autobiography, James Cagney had nothing but praise for his co-star Doris Day, and bemoaned the fact that she would soon turn her back on dramatic roles to star in a series of fluffy domestic comedies.~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

I enjoyed it. This review captures the film quite well. Doris Day pulled off the songs; her voice had a little, even more than little, resonance and vibrato to it (a couple of times I thought of Sara Vaughn), not the usual limited range and sweetness of so many other musicals.

Tremé

Watched last two episodes last night. Enjoyable. Not great, but certainly excellent for television.

TR

Originally broadcast on PBS television series, the American Experience. One incongruity: David McCollough is a talking head in the program, not its narrator. Yet nothing can take away from Theodore Roosevelt. In turn maddening and inspiring, he is truly bigger than life. Some of his views are appalling, yet he is the president who started to conserve the national resources of this nation: in a day when developers were planning to "improve" the Grand Canyon, he declared it a national treasure. He busted trusts, yet was an unrepentant capitalist.

The night of the gun

Came across this book by reading a story on NPR about David Carr, media critic at the NY Times: The News Diet Of A Media Omnivore. Came across it by reading an NPR tweet. Kirkus: A brilliantly written, brutally honest memoir.

General of the Army

After reading the H.W. Brands biography of FDR, I read Partners in Command, by Mark Perry. I was left with a feeling of not knowing enough about George Marshall, and sought out a biography. Ed Cray's book does justice to the man.

George Marshall was both ambitious and selfless, something of a contradiction of terms and characteristics. From and early age he wanted to be a soldier, and served in the military for nearly six decades. Command of fighting soldiers is what he always sought, and was nearly always denied, for he turned out to have an uncanny talent for administration and planning. Pershing became his mentor and model, Fox Conner his teacher. From them he learned how to command and how to devise military strategy. FDR would grow to rely on him, to such a degree that he could not abide letting him go to serve as field commander.

After serving as Chief of Staff during WW 2, GCM went to China on President Truman's behalf, to try and get the Nationalists and Communists to compromise and form a government of national unity. That would become the basis for McCarthy and others of his ilk to charge Marshall with treason, an idea so palpably absurd that only a fanatic could entertain its veracity. The China Lobby could and would not understand that it was Chaing Kai Shek who "lost" China, and found scapegoats in Truman and Marshall.

GCM also served as Secretary of State and Secretary of Defense. It was his misfortune to have to deal with Douglas MacArthur for most of his life and career. Yet Marshall understood that MacArthur needed to be handled gingerly, and always figured out how to do so.

Cray does a magisterial job of tracing GCM's life and career. The book is also very well edited. It reads easily, for one interested in a sweep of 20th century US history.

how Black is Black?

Gene Robinson is one of my favorite talking heads. When Chris Matthews lets him talk (how would Matthews and Schaap fare in a talkathon?), Robinson is incisive, perceptive and sharp. This is a fascinating book; I did read a couple of chapters, but this is not a good time for me to read this: I am in a history mood. It is worth reading, and I intend to get back to it.

Fair game

Didn't like it. Stopped watching. Lots of mumbling.

Into the storm

Followup to The gathering storm, with Alberty Finney as Winston and Vanessa Redgrave as Clementine. Brendan Gleeson overplays his role; then again, the script looks for nigh every Churchill cliché, and tries to stuff them all in. Len Cariou plays an unconvincing FDR, who comes off as second banana. Now, this is a film about Churchill, but FDR was never second banana to him. Janet McTeer was a revelation; her Clemmie was as good as imaginable, strong, not at all overplayed, convincing.

FDR

An American Experience film, nicely done.

A bridge too far

Film version of Cornelius Ryan's book. Cast includes Dirk Bogarde, James Caan, Michael Caine, Sean Connery, and Edward Fox, as well as Elliot Gould, Laurence Olivier and Liv U. Not a happy story, but a good war movie.

Erotic Muse

Bawdy

Band Wagon

Great dancing, nice singing, thin plot, and Oscar Levant all in one film. A classic

Terrible Terry Allen

Having come across this book, and then across Allen's name, I thought this would be a wonderful book to read. Alas, it wasn't. I stopped, having skipped many pages. I found the writing style disagreeable.

