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Inception: Reality in the Word

Inception: Reality in the Word

I saw Chris Nolan’s Inception last night, and while it had some weak points, I enjoyed it. It reminded me a bit of Steven Soderbergh’s interpretation ofSolaris. Both films deal with the protagonist’s regret and the projection of that regret into their lost loves. While the planet of Solaris is the catalyst for Kelvin’s image of Rheya, Cobb’s projection of Mal haunts his subconscious. Both Kelvin and Cobb are tortured by the suicide of their wives, and both films are about their attempt to hold onto the past. In this way, they create their own reality that seems to trap them.

Read more at Big Jelly.

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Rights

Rights

We watched Michael Moore’s Capitalism: A Love Story last night. It was what I expected. That’s why I like Michael Moore, I think. He is anti-establishment, iconoclastic, and just doesn’t take shit. This makes him hated by the right and provides a necessary counterpoint to the dominance of the radical right media, like Fox News. Here are some of my thoughts about Moore’s latest film.

Capitalism is the unquestioned, de facto economic system of the United States. It makes propaganda out of the belief that “all men are created equal.” By selling this idea to typical American citizens, it maintains the status quo: 5% of Americans have more wealth than the other 95% put together. Capitalists pay lip service to the American dream of wealth and prosperity — that, if you work hard enough, one day you just might make it, too. And the only way to make it is to embrace the system that has produced the world’s wealthiest people: capitalism.

Capitalism has turned America into a plutocracy, or rule by the wealthy. If you have any doubt, just look to the recent Supreme court decision that grants corporations even more power to influence the politics of this country. This debate is called “corporate personhood” and turns my stomach.

Moore illustrates how the capitalist system is amoral at best, and immoral in its routine practices. It upholds wealth over welfare. Its practices are counter-Christian, though ironically capitalism’s strongest proponents claim to be the most devout. Moore’s narrative even upholds the Catholic church as anti-capitalist, without going into their 2000 history of oppression. Maybe Bill Maher already made that film? Capitalism, like religion, is a mass delusion that helps only a few while hurting the majority.

Moore suggests that democracy might be a better economic model, or at least a more equitable one. One where the CEO makes the same money as the assembly line worker. Where all decisions are made my everyone that they will affect. Where all workers are treated the same, since they have the same stakes in the success or failure of the company. All are human beings with equal rights.

This sounds good, and just might work in economics where it has failed in politics. We Americans, perhaps as a result of capitalism, love money. The almighty dollar seems to be the measure of all success in this country. Therefore, when money’s on the line, people might pay more attention than they would when voting on some more abstract idea. Money is real. Politics are, well, not for most Americans. Democracy only works when citizens are engaged and educated about the issues and potential consequences of those issues on their everyday lives. If anything, much of America lives in the corporate fantasy world (PDF) of Fox News and MSNBC. No wonder democracy seems to be failing.

The best part of Moore’s film was the end, when he shows President Roosevelt’s last State of the Union address. FDR proposes the second bill of rights, perhaps the most progressive political statement I have heard from the twentieth century, and it was in 1944. It’s worth repeating in its entirety:

It is our duty now to begin to lay the plans and determine the strategy for the winning of a lasting peace and the establishment of an American standard of living higher than ever before known. We cannot be content, no matter how high that general standard of living may be, if some fraction of our people — whether it be one-third or one-fifth or one-tenth — is ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-housed, and insecure.

This Republic had its beginning, and grew to its present strength, under the protection of certain inalienable political rights—among them the right of free speech, free press, free worship, trial by jury, freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures. They were our rights to life and liberty.

As our nation has grown in size and stature, however—as our industrial economy expanded—these political rights proved inadequate to assure us equality in the pursuit of happiness.

We have come to a clear realization of the fact that true individual freedom cannot exist without economic security and independence. “Necessitous men are not free men.” People who are hungry and out of a job are the stuff of which dictatorships are made.

In our day these economic truths have become accepted as self-evident. We have accepted, so to speak, a second Bill of Rights under which a new basis of security and prosperity can be established for all—regardless of station, race, or creed.

Among these are:

  • The right to a useful and remunerative job in the industries or shops or farms or mines of the nation;
  • The right to earn enough to provide adequate food and clothing and recreation;
  • The right of every farmer to raise and sell his products at a return which will give him and his family a decent living;
  • The right of every businessman, large and small, to trade in an atmosphere of freedom from unfair competition and domination by monopolies at home or abroad;
  • The right of every family to a decent home;
  • The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health;
  • The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment;
  • The right to a good education.

