a thaumaturgical compendium

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

Our seven-year-old guest was literally on the edge of his seat, watching The Princess Bride for the first time, and seeing Inigo Montoya fulfill his lifelong pursuit to avenge the death of his father at the hyperdactyl hand of Count Rugen.

“This is an excellent scene,” our young guest said precociously.

When we considered movies we had on hand that were PG-rated—his requirement—we came up with two, this one and Flushed Away. Afterward, he said both were good, but he much preferred Princess Bride; why? “Obviously, more chaos.” Was a bit puzzled by this, but his mom let us know that “obviously” and “chaos” were two of his favorite words lately.

Watching Princess Bride with a kid makes you recognize that it has some messages that were common in films of the period that were intended for younger audiences, but not so common today. While the arch villain is left by the hero to live with his own infamy, Montoya seems in many ways to be more heroic in his quest and in its completion. The theme—call it Count of Monte Cristo light—seems largely absent from youth literature today, and perhaps even to my own surprise, I find that unfortunate.

There is something in Montoya’s righteous indignation, his passion for justice, his sense of honor, that is comforting and wholesome. The idea that vengeance is always wrong, an idea that runs through much of modern Christianity, seems misplaced to me, just as misplaced as assuming that revenge is always just. French moralist Joseph Joubert wrote, “Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.” (He also wrote “Children have more need of models than of critics.”) The standard escape these days—played so often as to be a cliché—is that the hero captures the villain and allows him to live, only dispatching him when the villain makes a last effort to kill the hero when his back is turned. This is present somewhat in Princess Bride I suppose; If Montoya was not seemingly mortally wounded early in the scene, I’m not sure it would play as just.

I realize that there is something in my core personality that sympathizes with Montoya, and I suspect this was installed in me at about my guest’s age. Seven is traditionally referred to as the “age of reason” among Catholics, when people start becoming responsible for the morality of their actions. Seven is also a pivotal age for many developmental psychologists; Piaget marks this as the onset of “concrete operational thinking” and the close of egocentric thought.

It seems somehow retrograde and old-testament, these ideas of vengeance and honor. But I’ve always liked those imperfect characters who nonetheless were honorable in their own way. I’ll take Montoya over Wesley, Solo over Skywalker, Batman over Superman. I am pleased, therefore, that a pervading sense of the avenger is present in the first book I am reading to my unborn son, Cory Doctorow’s new Little Brother. We are going through it slowly, a few chapters a week, and of course I like the way it introduces a hackerish ethics to issues of surveillance, but I also like its revival of the vow of retribution. No spoilers please—I hope Doctorow does not cave to more recent sensibilities, and dampen the release (or noble tragedy) of retribution.

That’s the question Richard Corliss, Time film critic, asks. He reports on the New York Film Critics Circle’s picks this year, and laments that some of the top grossing films this year did not make the list. He complains that films like No Country for Old Men, There Will Be Blood, and Away From Her, movies that few actually saw, led the list. That this made him “realize that we critics may give these awards to the winners, but we give them for ourselves. In fact, we’re essentially passing notes to one another, admiring our connoisseurship at the risk of ignoring the vast audience that sees movies and the smaller one that reads us.”

He goes on to ask rhetorically whether The Diving Bell and the Butterfly or The Lives of Others will win out, and then goes on to suggest that these “obscure” films make readers restless. The thing is, these are obscure only because they show up in the art house theaters and not on the main screens. I agree that Ratatouille and Enchanted were very well made, entertaining films. But not everybody gets an Oscar just for making good cinema.

I understand that Time has a particular anti-intellectual stance on some issues, but I am convinced that the main reason No Country doesn’t pull in huge numbers of dollars is that distributors decide in advance how much money it is going to make and where. Critics play an important role in pushing people to see good movies, even when those movies don’t have a huge buy in television commercials and “soft” advertising (making rounds on the Daily Show, Letterman, etc.). The Oscars tend to do this as well; movies that are runaway award winners at the Oscars are now re-released and actually draw audiences. In other words, critics perform a correcting function for the industry.

Instead of complaining that critics like movies that most people have never heard of, perhaps we should be complaining about an industry that relentlessly pushes Transformers, while relatively ignoring a little gem like Juno. In sum, I don’t mind film critics’ connoisseur orientation toward movies. Why should people who love movies dumb down their opinions to match a public that uses movies as distraction? The industry already serves (and serves to inculcate) a movie-going audience that doesn’t want very much from their films; critics form a counterweight to that, even when they can be accused of their own groupthink.