Man in the middle

Not quite sure why I picked out this film, but I have always liked Robert Mitchum. Here he plays an army lifer who gets called to a joint American-British theater during the Second World War (keeping with the theme of my currently reading H.W. Brands's biography of FDR, Traitor to his class), and is asked to provide a credible defense for a GI who has murdered a Brit in cold blood in front of numerous witnesses. Mitchum pays Lt. Col. Barney Adams; he has been summoned by General Kempton (played by another favorite, Barry Sullivan), a friend's of his father (an off-screen senior Adams). Col. Adams reluctantly accepts the assignment, and then pursues all leads, in order to provide a vigorous defense.

Adams refuses to accept what is obviously a coverup. Along the way he meets a nurse, Kate Davray (played by France Nuyen), who provides him with evidence he is, at first, reluctant to accept. What he is not reluctant to do is pursue Nurse Davray, in a 1963 sort of way.

There is much cigarette smoking, much alcohol drinking. Adams defiantly pursues a vigorous defense that even his client, played with a slightly too-heavy hand that almost descends to schtick by Keenan Wynn. Mitchum does a deft job of acting, and fully extends the role. Trevor Howard underplays a British psychiatrist who has been shunted to dispensing medicines, exiled from his true work. Cynical, Major Kensington comes to the rescue of Adams, whose every attempt to get at the truth is frustrated by roadblocks thrown in his way even by his sponsor, General Kempton.

Adams finally accepts Nurse Davray's evidence, and, along with Kensington's corroborating evidence, wins the case. Nicely done.

House of Bamboo

This all started with a column in a New Yorker issue in August, Critic's Notebook: Trouble in Mind. To wit: The most exciting spasm of violence in Samuel Fuller's wide-screen, color-splashed 1955 film noir, "House of Bamboo", is one that doesn't happen. It involves an American crime boss (Robert Ryan) who runs a syndicate in Tokyo, a hard-nosed expat (Robert Stack) who has recently joined the gang and arouses suspicion, and a billiard ball. In the first Hollywood feature to be shot on location in postwar Japan, Fuller transports to an exoticized setting his usual concern: the conflict between the moral repugnance of violence and its visual and visceral thrills. The movie is famous for its gunplay - a bathtub shooting that's sordidly funny, a police ambush of silhouettes seen through the rice paper screen, and a climactic shootout on a flying-saucer-like carousel perched on a rooftop high above the city. But for one terrifying moment, captured in a single tense shot and embodied in Ryan's seething, panterish self-control, Fuller makes his fierce sympathies ambiguous even as he imagines gore beyond what Hollywood mores allowed - and hints that he enjoyed it. The writer was Richard Brody.

In watching the commentary provided by two critics, several names jumped out:

The street with no name

Pickup on South Street

I shot Jesse James

Cinemascope

The film itself was interesting. It begins with a narration, which itself is unusual: a film, not a documentary, begins as if it were a documentary. It is post-WW2 Japan. A supply train chugs along, and stops for a peasant struggling to move his oxen off the tracks. In quick order, it turns out he is not a peasant, for he chokes the engineer who comes out to yell at him. Other train personnel are similarly mugged. And the lone US soldier is shot, and killed. A peasant woman hears the shot, rushes over, sees the dead body, and screams into the camera.

Robert Stack lands in Yokohama, takes a taxi to Tokyo, and chases after Mariko, the sweetheart of his buddy (who in prior shots is seen on an operating table being interrogated by US Army personnel, who find the picture of Mariko in his wallet; he confesses that they were married, but that it is a secret). Stack's character (Spanier) begins to intimidate pachinko managers, shaking them down for protection money. At the second joint he is ambushed by men working for Ryan's character (Sandy). He is thrown through rice paper screens, and beat up a bit. In short order, he joins the gang, and becomes a favorite of the boss. Such favoritism rankles Sandy's long-standing second-in-command, and tension is born, to manifest itself in various ways (including the above-mentioned bathtub scene).

Capote

Hoffman is magnificent as Capote, capturing every mannerism, and becoming the man. Capote was not exactly a nice person, but certainly was ambitious, and his impact can not be minimized.

How many?

A character, a cop, in the film, says that the only thing he can figure out is that Mahowny can be reconfigured to How Many. Mahowny is a bank officer who has devised the perfect technique to bankroll his gambling addiction: syphon money from accounts he has signatory power over, both a big-money daughter of a big-money client, and a fictitious customer. It is a curious psychological story, but the action is slow. Hoffman does a wonderful job, and Driver wears a funky wig.