All of these rights spell security. And after this war is won we must be prepared to move forward, in the implementation of these rights, to new goals of human happiness and well-being.

America’s own rightful place in the world depends in large part upon how fully these and similar rights have been carried into practice for our citizens.

Can you imagine if Obama suggested such a thing today? Glenn Beck‘s head just might explode all over his chalk board. These rights are antithetical to capitalism, a system that has one goal: profit at any cost.

At one point, Moore implicitly asks the question: what’s wrong with socialism? Why does it seem to be so demonized in the media? In many ways, it’s what the defeated countries of the second World War received: constitutions that made the government on the side of the people, not of the corporations. Instead, we the people continue to support that which dehumanizes us and even profits from our deaths. When will it stop?

The film suggests that the election of Obama could be a turning point, but there remains doubt. I, for one, am dubious though hopeful. Can Obama really go against the corporate interests that helped get him elected? So far, it seems not.

Americans, what’s wrong with socially progressive political and economic policies?

I liked Moore’s closing statement, and I’m paraphrasing: I refuse to live in a country that allows such a flagrant disregard for the lives of others. And I’m not going anywhere. Can’t we do something?

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Who Are Those Guys?

Who Are Those Guys?

The middle of George Roy Hill’s famous Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is essentially an extended chase scene. The authorities — whoever they might be, the US government, the Union Pacific Railroad, or the increasingly powerful banks — have gotten fed up with Butch and Sundance robbing their trains, so they set up the infamous Hole in the Wall Gang. In the middle of a train robbery, a sinister locomotive approaches. A group of riders jet out of a boxcar and begin chasing Butch and Sundance. Experts at alluding the law, the duo try all their tricks: sending Butch’s horse off in the opposite direction as a decoy, riding through riverbeds, traveling over rock on foot. Nothing can shake their pursuers, prompting Butch and Sundance to ask after each foiled attempt to elude them: “Who are those guys?”

Indeed, this question seems even more appropriate as one that currently haunts the American psyche after 9/11/2001. While the dust was still settling from the collapse of the twin towers, ordinary Americans expressed their outrage and consternation by calling for blood — revenge — a face to represent the evil. “Who are those guys?” Who are those for whom life means nothing? After 2001 terrorist attack on American soil, I watched as many of those around me went nuts. Flag waving zealots marched in the streets calling for revenge — they didn’t care who we bombed — they just wanted someone to pay. The Bush Administration heard their pleas, and we have been paying for decisions made on this irrational bloodlust ever since, and we’ll be paying for it for years to come. As will the innocents of Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, and other countries who will feel the fallout of these wars.

Who are those guys? has invaded the national consciousness. George W. Bush was distracted by questions of national, now “Homeland,” security, and he made us feel his distraction. He seems to have done more for the terrorists than 9/11 ever did. His administration was preoccupied with terrorism’s very real threat to ‘Merica. Every speech was loaded with language crafted not to assuage American fears, but to heighten them. What better way to keep power and justify tighter government control and waning freedom for citizens? Anyone who challenged his administration was labeled anti-American, an elitist, a traitor. The American intelligentsia was silenced, and anyone who was different was vociferously challenged, silenced, ostracized, and sometimes even killed: homosexuals, Arab-looking Americans, Muslims, French wine.

‘Merica is now a nation of paranoids and xenophobes, shutting down their borders, distrustful of anything that doesn’t sound ‘Merican, self-righteous and proud of their ignorance and simplicity, and scared shitless about even what may live next door. Even though ‘Mericans are much more likely to die from drowning in their bathtubs than from from a terrorist attack, many of them can’t get the paranoiac who are those guys? out of their heads.

One solution is more guns. Not only did gun sales increase after 9/11, but also after Bush left office. Perhaps it’s more appropriate to say when Obama was elected. Some articles suggest buyers worry that their rights will change under this “socialist” president. I think it has more to do with the same irrational fear I’ve been writing about: Who is that guy? Isn’t that the very question that Republicans employed to seed fear and doubt about Obama? He’s to be feared: his whole name is Barack Hussein Obama; he’s a Muslim; he’s not an American citizen; he’s an elitist; he’s educated; he’s not white. Not one of us.