I’ve always joked that my aim in academia is getting a walk-on part in a Woody Allan film, like McLuhan in Annie Hall. No luck on that yet, but Derek sent along this trailer for Truth in Numbers:

Yes that’s me at the beginning of the trailer, in pretty good company, even if I still wince at the sound of my own voice on tape. When I saw this today, I figured that if they were going to make me a μceleb, the least I could do was donate a little—and I do mean little—cash to making the film. That means I have now invested in two motion pictures! (I was also one of the early Swarm of Angels contributors.)

I have been trying, desperately, to write over the last few weeks, but have gotten out to see two movies: Bourne Ultimatum and Rocket Science. I don’t have time to do full reviews of them, but since I enjoyed both a lot, I’ll do hundred-word versions.

Bourne Ultimatum: With so many action movies lately it seems like it would be hard to do, for example, a car chase that manages to be even marginally believable and hasn’t all been done before, but the film manages it it. It also manages, as with the earlier movies in the trilogy, to do fights that are reasonably realistic. Hollywood (cf Casino Royale) has finally figured out that people who have been trained to fight do things other than throw punches. The pace is exhilarating, and as long as you don’t expect too much in the way of character development, and don’t get too motion sick from the moving camera, this is a must-see.

Rocket Science: You won’t know if you’ll like this until you see the trailer, but, unfortunately, the trailer manages to capture some of the best moments in the film. I hate it when they do that! The rest of the movie is also excellent, and it holds everything together well, but if you are smart, you will take my advice and just go and see it. Chances are, you already know if you like this kind of indy, quirky, type of flick (Dollhouse, Life Aquatic, Little Miss Sunshine), and if you do, you should make your way out to see this.

In other words, after a somewhat lackluster year, these are both very nice summer films.

Went to see Michael Moore’s most recent documentary, Sicko, today. I enjoyed the film very much and strongly encourage folks to go out and see it. I was pleasantly surprised by it in a number of ways. In particular, there was some very inspiring stuff in there about democracy and self-rule. You probably have already decided whether you want to like a Moore movie before seeing it, most likely because someone has told you either to like it or not to. My relationship to Moore’s style is complicated, very much love/hate, and so I will tell you to go see it, but leave it up to you whether or not to like it.

In classic teacher/drama geek style, I’ll start with the good. Moore knows how to tell a story. He knows how to draw out its pathos, how to draw the viewers attention, how to exemplify and surprise. He’s the guy who is the life of the party, but is also a little annoying. You know, he’s loud, and a little obnoxious, likes the sound of his own voice, but he seems like a pretty decent guy and you find it hard to dislike him too much.

I detest the sloganistic shallowness of much of Moore’s work. I defy anyone to find a cogent argument in Bowling for Columbine. I agree that it is an entertaining and informing film, but he goes for the jugular, and doesn’t bother making his way up to the frontal cortex. Lots of pathos, light on the logos. Fahrenheit 9/11 follows much the same pattern. A number of critics have come forth to say that Sicko is his most “balanced” film.

I think any examination of the film would suggest it is far from balanced. Perhaps what they mean is that we see a bit less of Moore and his histrionics. Of course, much of his oeuvre has been in the gonzo/Punked! style of uncovering the secret underbelly of… whatever. And when that underbelly isn’t that secret, he still makes it seem so. As such, I’m torn with most of his films. I generally agree with his perspective on political issues, but I hate that he comes to represent the “Voice of the Liberal,” especially because the view presented is so often obviously partisan. With the exception of the flotilla to Gitmo—which seems to be a bit of a nod to his earlier approach—this film comes together more tightly, and far less obnoxiously. In large part, I think that’s because Moore surrenders more of his frame to others’ faces; the audience spontaneously applauded several of Tony Benn’s comments.

But balanced? Hardly. The viewer leaves the theater convinced that universal health care is the obvious choice, that the government should do our laundry for us (yes, really) and that the only reason it hasn’t happened yet is that Big Med is paying off our politicians. I think that’s probably a big part of the story, and I think that it’s vital that we do create some form of universal health coverage in the US. But in order for that to happen, I think people need to understand that there is a trade-off. I recently saw an interview with four anonymous physicians in, I think, New York magazine. Their argument was that unless you are half of a pair of Siamese twins, or otherwise need some miracle cure—in other words, if you are part of 99.9% of the population—you would be better served by a government-sponsored universal health care system than our current mess. Although I am not a fan of big government, I have to agree strongly. The question we are left with is how to do that.

And here’s were we come to the problem with the film. It’s affecting, no doubt: not a dry eye in the house. It’s inspiring, and it’s the kind of inspiration that is hard to come by because it goes to the root of who we are as individuals and as a people. But it is also shallow. Nowhere does Moore talk to anyone who opposes universal health care. Nowhere does he talk about some of the real obstacles to changing our current system, or the difficulties Canada, France, and the UK have had in managing their own health care systems. Of course, Moore’s approach to such people would make it hard to find anyone willing to discuss it with him, but I’m left wanting to hear the arguments against, if only to know how he would refute them.