I make a living

After watching To Kill a Mockingbird, produced by Alan J. Pakula, I decided to look for other films in which he was involved. One was Up the down staircase. Searching on that title led me to this wonder of humanity: When Bel Kaufman sits you down on her sofa and asks, “Are you comfortable?” the right answer, she reminds you, requires a Yiddish inflection, a shrug and the words, “I make a living.” Kevin Kline's character in Definitely Maybe  (Professor Hampton Roth) uses the same line.

Ms. Kaufman’s hard work and the watchful eye of a demanding father led to a master’s degree in literature from Columbia and teaching jobs at a series of public high schools. Her 20-year odyssey became the springboard out of her grandfather’s shadow. In 1965, she published “Up the Down Staircase,” a novel about a new teacher very much like Ms. Kaufman who struggles to keep up her spirits in a school crowded with more than a few hopeful but ornery students and where memo-happy principals issue rules like not walking “up the down staircase.”

Groovy, man

Groovy? I don't know. Nothing that I have seen quite captures what I remember as the spirit of the 60s. Maybe it is my memory that is at fault. These days, it would be no surprise.

The movie seems kinda hokey and cliché-ridden, but the actor who played Michael Lang was spot-on. Fun, anyway.

To kill a mockingbird

After reading The Help, I thought if this work. I did not recall reading it, and, if I had, did not remember it. I decided to read the book, and finish it, before watching the film (which I did recall, dimly).

The book is considered a modern American classic. It is taught in high school. It is the story of the Finch family, Atticus and his son Jem and daughter Scout. Atticus is a lawyer in a small Alabam town, and is appointed by the local judge to defend a black man who stands accussed of raping a local white woman. Jem and Scout are inquisitive children who are treated kindly and somehwat indulgently by their father, whom they call Atticus. Their maid, or housekeeper, Calpurnia, is also involved in their upbringing: she is not afraid or reluctant to discipline them, including administering a swat in the leg when she feels it is appropriate.

Atticus is well respected in town. He is tolerant, sociable, and widowed. In the book his sister considers him too indulgent of his children, and pushes herself into their lives to improve what she considers some shortcomings. Primary among these are Scout's behavior; Jean Louise is a tomboy who never wears dresses, always wears overalls, fights, and otherwise does not behave as a proper girl should.

Aunt Alexandra does not appear in the film. In fact, the film dispenses with much detail, as films have to, in the interest of brevity. Her absence changes the story, yet the film is a wonderful representzation of the film. The relationships between Atticus and his kids, the trial, and relationships between Atticus and some townspeople come through. Of course, in the film there are many more relationships, and much richer detail. But a 2-hour film can only include so much detail.

Gregory Peck does a beautiful job of acting. Deservedly, he won an Oscar for his portrayal of Atticus Finch. He happens to be one of my favorite actors of all time, so I can not quibble much with his role. One weakness is that he has no Southern accent, made all the more glaring bu the rather thick accents of the kids (Jem, Scout and their friend Dill). But the basic character of Atticus Finch comes through Peck's acting: tolerant, reflective, decent.

A key scene, in which Atticus is seated in front of the jailhouse where Tom Robinson is awaiting trail, is depicted quite nicely in the film. Heck Tate, the local sheriff, warns Atticus that a group of local men is headed for the jail, looking to take Tom out and lynch him. Atticus prevents them from taking Tom, but the situation is diffused when Scout talks to Mister Cunningham about his son, her schoolmate.

The word nigger is used in the book, as it was, surely, in 1935 Alabama. At one juncture Scout tells Atticus that she has fought in school, something he has forbidden her to do, because a classmate call her father a nigger lover. She tells Atticus so, and he tells Scout to not use the word, then explains to her why he is defending a Negro.

I found the lack of use of the word nigger to be a detriment in The Help. Surely the word was used in 1962 Mississppi, even by genteel white folks. Its absence, it seemed to me, spoke more to the political correctness of our current day, than to the character of 1962 Jackson. Nonetheless, both books address a similar social milieu: the role of black servants in white families. Of course, Mockingbird delves into a deeper topic, racism, and Help does not go quite as deep. It, too, considers racism, of course.