Guns seem to symbolize ‘Merican fear, irrationality, and paranoia. Yet, they also are integral to our past and the building of our nation. Since the bad guys — those who want to take away our life, liberty, and private property — have guns, the good guys must have guns. And the good guys can have guns because they are . . . well, good!

Ironically, Butch and Sundance were heroes in Hill’s film, yet real-life outlaws. Robert Leroy Parker (“Butch Cassidy”) and Harry Longabaugh (“The Sandance Kid”) performed the longest string of successful train and bank robberies in American and Old West history with the other members of the “Wild Bunch.” While known for being non-violent, the Wild Bunch were responsible for several murders during their careers as thieves and outlaws. If caught in the states, they certainly would have been hanged for their crimes. Yet, in Hill’s film, Butch and Sundance are heroes — how could Newman and Redford be anything else? Look at these handsome Americans. Who would doubt it? We know exactly who they are.

Maybe we need to turn the question on ourselves, instead of looking outward. Perhaps we Americans need to look in the mirror and ask ourselves: who are these guys?

See part one: “Gun Fight.”
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Gun Fight

Gun Fight

When I was a kid, Dad and I used to watch movies together. Our favorites were James Bond flicks, but we also got in the occasional western, like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and Silverado. I mean, what American male doesn’t love a good western? What could be more of an archetypical symbol of America than a showdown at noon, an epic chase across brutally beautiful desert terrain, or the bad guy getting what was coming to him?

I think this is why I like Lawrence Kasdan’s Silverado so much: it combines all of the mythic elements of the Western along with an excellent cast and a subtle script (for a Western). I distinctly remember when Kevin Kline’s character Paden has finally had enough, and he straps on his six-shooter to confront the corrupt and murderous Sheriff Cobb, played by Brian Dennehy. It might not be high noon, but the town of Silverado sits by itself on a dusty plain, and Cobb awaits Paden with the heaviness of fate. The moment is tense, as it always is during a final confrontation, but Paden’s resolve can no longer be influenced by be Cobb’s smooth talk. Both men stand their ground in the street, only the dust and tumbleweeds dare move, until two shots ring out in quick succession, and Cobb crumbles to the ground under Paden’s precise shot. The evil has been purged from Silverado, and now its simple folks can begin to build their dreams under the protection of Paden, the new sheriff.

Another aspect of our hero Paden is that he only reluctantly picks up a gun. He used to run with Cobb and his boys, but was left behind, a victim of his own moral choice. Paden served time, and decided to walk the straight and narrow. He is found at the beginning of the film by Emmett, Scott Glenn’s character, who is the main protagonist of the film. When Emmett finds Paden, the latter has been left with literally nothing, a victim of a robbery who has been left to die in the desert. Paden is soft-spoken, mysterious, and sympathetic. He is soon swept up again by Cobb, but ultimately makes the decision to stand by his convictions and not be swayed by Cobb’s empty promises. He must finally act decisively, if he is able to bring peace to himself and those he cares about. Violence, in Silverado, is an unfortunate final recourse for our heroes.

Perhaps Kasdan’s 1985 Western is America grown up — an America where the brutal Western no longer has a place in a more mature cultural consciousness? The Western as a genre is not much seen after the mid-eighties, except with a couple of notable exceptions: the Young Guns (1988 and 1990) two-film franchise and Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven (1992). There are undoubtedly more. However, these films have the same message: that while we might long for the familiar nostalgia of the old West, it is gone — something relegated to a raw and violent past. At the end of Young Guns II, Billy the Kid survives, but he is an old, dying man, left alone and forgotten in the lands where he was once a young and ruthless outlaw. Eastwood’s William “Billy” Munny has also seen better days, and after he is forced to take revenge, he, too, rides into obscurity. Both Billys are now too old and broken to need or want their guns.

This is the real point of this entry: gun fights. The topic of gun ownership makes this country stupid. Why have Westerns made a comeback when I thought they had peacefully and gracefully faded out over twenty years ago? I think it has something to do with an American paranoia about the evil that lurks in a vague band of bandits that could ride into town at any moment, shooting up the place, stealing the woman, and leaving the town a shambles. “We put every ounce of our money and dreams into this town, Mister, and these bandits have taken it all.” While we long for a mysterious stranger to rescue us from the faceless evil, no one steps forward out of the dust.