In the end, if enough people go to see this film, it will raise it to the level of an issue for the presidential campaign, and may force whoever is elected to make some substantial change in how health care is handled in the US. In the best of worlds, I think the film could do that. As a film, it’s really quite good—entertaining and engaging. But there remains some part of me that gives that praise grudgingly, knowing that it is more screed than cogent argument.

Today the block is once again surrounded by trailers: they’re going to be spending the better part of the next few weeks filming Titanic II in my building. It’s funny, I spent a lot of time in southern California, and rarely saw movie stars, and in New York they come to my house.

I also kind of get why it is that people become attached to their buildings in New York. I’ve lived in a lot of places, and although some had a kind of a backstory—the former Navy barracks in Seattle, the former crack house in Buffalo—most lacked any kind of character. This is a 1929 building; not all that old by New York standards, but you do get a bit of the feeling of that history.

We don’t have doormen any more, since the doors are electric (leading to all sorts of interesting problems for our conservative Jewish residents), but we have “concierges.” Frank, our oldest concierge, retired last week after working here for 60 years. When he left, he gave a short talk, the text of which was left in the lobby. As part of that talk, he reminisced about some of the people who had lived in the building: actors, writers, musicians. It seems some people have been living here since the building was built, and are probably paying rent that seemed steep in the late 1940s. Some of the folks in the building are mythically old—Yoda old.

As for the rest, it’s the mix you might expect on the Upper West Side. Several professors and lawyers, as well as some writers. Next door is an opera teacher, and on weekends we hear arias. Sometimes these are in conflict with the musicals being practiced in two of our other neighbors’ apartments. As far as I know, we’re the only apartment on our floor without a piano.

It’s a bit strange getting used to living in the city. We lived for a short while on Capitol Hill in Seattle, a block from the main strip, and at the time, it felt pretty urban. This so trumps that. When I took the job up in Connecticut, I made a pitch for living half-way between, so that Jamie and I could split commutes. In practice, Jamie already had the long commute—in Japan she spent even longer on the train than I spend on my back-and-forth—and so now it’s my turn. Besides, this is the sort of place that we knew we liked right away, and has, over the last two years (!), started to feel familiar and, well, homey.

At this point, I think it would be hard to get us to move anywhere in the US besides New York City, back to California, or over to Hawaii.

Here are some movies I’ve seen, and what I thought of them. The short version: it’s been a good year for action flicks, and some of the films released over the last few weeks have been top notch.

• Babel

Critics: Unpredictable and complex.
Me: Had its moments, could be edited into a decent film. Too bad it wasn’t. What’s with the Golden Globe nods?

• Borat: CLOAFMBGNOK

Critics: Base, but endlessly amusing.
Me: Not! One note, and not a particularly great one. Amusing in places, but easily forgettable.

• Cars

Critics: Makes NASCAR cute.
Me: Would love to like this, but didn’t. Boring.

• Casino Royale

Critics: Best Bond since Thunderball.
Me: Best Bond ever. And thank god for fight scenes that look reasonably real, mated with “le parkour” that stretches belief. Ditch the Texas Holdem’.

• Children of Men

Critics: “...may be something of a bummer, but its the kind of glorious bummer that lifts you to the rafters.” – Manohla Dargis, New York Times
Me: This is one of those pieces of fiction that really allows for us to more easily see reality. It’s hard to see the treatment of refugees here and not be reminded of our own xenophobia, and the acceptance of authoritarianism as part of our everyday existence. But more importantly, this is a really well shot, engaging chase film.

• Clerks II

Critics: As good, and as bad, as the original.
Me: This is like a lot of the action movies on this list: but the dialog is the action sequence. Some of these are really good, and some are not so great. The plot is just there as a conveyance for the dialog. Same can be said of the characters. Still a fun movie to watch, but not Chasing Amy.

• Crank

Critics: Mindless entertainment.
Me: But delivers well. Had low expectations for this one, and was pleasantly surprised. Great action B-movie.

• Curse of the Golden Flower

Critics: Not sure whether this is intended to be taken seriously—but probably not
Me: Beautiful looking, and the story was nearly there, but not quite.

• The Departed

Critics: Best Scorsese since Goodfellas.
Me: Nicely put-together little crime story. Feels a little too rote in places, but charming nonetheless.

• The Devil Wears Prada

Critics: Sharp and funny.
Me: Soulless and superficial—satire failed to come through. Guess you had to have read the book.

• District B13

Critics: Adrenaline rush, though it doesn’t make sense.
Me: Excellent heart-in-your throat action flick.

• Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift

Critics: Random races chained together: blah.
Me: Random races chained together. OK. Needed less dialogue, and there wasn’t much as it was.