Mockingbird is not an easy read. At first, I found it difficult to approach. Yet I did get into it, and now, having ended it, and having seen the film, I am astounded by its radicalism. It was published in 1960.

Shutter Island

Disappointing.

White hunter black heart

powerful, intelligent, and subtly moving, a fascinating meditation on masculinity and the insecurities ... is the blurb accompanying a Rotten Tomtoes entry; critics on the site gave it an 88% favorable rating, while th epublic gave it 54%. I am not sure I'd give it 54, but, perhaps yes. The story is interesting: the making of The African Queen, or, perhaps the alomost-not making; the story focuses on John Ford and his poreoccupation with hunting. Marisa Berrenson portrays Katherine Hepburn quite nicely; the actors who portray Bogart and Bacall are terrible. Eastwood's acting is wooden; the script is terrible. 2 stars.

Last holiday

Perhaps three stars, out of five. One is purely for Latifah's work; she makes the movie work. I chose it based on Joe Morgenstern's review of it (which accompanied a review of ): If Alec Guinness knew he had been replaced by Queen Latifah in a remake of "Last Holiday," he'd roll over in his grave and try to get out in order to see her. That seemed sufficient praise for getting the movie for a Friday night. I agreed then, and do so now, as well, that Queen Latifah is a formidable presence, an actress of charm and reliable tact who has survived any number of flops. But this one just makes it over the bar. once again, Queen Latifah survives some remarkably clumsy filmmaking. More than survives; she manages to prevail.

An accidental sportswriter

Lipsyte, Robert. (2011). An accidental sportswriter: a memoir. NY: Ecco.

A Times reporter and columnist, as well as a YA author, Lipsyte covered sports across the board: boxing (Clay victory over Liston in 1962 he identifies as a high point of his career, and perhaps its launching point), baseball, car racing. He met Mantle and DiMaggio, Bob Costas and many others across a very long career. An iconoclast, deatched from those sports he covered, he was criticized by Costas, among others. The book promises to be more than it is; it feels rushed. A good, though disappointing, read.

Jimi Hendrix turns eighty

If the poor man were alive, as Ralph Kiner would say, he'd turn over in his grave. What a piece of garbage. I am annoyed with myself for reading it.

American history

Three books about different facets of U.S. history: Whiskey rebellion in the 1790s; Founding Fathers as gardeners; Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives at end of XIXth century.

The Whiskey Rebellion : George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and the frontier rebels who challenged America's newfound sovereignty by William Hogeland. Very detailed, painstakingly so. Did not read easily. Alas, Alexander Hamilton comes off looking none too well: ruthless, ambitious, power hungry, he was not beyond manipulation and using even his benefactor, George Washington. His great nemesis (one of many), Thomas Jefferson (himself no angel), seems to have disliked him intensely and opposed him at every possible turn. James Madison emerges as an enigma. GW himself looks fine; another instance of how lucky the young nation to have him, and not anyone else, in a position of power. Stopped at page 197.

Founding gardeners : the revolutionary generation, nature, and the shaping of the American nation . by Andrea Wulf. What a wonderful and unique idea. Indeed, Washington, Madison, Jefferson and Adams were devoted gardeners. The first three, Virginians all, were plantation owners, slave owners; Adams owned and worked his own small farm. Yet all shared a passion for trees and plants and shrubs. and all wanted to make gardens uniquely American, different than the English gardens popular in their day. The book drags. Wuld gives a historical narrative, to put in context the efforts and wonts of the Gardeners, yet the narrative sputters and stalls. Stopped at page 142.

Mr. Speaker! : the life and times of Thomas B. Reed, the man who broke the filibuster.by James Grant. Reed is one of the obscure figures in US history that actually played a significant role therein, during his time. Teddy Roosevelt was, at one point, his ardent supporter and admirer, before catapulting above Grant (and most everyone else) to become the accidental president. The book is far too detailed, reads stiff, and was a challenge to finish. As I was reading all three concurrently, I decided to finish the one that I was the furthest along, and had most interest, and, by default this was it.

Lost

Several days ago I came across an item in The Atlantic, The 14 biggest ideas of the year, and saw Kirn's name; on a whim, an instinct, I hyperlinked, as it were, looked for books by him, and found this one. What he wrote seemed insightful, and I figured, assumed, his book would be similarly so. Now that I have finished the book, I do not have the same opinion.