Perhaps it’s because we are our own villains today? We are so scared of the vague terror that we are trying to bring back the old west: if everyone has a gun in their holster, this fact alone will keep the peace. A peace under fear. Talk of the Nation had a show about handguns on Tuesday, and I really couldn’t believe what I was listening to. Some pro-gun dude was suggesting that if we allowed guns on university campuses, then incidents like Virginia Tech would be avoidable? I have heard this argument before, but it still astounds me.

Apparently in Georgia, you can get a permit — or maybe anyone can do it — to carry a handgun in a holster on your belt. I have seen this a few times, mostly by older, outspoken white dudes. Once was at a car dealership while I was waiting on my car, and the other time was in-line at Kroger. Both of these guys were scruffy, displayed the obvious accoutrements of the mythic cowboy, and didn’t mind being offensive. What was I going to do? Say something to upset them?

And this is just my point: how can we have a frank and critical discussion of ideas in a room full of guns? Especially today, when most Americans seem to be on-edge and unwilling to thoughtfully consider the validity of their convictions.

Is our final recourse like that of Paden? Will we all be forced to pick up our guns?

Continue to part two: “Who Are Those Guys?”
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Zemeckis’ Beowulf

I couldn’t help but be struck by the interesting re-telling of the Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf, by Robert Zemeckis, Neil Gaiman, and Roger Avary. They kept the basic story intact, but added a twist with Grendel’s mother and more subtle characters. In fact, the theme of fatherhood in the time of heroes was nicely problematized: the screenplay dealt with the responsibility of the patriarch in a time of transition. The film (as is the original epic) is placed between the brutal time of heroes, when nations were trying to establish themselves, and the new belief offered by the “Christ God.”

Beowulf is a Christ-like figure both in this revision and the original epic, sacrificing himself for the good of the people but not before, as Gilgamesh would say, his name was stamped on bricks. Yet, while he did vanquish Grendel in the film, he gave in to temptation as that young hero (you have to see the film). His attempt to atone for his sin as an older king does free his people, but brings down his son, and by implication, his way of life as well. With the death of Beowulf and his son (you have to se the film), the age of heroes comes to a close. A new king has been crowned and the old ones must pass into legend.

I’m reminded of the end of John Boorman’s Excalibur: Arthur kills his son Mordred, but sacrifices himself in the battle. Both Kings (Beowulf and Arthur) are left without heirs, so their reins must come to an end with their respective deaths. Both kings, too, are laid to rest on boats, but while Arthur is destined for Avalon and perhaps a return some day, Beowulf sinks beneath the waves as his ship becomes his pyre. Boorman and Zemeckis both tell the stories of the end of epochs — not the demise of patriarchy, but a change — perhaps with one superstitution being replaced with another.

Zemeckis’ film deals with the guilt of the father. The human women are chattel, as one would expect in an epic, but they are sympathetic and strong, demanding respect from the heroes. (There is a scene where one of Beowulf’s men — who we know is married — tries to have his way with a girl. She says “no” and struggles out of his grasp, delivering a final slap across his face before leaving. Cool.) Grendel’s mother is the most interesting: she is the demon of a heroic age (I can’t help but think of Circe, the sirens, Helen, Eve, Medea, Dido…) that has a magical influence over even powerful men. She desires a son, too, like a king — an heir to her kingdom. She represents disorder to the patirarchs Beowulf and Hrothgar, but she also has a potency that neither can resist.

The end of the film is fascinating. It’s a transition, but one that’s bittersweet and ambiguous. I didn’t think I’d like this film very much; I’m not a fan of the go-motion animation. However, this one is provocative and exciting, both in a viscreal and a thoughtful way.

It makes me want to go read Beowulf again.

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ellie-arroway-263×108

Nobody’s Hero: They Should Have Sent a Poet

To begin this summer’s section of World Literature I, the class and I brainstormed about just what we mean when we call someone a “hero.” As they suggested ideas, I wrote them on the board, and the whole class discussed each trait. We agreed that the idea of a hero changes with the needs of a culture and his/her literary representation — that while there might be universal characteristics of a hero, each particular, historical culture has its own ideas of what a hero should be. This is called the heroic ideal. For example, the epic hero will not be the same as the tragic hero, but they will, perhaps, share similar characteristics that might seem universal. After of brief discussion, we watched Robert Zemeckis’ 1997 film Contact, a film I’ve discussed in relation to the epic before. I then asked the students to write their first blog entries on Ellie Arroway as a hero. What follows are a few notes from the class as well as my own brief commentary of how Contact‘s protagonist meets each. The class’ characteristics of hero are bolded.