• Fearless

Critics: Corny, predictable, but well done.
Me: Outstanding: Jet Li at his best. Not the perfect MA film, but right up there.

• Grizzly Man

Critics: “A brilliant portrait of adventure, activism, obsession and potential madness that ranks among helmer Werner Herzog’s strongest work.” – Scott Foundas, and he’s not alone.
Me: Just grizzly. Not watchable, despite the bears. Herzog should do Hasselhoff next.

• The Illusionist

Critics: Pleasant, but not too deep.
Me: Liked how it fit together. A little claustrophobic in places, but good storytelling. Giamatti is excellent, as is Norton.

• An Inconvenient Truth

Critics: Amazingly powerful talk.
Me: Wow. Only wish I could put together something this engaging in my own talks. Just excellent, and well captured on film.

• The Lake House

Critics: Way too much disbelief in need of suspending.
Me: See Nacho Libre. (No, not literally.)

• Little Miss Sunshine

Critics: Sweet and scrappy little film.
Me: Really funny and heartbreaking at the same time. Maybe the best of the year.

• Lucky Number Slevin

Critics: Too smart for its own good and not very believable.
Me: Thought this came together really well. Hard-boiled in the reflexive sort of way. Charming.

• Marie Antoinette

Critics: They walked out at Cannes, US critics were kinder.
Me: You’re only as good as your last film. What’s with the sneakers? What a waste of a set.

• Mission Impossible III

Critics: Highly improbable.
Me: Why are you doing that. It doesn’t make sense. Quit it.

• My Super Ex-Girlfriend

Critics: Uma is hot, but film is formulaic.
Me: Uma is hot, at least it’s better than Superman Returns.

• Nacho Libre

Critics: Campy, but not in a good way.
Me: Bad enough to not watch on an airplane.

• Nanny McPhee

Critics: Mixed reviews: some said it was too “mechanical.”
Me: Surely no Lemony Snicket but a nice little film.

• Pan’s Labyrinth

Critics: “t’s not only one of the great fantasy pictures but one of the great end-of-childhood elegies.” -Stephanie Zacharek, Salon
Me: Really very good film. I approve. Shows that the worst horrors are not in our imaginations. Though I never though fauns were quite so into hierarchies and rules.

• Pirates of the Caribbean: DMC

Critics: As good as the first one.
Me: Not.

• The Prestige

Critics: Absorbing and twisty.
Me: What twist? Can you telegraph it any more(?). Not Nolan’s best, I think. It had a few moments, but I’m ready for the next Batman. Second best 19th century magician rivals movie this year. Worth it to see Bowie as Tesla, though.

• The Protector

Critics: “The elephants featured in The Protector have more personality than the star, which is a real problem.” – Jeff Vice
Me: If you are already a Jaa fan, or if you don’t know Jaa, but liked Jet Li, Jackie Chan, or Bruce Lee, this is the movie to see. Not much plot, but does a great job at connecting some virtuosi fight scenes.

• Pursuit of Happyness

Critics: Earnest but unremarkable.
Me: Wanted to like this film, and it had some moments. Big fan of Smith, but it was pretty saccharine and easily forgettable.

• The Queen

Critics: Adored it.
Me: Thought it was slow and boring, though the acting was good, and the composition was good, and the Corgis were cute, it wasn’t enough to get me interested.

• A Scanner Darkly

Critics: True to Dick.
Me: Made me motion sick. Less than good.

• Scoop

Critics: Doesn’t really come together.
Me: Amazingly forgettable; I almost forgot to include it here.

• Stranger Than Fiction

Critics: Mostly positive, some say it is over-self-important.
Me: Was worried because it was so over-advertised, but really liked this a lot. Wish they had gone with the “French ending” (by cutting the last 5-10 minutes) and there were some more interesting ways they could have taken the ending without lopping it off. But it was very good.

• Superman Returns

Critics: As good as Spiderman 2 and Batman Begins.
Me: Wish he hadn’t.

• Thank you for smoking

Critics: Smart satire.
Me: Agreed.

• Who Killed the Electric Car?

Critics: Exciting story of the auto industry.
Me: Feels unbalanced in places, but still tells an undertold story very well.

• X-Men: The Last Stand

Critics: Talky. Overkill. Flashy.
Me: It’s really OK, if this is the last one, after-credits epilogue notwithstanding.

• V for Vendetta

Critics: Beautiful nonsense.
Me: The visuals really are striking, and it is an entertaining film. Not the best, but looking forward to seeing it again.

• Volver

Critics: “You do not want to miss this one.” – Peter Travers, Rolling Stone
Me: I like Almodovar’s other films, but really enjoyed this one especially. Never thought much of Cruz until this movie.