Kirn, Walter. (2009). Lost in the meritocracy: the undereducation of an overachiever. New York: Doubleday.

The theme of the book is how Kirn hustled the system: he wasn't so much book smart as street smart. Well, not exactly street, for this was no urban warrior. What he says he learned was how to butter up people and achieve high status in the world of the academy. So he aced his SAT, got into Princeton, and did so by telling people what they wanted to hear, using what used to be called $5 words (would they now be $10, $50, $100? adjusting for inflation and hedge funds), and irreducibly won laurels and star status.

Published the year Kirn turned 47, it quotes people and produces fine details of events that transpired 25, 30, even 43 years earlier. Along the way, he must have memorized enough to produce a readable book that purports to tell it as it was.

I am disappointed. In myself, for wasting my time. He has not stopped hustling. I am one of his latest dupes.

Matinee

Fun movie to watch, many familiar faces. Ebert gave it three and a half stars. "Matinee," a delightful comedy and one of the most charming movies in a long time, takes place exactly at a moment when that innocence may have ended.

Crossing Over

Interesting, a little flawed. Ebert gives it two and a half stars; about right. Yes, the film is "flawed" -- that prissy film critic's complaint. If you're looking for plausibility and resist manipulation, you'll object to it. But sometimes movies are intriguing, despite their faults, and you want to keep on watching. This one is like that.

Increment

Ignatius, David. (2009). The increment. New York: W.W. Norton.

A nuclear scientist with a conscientious objection to the regime ruling Iran pursuing a nuclear weapon contacts the CIA through its website. A virtual walkin, or VW, he comes to the attention of Harry Pappas, an agent with his own conscience who wants to stop the Administration from hurtling toward imposing an embargo on, and perhaps bombing, Iran.
     Ignatius writes a believable tale, an enjoyable what if?

One review in the Washington Post offers a compliment: It may lack fireworks, but it bears the hard weight of both political and personal history and recognizes the seriousness of what might come next.
One in the Guardian is a bit more reticent: well paced and suspenseful, and the attention to local detail (downtown Tehran is rendered as vividly as top-level CIA briefings) convincing enough to excuse the occasional stereotype.

Rewind?

Jack Black's films either work, or they bomb. This one didn't work.

Ebert: It's the kind of amusing film you can wait to see on DVD. I wonder if it will come out on VHS?

Wait only if you have time to waste. I'm sorry I wasted mine.

Social network

I don't get it: the movie was lauded, Ebert included (he gave it 4 stars), and I didn't much like it. Yes, the protagonist is a spark of a social revolution, amoral, very smart, and the movie captures his development of a computerized environment that has become a social phenomenon – as well as his absolute lack of scruples, loyalty, or values. Yes, this is a modern phenomenon, and the film captures it. Yet in the end the film is an old-fashioned morality tale told in a modern way, and not much more. Fine enough – certainly better than a lot of other stuff. (See above).

Big Rig

Interesting look at truckers, who indeed move much of what we use in every-day life: produce, manufactured goods, cars, gasoline, packaged goods, food of all sorts. Some of the views expressed are as questionable as one will hear anywhere. Almost all seem to have the same accent; does that come from hearing the same music, eating in the same places?

Honeydripper

A John Sayles work. Worked nicely. Stacey Keach played a racist sheriff who was not an ogre, yet enough of a son-of-a-bitch to seem real. Ebert writes about it with praise.

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080117/PEOPLE/648662905/1023

Silver City

Cooper fairly well executes a W. Bush satire; he excels at such roles. His character's name is Pilager (as in pillage). Ebert (who gave the film 3½ stars): The movie centers on the campaign of Dickie Pilager (Chris Cooper), who is running for governor of Colorado with the backing of his father (Michael Murphy), the state's senior senator. Dickie is the creature of industrial interests who want to roll back pollution controls and penalties, but as the movie opens, he's dressed like an L.L. Bean model as he stands in front of a lake and repeats, or tries to repeat, platitudes about the environment. Cooper deliberately makes him sound as much like George II as possible.

George the 2nd; cute. Anyway ... Pillager's campaign manager is Chuck Raven (get it? Raven)  (Richard Dreyfuss), a Karl Rove type who tells him what to say and how to say it. There's not always time to explain why to say it. 