One of the first characteristics of a hero that the class suggested is bravery. Indeed, bravery seems to be a universal characteristic of the hero. At on point, Palmer Joss asks Ellie why she wants to be the one to take the machine seat. She cannot answer explicitly, and Palmer tells her that she is the bravest person he has ever met. She relies, “Or the nuttiest.” Ellie’s desire to see what’s on the other side represents her community’s current need to see what’s beyond their world. It’s interesting that Contact came out in 1997, at the height of the X-Files‘ assertion that “the truth is out there.”

Part of Ellie’s bravery, and perhaps that of the hero in general, is her unselfishness. This might also suggest her sacrifice, her pioneering action, her strength, her ability to survive, and her endurance. Indeed, we want our heros to do what we cannot: these deeds are what make them heroic. Ellie’s endurance, her drive in the face of adversity to pursue what it is she believes in is admirable. Perhaps this also suggests that heros need to be idealistic and a bit impractical. If Ellie had listened to Drumlin, she would never have heard the signal from Vega. If she let witch hunters like Kitz wear her down, she would invalidate her integrity and be less heroic. When is the last time our culture lionized a sell-out?

In fact, Ellie became a scapegoat in the end during a scene reminiscent of the McCarthy hearings of the 1950s. Senator Kitz tries his best to force Ellie to renounce her testimony that she ever traveled to a distant part of the galaxy. His relentless questioning and citing of tangible fact had Ellie doubting her own experiences by appealing to her reason as a scientist. Since she had no proof of her journey — something science relies upon — Kitz suggests that she imagined the whole thing. Her refusal to be swayed even by hard scientific evidence suggests her strength and endurance, and also shows how she grows as a character.

Heros must be human; therefore, they must have flaws. Ellie’s flaw was her inability to conceive of answers that can be proven by science. Ellie’s experience with the machine and her journey to Vega teaches her about faith, in belief that transcends the empirical.

Some negative characteristics were also suggested: pursuit of fame, pride, and arrogance. The former has been a characteristic of many heroic traditions. The Greeks believed is a grim afterlife, so any living would have to be done while alive: that was the time of the hero, as Achilles teaches Odysseus in Book 11 of the Odyssey. By proving one’s skills, one could achieve fame, an immortality in the verses of the poet. While this sort of fame was important to the Greeks and others, our culture often views fame as a hollow pursuit, one that is essentially the desire for money and power. An indeed, Ellie seems to want this as well: when her idealism is stomped on at every turn by the opportunist Drumlin, her disappointment is always evident. Her pride and drive also keep her from making an enduring connection with Palmer Joss and the rest of her community. These traits show that a hero is often a leader, but that leadership can be a lonely and isolating place.

Finally, heroes are often mythic and archetypal. Here is where the hero enters the realm of the poet and takes on a life beyond the physical. Myths are stories of profound truths of a culture. Though they might not be “real” in a sense that they actually happened, their significance paradoxically is in the ideals, answers, and guidance that they provide for a culture. Facts, here, become irrelevant, or at least superseded by the story. This is a difficult lesson for the scientist to learn, and is perhaps a lesson for our age.

As our culture takes its first “small moves” into space, we might find that we need our heroes again. When myths of the previous age encounter the realities of the present day, we find ourselves searching for new truths — new stories to help guide us into the next age, perhaps with that notion that the truth is out there. What will we do when we realize that we are not alone in the universe? We will need the heroes and the poets again. The deeds of the hero mean nothing if there’s not a poet to record them. Pay attention to this relationship as you read the selections this semester. Often the poet and the hero are one-in-the-same. This relationship suggests the continued importance of our own literary traditions and the heroic efforts of those that try to keep them alive.

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Beowulf Movie

Via /.: Robert Zemeckis, who directed Forrest Gump, Contact, and Cast Away among others, will film the epic Beowulf. I wonder how this one will compare to Beowulf and Grendel, already in post-production? I have never heard of Sturla Gunnarsson, but I have always like Zemekis’ films, and his writers for this project include Neil Gaiman and Roger Avary (Pulp Fiction). Exciting news. Both should be interesting, and hopefully less of a disappointment than Troy. Robert, just don’t cast Tom Hanks as Beowulf. Please.

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