The best of the supporting characters is Madeleine Pilager, Dickie's renegade sister, played by Daryl Hannah with audacious boldness. She likes to shock, she likes to upset people, she detests Dickie, and she provides an unexpected connection between the private eye and the campaign manager. Those connections beneath the surface, between people whose lives in theory should not cross, is the organizing principle of Sayles' screenplay; one of the reasons his film is more sad than indignant is that it recognizes how people may be ideologically opposed and yet share unworthy common interests.

I didn't much care for the character; thought her superfluous.

Sayles' wisdom of linking a murder mystery to a political satire seems questionable at first, until we see how Sayles uses it, and why. One of his strengths as a writer-director is his willingness to allow uncertainties into his plots. A Sayles movie is not a well-oiled machine rolling inexorably toward its conclusion, but a series of dashes in various directions, as if the plot is trying to find a way to escape a preordained conclusion.

Precisely so: the movie seems to meander, to make parenthetical remarks, to take turns where a straightaway is expected.


The movie's strength, then, is not in its outrage, but in its cynicism and resignation. There is something honest and a little brave about the way Sayles refuses to provide closure at the end of his movie. Virtue is not rewarded, crime is not punished, morality lies outside the rules of the game, and because the system is rotten, no one who plays in it can be entirely untouched. Some characters are better than others, some are not positively bad, but their options are limited, and their will is fading. Thackeray described Vanity Fair as "a novel without a hero." Sayles has made this film in the same spirit -- so much so, that I'm reminded of the title of another Victorian novel, The Way We Live Now.

It is not a typical Hollywood film, for sure, which is a strength, and, concurrently, a weakness. Rotten Tomatoes critics gave it 48%, and its audience 33%, reminding me of H.L. Mencken aphorism.

For what?

What an unadulterated piece of mierda. I hate myself in the morning for having watched it.

Justice for all

Newton, Jim. (2006). Justice for all : Earl Warren and the nation he made. New York: Riverhead Books.

A superb book about a superb American. Earl Warren was California personified: born in LA, he grew up in Bakersfield, his father a union man who suffered at the hands of capital. EW grew up wanting to go to law school, and did, attending Berkeley's law school after graduating from it. Inspired by Hiram Johnson, he entered politics, and rose from Alameda County assistant DA to California DA, then California governor.

EW supported Japanese internment, and could never bring himself to admit it a mistake. Otherwise, he carved a middle-of-the-road stance in most, almost all, political issues. He supported education, imposed a gasoline tax to help develop a top-tier road system, and fought entrenched interests.

Deweys' VP candidate in 1948, he was California's favorite son in the 1952 convention (which Taft entered as a favorite; Taft opposed aid to Britain during WW II, and voted against NATO). Whether Eisenhower made a deal with Warren for California's votes at the convention is unclear; what is clear is the bad blood between Warren and Nixon.

“We have a traitor in our delegation. It’s Nixon.” (248)

Warren accepted Eisenhower's offer to become Solicitor General, contingent on his getting the first Supreme Court vacancy. When Chief Justice Vinson died, Warren pressed for the spot; Eisenhower resisted, but gave in to Warren. He would long after say his two worst mistakes were to appoint Warren and Brennan. As is so often the case, I utterly disagree: those were two of the best acts he ever undertook as President.

Newton's narrative flows easily, and for a reader who enjoys history, this is a superb book.

The brothers Bloom

Ebert gave it 2½ stars, and that is just about right.

At a certain point, we think we're in on the moves of the con, and then we think we're not, and then we're not sure, and then we're wrong, and then we're right, and then we're wrong again, and we're entertained up to another certain point, and then we vote with Bloom: The game gets old. Or is it Stephen who finds that out? Bloom complains, "I'm tired of living a scripted life." We're tired on his behalf. And on our own.

 The problem with the movie is that the cons have too many encores and curtain calls. We tire of being (rhymes with perked) off. When an exercise seems to continue for its own sake, it should sense it has lost its audience, take a bow and sit down. And even then "The Brothers Bloom" has another twist that might actually be moving, if we weren't by this time so paranoid. As George Burns once said, "Sincerity is everything. If you can fake that, you've got it made." A splendid statement, and I know it applies to this movie, but I'm not quite sure how.

Brick Lane

A young Blangadeshi is sent to England to marry a man older than her, and leaves behind her sister, an irascible father, and memories of her mother drowning herself, and of happy times playing with her sister.

In London she lives with her two daughters and distant husband in an immense block apartment building that houses immigrants and others on the margins of society. After her husband quits his job in a fit of pique motivated by a perceived insult to his character and intelligence, she buys a sewing machine and begins making garments and money.

She lives for the letters her sister writes of her romantic adventures. As she reads such letters, Nazneen is transported back to her youth and her home.

Karim delivers her the raw materials and picks up her finished work is also Bangladeshi. Slowly a friendship develops between them. Her husband's indifference (his only tenderness, if it can be called that, is to take her hand in bed, before climbing on her and discharging his desire) pushes her away, and Karim's tenderness slowly seduces her.

When 9/11 happens the slow radicalization of Asian youth is propelled by the racist backlash of whites screaming invective and threatening violence ("go home, Paki" they scream, but never think that perhaps the colonialism of the homeland is, at least, partly responsible for the immigration of those they loathe).

Subtlety in storytelling renders this film weak; it could use a shot of adrenaline. Yet it is a beautiful film that tells an important and compelling story.

Sherlock Holmes

A modern take on an all-time great. Overdone. Downey did a great accent, but it seemed, somehow, off. McAdams was expendable, her acting mediocre. Critics in Rotten Tomatoes gave it 70%, the public 81%, which makes sense: it is aimed at the popular palette.

Scorpions

Feldman, Noah. (2010). Scorpions: the battles and triumphs of FDR's great Supreme Court justices. New York : Twelve.

A magnificent history of the four great Justices that FDR appointed to the Supreme Court. The narrative moves along, and centers on the four; to a significant degree FDR is a supporting actor. Frankfurter, a self-designated heir to Brandeis and Holmes, was appointed from Harvard Law, from where he had already conducted a correspondence with FDR. Starting out a liberal, he carved out a philosophy of judicial restraint (curious how history twists and turns), only to wind up his career as a conservative. Black was a Senator, a liberal, a former KKK member. Douglas was a Westerner, a prodigy, who had been appointed to the SEC on Joe Kennedy's recommendation; he never gave up his political ambitions, not until Truman beat him out for the VP nomination in 1944. Jackson was the last Justice appointed to not have graduated from law school. He carved out a judicial philosophy based on common sense and moderation. The 4 came from different places, too: FF from Austria; HB from Alabama; WOD from Washington; RJ from upstate NY.

Wonderful book.

One curiosity is how libraries classify it: various libraries have it at 347.7326 (Civil procedure and courts); some at 923.47 (general biography range of numbers); one as 920

Complete dog parenting for baby boomers and beyond

Oy vay.

'Tis autumn

In 1991 filmmaker Raymond De Felitta heard a singer named Jackie Paris on a Los Angeles radio station and began a search that first yielded the fact that Paris had died in 1977. In 2004 De Felitta discovered Paris was alive and making a comeback in a New York City nightclub. This film explores the life of the jazz singer along with an exploration into what it is to live the life of an artist in its least glamorous aspects. Includes interviews with jazz legends including Billy Taylor, James Moody, Anne Marie Moss, Mark Murphy, George Wein, and others.

Outsider Pictures

Paris had a distinctive voice. A tenor, it was pleasant, yet, for me, it lacked something, some quality. One person in the film said that once someone explained Paris's lack of success by saying he doesn't sound like anyone. A valid point. We are so inclined to say that a writer, a musician, a singer, resembles another, as a way of qualifying (and, often, pigeonholing) the talent, that someone who can not be so qualified can suffer thereby.

He also played guitar and tap-danced. Of the latter, there is no recording extant; there was a recording of Paris playing guitar in a trio, and singing: he reminded me a lot of Tiny Grimes (see above).

That he didn't make fame is strange. The film explored and tried to answer that. Perhaps his temper and his ego got in the way, though he would hardly be the first musician to have an outsize ego and temper. Peggy Lee tried to propel his career. Ella liked him. But, clearly, someone didn't.

Abyssinian chronicles

Isegawa, Moses. (2000). Abyssinian chronicles. New York: Knopf.

Found this book by accident:  I was looking for books by Japanese author Kazuo Ishiguro (who actually wrote The remains of the day, a book that became a Merchant and Ivory film), and saw this one; intrigued, I took it. Started to read it, and did consider that it would open up into a wonderful book. But it never did. Stopped at page 70. Perhaps I read one too many works of fiction in a row. Whatever the case, I moved on.

A reviewer was ambivalent about the book.

Last wish

Lewis, J. Patrick. (2005). Please bury me in the library. Orlando: Harcourt.

Saw this in a display case.

Compañero

After Alberto Granado died on 5 March, I watched the film Motorcycle Diaries. Granado and Guevara had taken the journey, and I remembered having watched the DVD some time back. That led me to watching Benicio del Toro in Che. Part one, the Argentine Partie un, l'Argentin  and Che. Part two, guerrilla Partie deux, guérilla.

That led me to wanting to read Che's biography. Two were available: John Lee Anderson's Che Guevara : a revolutionary life,which I needed to interloan, and this one, which was on the shelf. I took the latter one from the shelf, and interloaned the former.

I was flummoxed in reading Castañeda's work. He used the phrase fifteen minutes of fame referring to Guevara (whose fame has lasted far longer than 15 minutes, and to whom the phrase does not begin to fit), and referred to him as our man. I could not believe he would use such language, and was put off. Anderson's book arrived a few days later, I switched to it, and dropped Castañeda's work.

Rudo y Cursi

From the rural banana plantation where they play soccer for the village team to the big city stadiums, two brothers have become rivals and battle each other on opposing sides. When a talent scout gets stranded in their tiny town, brothers Beto and Tato are discovered. They are whisked away to Mexico City to play for the big leagues where they quickly achieve fame. Beto is nicknamed 'Rudo' for his hotheaded goalkeeper style and Tato is called 'Cursi' for his peculiar scoring technique. Success leads to excess. Rudo descends into a quagmire of gambling debt and drug abuse. Cursi is distracted by beautiful women and a second career as a pop singer. Having come so far, will the siblings remember their original goal to build a home for their mother?

 Fine enough film. The 6.7 rating on Imdb.com seems about right.

2 others

Unaccustomed earth, by Jhumpa Lahiri. I just could not get into the stories in Part Two: Hema and Kaushik. Tried, twice.

Book of Salt - didn't like it much

Possessed

After reading her piece about Turkish soccer fans in the New Yorker, I went looking by this book by Elif Batuman. tried it, but it is rather abstruse (or, perhaps, it was me).

Che: Part two

A straightforward telling of Ernesto Guevara's last year, from the last few days in Cuba, already in disguise as an OEA (OAS) bureaucrat, to his assassination in Bolivia. Nowhere as dramatic as Part one, almost a documentary, it lacks impact. Benicio del Toro does a masterful job of portraying el Che, but ... for the loyal base, this is a great film. Yet, even so, I thought it lesser than Part One. There was no mention of Congo, for instance.

Che: Part One (The Argentine)

(2008). Nicely done. Familiar story, yet riveting.

Bridget Jones's Diary

(2001). Cute, enjoyable.

Australia

(2008). Fair. Rotten Tomatoes ratings are 55% and 69%, and that about covers it.

Motorcycle Diaries

Watched it in honor, in remembrance, of Alberto Granado, who passed away on 6 March. Subtitled were hard-coded, as it were, and could not be hidden. In fact, they helped, for some of the Argentinian spoken was difficult to comprehend. A beautiful movie, very well done.

These days communism is out of favor, and it is disdained as a failed ideology that caused nothing but harm and destruction. Yet taking a fresh look at one who became a communist, and embodies romanticism and idealism in his iconic figure is a reminder that Ernesto Guevara became a communist as a result of seeing misery and exploitation in his native continent, and searching for a solution. Ché remains frozen in time, his face an icon that is used to sell beer as much as to represent a romantic longing.


Ernesto was an idealist, an adventurer, and a doctor. One semester before graduating medical school he took a trip through western South America with his compañero Alberto Granado. What they saw changed them. This film depicts the motorcycle trip they took from Argentina, through Chile, Bolivia, Peru, Colombia and Venezuela. It is inspired film work.

I am David

On the other hand, I found this film easier to watch than Pajamas. And Ebert panned it. I agree with his assessment that He has awfully good luck: Along the way, he meets mostly nice people who do what they can to help him, and there's an enormous coincidence just when it's most needed. Benji encounters more hazards on his travels than this kid. Yet, I liked it. Joan Lowright has a small but significant role (and I was astounded at how similar some of her lines and gestures were to those in Mrs. Palfrey).